Stalking Ginevra (Morally Black Book 4)

I came here to kill her. Instead, I came down her throat.

Stepping back from the closet door, I stuff my cock back into my pants and turn to face the rest of the room. Everyone is dead, from the red-haired boy with a bullet through his head to the guards lying face-down on the floor.

Ginevra was… I shake my head.

Her death was supposed to end my obsession, but when I saw her displayed so prettily, begging me for her life, it was hard to do anything else but spare it.

After five years apart, I’m still the simp who caters to her every whim. Case in point. I’m now walking around the room, looking for her clothes so she won’t have to leave here naked once she’s cut herself free.

My heart pounds so hard that my fingers tremble as I step over Samson Capello’s carcass to reach a chair draped with her purse, her size seven shoes, and a stack of feminine garments. That was my first blow job, and I’m already yearning for a second.

After lifting my visor, I pick up her lace panties, bring them to my nose, and inhale the heavenly scent of her pussy. My cock stirs, making me light-headed. The greedy bastard urges me to carry Ginevra away, confine her in my treehouse, and never let her see the light of day.

I shake off that thought. Our family is in turmoil, and I’m the only brother capable of taking control. Roman just got released from death row, and Cesare is still interrogating the assassin who came to murder us in our beds. We need to retrieve the assets Capello stole from Dad, handle the threat of the Galliano brothers, and deal with potential unrest within our ranks.

Then there’s the scholarships, the fraternity house, the bastards we’re tracking at the casino, and negotiating the cremators with the Salentino sisters…

There’s no time to reignite my obsession.

I slip the panties in my pocket for later perusal, gather Ginevra’s clothes in my arms, circle back to the closet, and lay them down by the door.

A soft groan has me whirling around to the source of the sound. Samson Capello spasms within a pool of blood, looking like he’s in the final throes of death.

He’s still alive. How the hell could I have missed that?

Because Ginevra Di Marco has always been a distraction. In a matter of days, she’s now become available, having lost her father and fiancé. And I won’t be able to clear my mind of her until she’s finally dead.

Heart pounding, I reach into my holster for my handgun. By now, she’ll have removed the ropes from around her head. I’ll shoot her between those beautiful gray eyes and end her hold on my psyche.

Footsteps approach from the direction of the stairs, accompanied by Cesare’s voice. Hackles rising, I turn around to find him walking into the room with a tiny blonde.

“What are you doing out of the triage truck?” I ask.

My brother pauses in the doorway, his eyes narrowing. “Why are you still here?”

“I’m asking the questions,” I say.

“We’re here to finish Samson.”

My eyes narrow. I glance from my youngest sibling to his even younger companion, recognizing her as Seraphine, the woman whose abduction triggered this entire battle.

Our cousin Leroi called hours ago to tell us he’d located Samson, hiding right under our noses in a compound halfway down Alderney Hill. After Leroi killed Samson’s family, his right-hand man traded an innocent girl to spare him from Samson’s assassins. Based on the bullet lodged in his skull, I’d say his plan backfired.

Leroi must be in love. Why else would he waste such a good hacker?

Cesare tosses a doctor bag on the floor, narrowly missing Samson’s head, and crouches in the dying bastard’s pool of blood. Seraphine kneels beside him, trying to press her fingers into the gunshot wound on Samson’s stomach.

Grabbing her wrist, my brother lectures her on the importance of not contaminating a victim’s wound. I tune him out, retreat to the corner of the room, and wait for Cesare to complete his triage.

I trust my brother to give Samson a slow death. He’s the family torturer, and a genius at reviving victims over and over to prolong their agony. As a boy, he was so fixated with eviscerating that Mother and Dr. Brunelli thought he would become a serial killer. To put his urges to better use, they encouraged him to be a surgeon.

If Cesare discovers Ginevra in the closet, he’ll dissect her as punishment for leaving me for Samson—never mind that she’s the daughter of the man who helped Capello steal our family’s assets from Dad.

An hour after sitting through the world’s most gruesome bullet removal surgery, Cesare drags Samson out of the room and down the stairs. Seraphine, whose hands and face are covered in blood, gives him a standing ovation, making me wonder if Leroi knows he’s fallen in love with a psychopath.

Shaking off that thought, I turn my attention to the closet. While my brother and his unhinged little friend were toying with Samson’s insides, Ginevra slipped her clothes through a chink in the door, as they’ve disappeared.

I slide the gun back into the holster. Killing Ginevra tonight would only give me a moment’s satisfaction. Keeping her alive and giving back all the pain she’s inflicted on me will be a sweet, drawn-out pleasure.

Besides, Roman has Capello’s daughter, Cesare has the assassin he’s slowly torturing, and Leroi has Seraphine. Why shouldn’t I have something too?

I hurry down the stairs, finding the mansion empty, save for Capello’s deceased guards. Outside, the first streams of sunlight seep through the evergreens, and I inhale a burst of juniper-scented air.

After ordering our men to clear the courtyard, I remove my bullet proof jacket and helmet, don a baseball cap and face mask, and drive a car to the front steps.

At some point, Ginevra will pluck up the courage to call an Uber, and I intend to be the man behind the wheel. Sitting in the driver’s seat, I wait for her to emerge.

Hours pass. Eventually, Ginevra pokes her head through the mansion’s double doors, the faint light coloring her auburn hair an iridescent shade of copper. The modest, green shift she wears hides her curves, making her look like the sweet girl who held my heart for twenty years.

She’s so shaken by tonight’s carnage and cock sucking that she fails to check her app.

Winding down the window, I lean across the back seat, making sure to stay concealed beneath the visor of my cap. Her face is pale and drawn, her eyes puffy and red, and it takes every effort not to pull her into a hug.

In a thick, nondescript accent, I ask, “Uber for Di Marco?”

“Yes.” She opens the back door and sits inside.

My cock hardens at the thought of the game that’s just begun. As I pull away from Capello’s ravaged hideout, I glance at her through the rearview mirror. She sits clutching her purse with white-knuckled fingers.

“Nice evening, Ma’am?” I ask.

When her features tighten, I smirk beneath my mask. She might act affronted but I know she brought herself to climax. All from sucking my cock.

Samson must have trained her extensively during the five years she was his fiancée, because we never did more than kiss. She was my pure little goddess, my future wife. I didn’t want to besmirch her honor before marriage.

If I’d known she would leave me for a bastard like Capello, I would have fucked her at every opportunity. Maybe then, I would have moved onto another woman, and been more like Cesare, who has a roster of beautiful employees with benefits.

I navigate the hair-pin turns of Alderney Hill, reveling in her discomfort. When she wipes away a tear, I wonder if it’s for her soon-to-be dead fiancé or for her recent degradation.

“Where to, Ma’am?” I ask.

“Don’t you have my address in your system?” she asks back, her voice tight with impatience.

“32, Willow Lane, Queen’s Gardens?”

“Yes,” she hisses.

I suppress a chuckle. “Rough night?”

She doesn’t answer.

“Only you look a little disheveled.”

“Would you mind driving faster?” she asks, her pretty lips tightening with distaste.

“Of course, Ma’am,” I answer, taking my foot off the gas.

Ginevra inserts wireless earbuds into her ears and stares out through the window, determined to avoid my probing questions. With a smile, I leave Alderney Hill and turn the vehicle onto a longer route.

Silence stretches across the back seat of the car, filled only by the soft purr of the engine. When she brings her trembling fingers to her mouth, I can’t help but think she’s still tasting my cum.

It’s light by the time I deposit her outside the front doors of her family home, a sprawling McMansion set within a quarter acre of lawns and manicured hedges.noveldrama

Opening the door, she steps out without so much as a thank you. Her movements are hurried, frantic. I smirk, watching her stumble up the steps to her family home.

She fumbles with her keys and drops them on the welcome mat. When she bends to pick them up, her dress rides up just enough for me to catch a glimpse of her gorgeous thighs. I lean across the driver’s seat and groan. Finally, she unlocks the door, throws a glance over her shoulder, and she slips inside before closing it shut.

“See you sooner than you think, little Ginny.”

I drive around the block and park just outside the tall hedges bordering the Di Marco property. After slipping on my helmet and bulletproof jacket, I stay low, weaving between the trees and shrubs of their garden. I reach the house’s rear, clock the narrow ledges and windowsills just wide enough to grip. After a quick glance around to make sure no one’s watching, I grab hold of a ledge and haul myself up toward the upper floors.

Using a knife, I wedge open her dressing room window and slip inside. The morning sun streams through the gaps in the door leading to her bedroom. Crossing the narrow space, I peek in to find Ginevra standing with her back to me, undressing.

My breath catches as she slips out of her shift, revealing delicate skin marred with rope marks. The diagonal patterns catch the light, and I’m entranced at how they shift and stretch as she moves to her nightstand and extracts an eye mask. After slipping under the covers, she slides the silk blindfold over her head and sobs.

“Are you crying for me, little Ginny?” I whisper. “Or for him?”

At the soft sounds of her misery, my cock hardens. I press the heel of my hand into my groin, waiting for my little obsession to cry herself to sleep. Once her breathing evens, I slip out of my hiding place and creep across the room.

I stop at her bedside, my gaze fixed on her serene face. Beneath that innocent, peaceful exterior is a woman trained to satisfy Samson’s depravity. My fingers itch to touch her, to claim her, but I hold back.

With the entirety of my sexual experience limited to that single blow job and jerking off in her name, what could I possibly offer a woman like Ginevra Di Marco?

Revenge.

I will terrorize her from the shadows, unravel her perfect life, and make her regret the day she left. She’ll pay for the wound she inflicted on my soul—that’s a pleasure I intend to draw out until she breaks.

And when she shatters, I will pick up her pretty little pieces and make them mine.

“Enjoy the slumber while you can,” I murmur. “The game has only just begun.”