Stalking Ginevra (Morally Black Book 4)

Hours later, I’m barricaded in the guest room, my skin raw from being scrubbed clean, yet I still can’t erase his touch. I can’t shake the feeling of his dominating presence. I’ve locked every door and window, but I don’t think that will deter my stalker. Nothing will.

Morning sunlight streams in through my closed eyelids, reminding me that I’ve stayed awake the entire night. Every creak, real or imagined, made me think he’d returned for another round.

After his footsteps retreated, I lay on my bed with cum in my eyes, not knowing if he was still watching. I replayed every moment over and over, wondering where the hell I went wrong.

What happened that night was supposed to be a one-off, but it looks like he wants a pound of flesh in exchange for sparing my life.

I should have called the police right away, but I froze. The man is tied to the Montesano family, who may or may not be connected to Dad’s murder. What if he’s the lone gunman who massacred the Capellos? It would make sense, since Dad was murdered in his own bed. Calling the cops on him will only get me killed.

Not to mention Mom.

She spent the night at Bossanova’s apartment, and for once, I’m relieved she’s found a boyfriend. That murderous old bastard won’t make a move on Mom until after he’s married her and placed a policy on her life. At least she’s safe with him… for now.

In the meantime, I need to get rid of this sexual terrorist before he escalates.

When the alarm on my phone buzzes, I crack open an eye and force myself out of bed. The stalker is only one of my problems. I need to investigate what Martina heard about Dad. Dad always talked as if he owned the firm outright after Nick Terranova lost his license.

Movement downstairs makes my heart jump into my throat. I slide out of bed and rush to the door, pressing my ear to its surface. At the sound of a high-pitched, feminine giggle, every knot of tension in my belly melts, and I step out into the hallway.

Mom is staggering up the stairs in a red dress with its straps falling down her arms, exposing more than the appropriate amount of cleavage. Bossanova follows behind her with his hands on her hips, wearing a tuxedo and an overly bright smile.

“Have you been drinking again?” I hiss.

She stares up at me through bleary eyes, blinking as though clearing spots from her vision. Her gray eyes are bloodshot, with pupils so wide they may as well be bottomless pits.

“Ginny,” she slurs. “We’re celebrating.”

“Celebrating what?” My gaze bounces to Bossanova.

The leathery-skinned asshole smiles so widely I can see his gold molars. “Show her, baby.”

Mom raises her hand, revealing the largest, most ostentatious diamond engagement ring. It’s twice the size of the stone Benito gave me, which was ten carats.

When it slips off her finger and bounces on the faux-marble stair, my eyes narrow.

“Careful, babe.” Bossanova releases her hips to pick up the fallen ring. He slips it back on her fingers and plants a kiss on her lips. “We’ll get it resized tomorrow.”

“Which dead wife did it belong to?” I snap.

He flinches, his crocodile grin morphing into a grimace. “That’s a dangerous assumption to make, Ginny.”

“Ginevra.”

As quickly as the grimace appeared, it melts back into a fake smile that freezes halfway to his eyes. “Come on, baby. Let’s get you to bed.”

Mom staggers up the stairs, wobbling from side to side, with him holding her steady. All the while, his hateful eyes try to penetrate my defenses.

“Thanks for bringing Mom home, Mr. Bossanova. I’ll take care of her from now,” I say, facing down the back-stabbing coward, daring him to object.

“But the fun has only just begun,” he croons.

“My mother is too drunk to consent to sex,” I grind out through clenched teeth.

“Ginny!” Mom says, sounding scandalized. She turns to her future murderer, her cheeks flushing. “I’m sorry, Valentino, darling. We taught her better than to be so crass.”

Bossanova flashes his teeth again. “It’s alright, baby. She’s protective of her mama. I’ll see myself out.”

Mom murmurs something about wanting him to stay, but the glare I shoot is fierce enough to make Bossanova plant another kiss on her cheek and retreat downstairs.

I round the bannister, meeting Mom halfway, and help her to the landing. She blows sloppy kisses at Bossanova before he opens the front door with a jaunty salute and exits.

The moment the door clicks shut, she collapses on the top and sighs. “I thought he’d never leave.”

Brow pinching, I sit beside her and ask, “Mom?”

She shakes her head from side to side, her curls bouncing. Mom’s hair is almost the same shade of auburn as mine, although the henna rinse she uses to cover the gray makes it darker. She rubs her temples as if chasing away the last traces of alcohol.

“Don’t interfere with Valentino, darling, he’s a dangerous man,” she says.

I splutter. “Of course, he’s dangerous. Do you know what happened to all his wives?”

She reaches into her purse, extracts a silver cigarette holder, and flips it open. Inside are a lighter and three tightly rolled joints. My jaw drops. Since when did she smoke?

“Femicide,” she finally answers.

“If you know Bossanova is a murderer, what are you doing with him?”

“Your father left us with enough debt to bankrupt a small country.” She places one between her lips, lighting the end before taking a deep drag that makes the tip smolder. She offers me another, but I shake my head.

“We’re screwed if we don’t come up with ten million dollars.” She blows out a long stream of smoke. “A loan shark tracked me down to the hotel with contracts your father signed. He spent money like a fire hydrant to keep up the appearance of a high-powered lawyer.”

“Did you sign anything?”

“Loan sharks don’t give a damn. I’m his widow, therefore I inherited his debt.”

My throat thickens, and the knots in my stomach return, twisting so tightly that I have to stifle a groan. Having a stalker is a picnic compared to these sharks.

“Can we sell the house?” I ask.

“Have you ever noticed that no-one moves into this part of Victoria Gardens?” She doesn’t wait for me to reply. “Over the past few years, the land has become riddled with subsidence. Real estate prices here have crashed and no one is stupid enough to buy a money pit.”

I gulp. “So, what are you doing with Bossanova?”

She meets my gaze, looking so sober that I pull away, wondering what the hell happened to my alcoholic mom. “Your father told me how Valentino operates. The life insurance policy he places on his wives are joint, meaning if one spouse dies, the other inherits a fortune. I plan on killing him before he makes his move.”

“Mom—”

“Don’t talk me out of it.” She places her fingers on my lips. “Valentino knows about my money problems, and he’s prepared to pay off the sharks. We’ll move into his penthouse overlooking the park, then he’ll die of an unfortunate overdose.”

“This is crazy.”

“But necessary.”

“Do you even have a drinking problem?”

“Not really.” She raises a shoulder.

“What does that mean?”

Mom takes a long drag of her joint, holds the smoke in her lungs for several seconds before blowing it out in a long stream. “In this world, it’s deadly for a woman to show her weaknesses because they’ll be exploited. It’s better to fabricate one you can control. Something that keeps people at a distance.”

“So all those AA meetings, detox resorts, and sobriety retreats?”

“Were an excuse to get away from your father.”

My heart plummets to my stomach and sinks in the acidic waters of betrayal. Tiny chunks break off, eroding piece by agonizing piece. “But I spent years worrying about you.”

She turns to me, her eyes softening. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but you’re the world’s worst secret-keeper. When you were little, you used to tell Benito Montesano everything, and Benito would tell his father.“

“What are you saying?”

The corner of her lips lifts into a crooked smile. “You’re too pure-hearted for this world. Just like your mother.”

My heart skips several beats. Mom once said something about not being my biological mother when she was drunk, but she claimed not to remember about it when she was sober. When I asked Dad, he told me to forget about it, mumbling something about alcoholic dissociation. I let it slide, since our combination of hair and eye color is so unique, we have to be related.

“So, it’s true?”

She brushes a lock of hair off my face. “Your father ordered me never to reveal the truth. My cousin, Jennifer, was the woman who carried you, not me.”

My lips move, but I can’t form words. Mom gazes into my eyes, with a look of guilt and compassion that makes my insides crumble.noveldrama

“Then how did I end up with you?” I whisper.

“She was young, impressionable and in love with your father, who wouldn’t leave his current wife. When she got pregnant, he ghosted her, and she moved into our family home. Something changed the moment she gave birth. She couldn’t connect with you, and ended up leaving you in our care.”

Mom takes another drag, her expression darkening. “She needed the kind of love she couldn’t get from a baby. Another older man swept her off her feet and married her in a whirlwind romance.”

I clutch my stomach, trying to hold back the sensation of sinking dread. “What happened to Jennifer?”

“She married Gianni.” Mom’s gaze bores into mine. “Gianni Bossanova.”

Shock hits me in the gut, making me suck in a sharp breath through my teeth. My insides twist into icy knots, as if the coldness of realization is freezing me from the inside out. Gianni Bossanova is the brother on death row, who was jailed for pushing his wife down the stairs on camera.

“She was murdered,” I whisper.

Mom nods.

“And you’re marrying his brother for revenge?” My voice rises several octaves.

“Do you know what these loan sharks will do if I don’t pay your father’s debt?” Mom asks.

“Kill us?”

“They might kill me, maybe harvest my organs. A beautiful girl like you will stay alive and earn that money. I don’t want you to fall into the hands of traffickers.”

A heavy silence falls between us, thick with the gravity of her words. My heart races, and I force myself to think. As much as I want to scream at her, to pull her out of this twisted scheme, I know she’s right. The world we live in doesn’t allow or forgive mistakes. This can’t be the only way to keep us both alive. There has to be another way.

Mom wraps an arm around my shoulder. “Don’t interfere with Valentino. He’s our only route out of this mess.”

“What about the law firm?”

She chuckles, the sound bitter. “Your grandfather owned ten percent of the equity until he sold it back to the Terranova family to cover your father’s gambling debts. Joseph Di Marco died worse than penniless, leaving us with nothing but a trail of liabilities and at the mercy of loan sharks.”

“So, Nick Terranova was telling the truth about dad stealing his firm,” I mutter.

Mom’s grip on my shoulder tightens. “If he’s returned, then you should update your resumé. What your father did to that man was unforgivable. I don’t want you bearing the brunt of his vengeance.”