Page 1 of Stalking Ginevra

ONE

GINEVRA

Samson’s hideout has erupted into World War Three. The Montesano family is attacking, and we’re all going to die. I should be using this chance to escape my psycho fiancé, but he’s tossed me in a closet.

Instead, I’m kneeling, naked, knotted in shibari... numb with a sense of inevitable doom.

I wish this was the punchline to a bad joke.

Ropes constrict my torso, creating a diamond pattern from my breasts down to my crotch. He calls it Japanese bondage, but it might as well be a butcher’s meat trussing. The fibers tease my clit, triggering an uncontrollable surge of arousal.

I couldn’t escape without help even if the mansion was on fire.

Samson wanted to show his guards how he could make me come without using his hands. Bastard didn’t get a chance to finish before a small army stormed the compound with automatic weapons.

He was supposed to be dead weeks ago—shot down by the lone gunman who infiltrated his father’s sixtieth birthday party and massacred the entire Capello family.

When Dad told me the Capellos had been murdered, I was relieved—even happy. I never asked to be engaged to the world’s angriest and most abusive asshole, never asked to endure rejection, degradation, and insults.

Dad broke my engagement with my soulmate and childhood best friend to join forces with an up-and-coming mafia family. I was the collateral he sacrificed to become the Capello consigliere. While he reveled in power and prestige, I paid with my dignity.

The relief at losing my fiancé only lasted the hours it took for Samson to stumble through our door, still high from whatever shit he took at his dad’s party. After driving me home the night before, he’d crashed into a lamp post and spent the night unconscious at the wheel.

The man has the luck of the devil, but it’s about to run out.

Gunfire thunders from the grounds, accompanied by the panicked shouts of Samson’s men. Vibrations travel through the floorboards into my bare skin, making me tremble.

They’re coming closer.

It won’t be long before bullets rip through the cupboard door inches from my face, scattering wood chips and dust over my naked body. I squeeze my eyes shut, my heart pounding so desperately against its cage that I swear it’s about to burst.

Sweat trickles down the valley between my breasts and soaks into the rope. At the sound of bullets shattering glass, I whimper.

They’re here.

Terror grips my senses, and the acrid scent of gunpowder sears my nostrils. Fear coats my tongue, metallic and bitter, making me want to gag. This reminds be so much of the timeSamson forced me to deep throat his gun. I breathe hard, holding down a surge of panic as the voices reach a crescendo.

I’m going to die. Die before I even got a chance to apologize to Benito for breaking our engagement. Life with him was simple. I was the center of his attention—he catered to my every whim.

Benito placed me on a pedestal, treating me like a princess. It was impossible not to love him when his entire personality revolved around being at my side. When I enrolled in law school to follow in Dad’s footsteps, he did the same to keep me company.

Instead of living in a sorority house with my best friend, Martina, I stayed in an apartment by the campus with Benito. He insisted on separate bedrooms because he was saving us for our wedding night.

Our love was so pure that sometimes, I felt like one of his anime figurines—lined up on a shelf, pristine and untouched. He never let his hands wander beneath my clothes.

It’s funny how my final thoughts center on the man I wronged. Despite the chaos beyond the closet door, I would give my soul to be engaged to Benito again instead of Samson.

He isn’t just a monster, he’s obsessed with a little blonde girl he kept in his basement, and even placed a chip under her skin. I only found out about this an hour ago, when a red-headed boy brought her to Samson as collateral for a negotiation.

The girl explains why Samson only had sex with me once during the five years we were engaged. It was never about my supposedly loose pussy or off-putting red pubes. At twenty-eight, I was simply too old.

I need him to die. The world is a better place with one less child predator.

The closet door creaks open, flooding my vision with harsh light, making me squint. A large figure fills the doorway, cladin full body armor. Shivering, I tilt my head, peeking up at him through a gap in the ropes Samson wrapped around my eyes.

His face is hidden behind a black helmet, the tinted visor concealing his eyes. He raises a gloved hand, pointing a pistol directly at my face.

My stomach lurches. I can’t let him blow my brains across the closet wall. My soul will be forever tainted with the guilt of breaking Benito’s heart.

---