Page 120 of Stalking Ginevra

My throat tightens at the remembered touch of the brute’s hands, my lungs struggling under his crushing weight. I’m about to tear off the blindfold when my mind dredges up Benito’s face.

Saved by my jailor husband. I should be furious that I’m still under his thumb, but the thought of him makes my muscles melt into the mattress. Maybe it’s because I’ve always associated him with something pleasant—the warm, chewed-up blanket that’s always there to offer comfort.

Sleep finally comes, pulling me under, but it’s not a peaceful escape. In my dream, I’ve found my way to Brisket’s lair, giving him a slow, sensual lap dance. The music is sultry, my hips swaying to the rhythm. His helmet looms in front of me, hiding his face, but his hands linger on my thighs.

Arching my back, I press my body closer to his, feeling his grip tighten. There’s something intoxicating about his touch—about the way he controls me, even in my dreams.

His breath rasps beneath the helmet, harsh and ragged. The sound of his excitement sends a shiver of anticipation down myspine. Just as he pulls me onto his erection, a knock on the door jerks me awake.

Heart racing, I rip off the blindfold and sit up. By now, it’s gone dark, and the view outside my window is the night skyline. The dream still clings to my senses, wrapping around my mind like a collar.

“Come in,” I call, my breath coming out in shallow gasps.

The door opens, and Carla walks in, this time wheeling a tray stacked with beautiful boxes. “Another gift from the boss.”

I shake off the last vestiges of sleep. Benito already took my clothes, confiscated my phone, and won’t let me communicate with the outside world. He doesn’t get to smooth over keeping me prisoner with gifts.

“Take it away,” I rasp and wave my hand toward the door.

Carla’s smile falters, her eyes flickering with concern. “You okay?”

I shake my head, hating myself for snapping at a friend. “All I want is the internet.”

She shifts on her feet, her gaze dropping to the floor. That silence screams everything I need to know.

“Did my husband order you to keep me cut off?” I ask.

Carla mutters an apology, making me grind my teeth. It’s not her fault. I shouldn’t take out my anger on her. She sets the boxes down on the dresser and slopes to the door. “I’ll leave a message with Mr. Montesano.”

The moment she’s gone, I launch myself off the bed, grab the boxes, and dump them in the hallway. I close the door, return to the bed, and slide on the blindfold.

Just as my mind transports me back to sexy time with Bob Brisket, the door creaks open again.

A male voice calls my name, sending my heart leaping to the back of my throat. I yank off the blindfold and sit up.

Benito stands at the foot of the bed, holding the discarded boxes. He stares at me through the dark with cold eyes. “Do you want these clothes or not?”

FIFTY-FIVE

BENITO

Ginevra lies on the four-poster bed, her kimono parting to expose legs I want to wrap around my waist. Half-asleep, she grumbles about the lack of internet, telephone connection, and underwear.

The irritation would be cute if she wasn’t such a backstabber, but there’s no denial that she looks adorable. Her gaping neckline reveals an expanse of creamy skin I ache to lap up like a starving tomcat, but I keep my expression detached.

After yesterday’s slip-up, there’s no need for me to add to her suspicions that she makes me weak.

When her complaints slow, I cut in. “Put on the clothes.”

She blinks, crinkling her pert little nose, her gray eyes flickering with suspicion. “Why?”

“Can’t I take out my wife for the evening?”

Her jaw drops, cutting off her complaints. Then she scrambles out of bed in a flurry of green silks, rifling through the boxes scattered on the mattress.

Maria from the Dolce Vita boutique packed all Ginevra could need for the night. She’s taken care of everything from makeupto her gown to accessories. I lean against the wall, enjoying the sight of Ginevra gathering the items into the larger box before disappearing into the bathroom to get ready.

The door clicks shut behind her, and my phone rings. Since it’s Gil’s name flashing on the screen, I don’t allow the call to go to voicemail. My brothers are both missing, and he and Reaper are leading separate search parties.

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