Page 14 of Stalking Ginevra

“Did the man hurt you?” Martina asks.

Dipping my head, I mumble, “I gave him fellatio.”

She squints. “What was that?”

“I sucked him off, alright?” I pick up a fresh flute, washing down the taste of chocolate with Prosecco.

Her jaw drops, her green eyes sparkling with excitement. “No,” she says, her voice breathy with disbelief. Then she furrows her brow. “But aren’t you technically a virgin? I mean, it wasn’t consensual that first time with Samson?—”

“Hey,” I snap, trying not to bristle. “We agreed never to talk about that.”

Martina flinches at my sharp tone, her mouth opening like she’s about to tell me to relax, but her gaze flickers over my shoulder. She makes a double take, her eyes widening.

I turn around to see what’s captured her attention, and my stomach plummets.

A tall man in a suit tailored to his athletic frame strolls into the restaurant, stealing every ounce of my focus. He towers over the maître d’ with an air of power that commands the room as he's led to a private booth. His eyes are hidden behind glasses, yet my pulse quickens at the sight of his sharp jawline, broad shoulders, and muscular chest, making all thoughts of Samson and the gunman drift into the ether.

At his side is an equally attractive older man, but he barely registers. Because if you take away the chiseled features, designer stubble, and sharp clothes, the man walking through the restaurant is heartbreakingly familiar.

It’s Benito Montesano.

The man I betrayed to be with a psychopath like Samson.

My pulse quickens, my breath shallows, and my skin breaks out with prickly heat. The last memory I had of Benito was him walking into the lecture theater, dejected after I’d vacated our apartment, leaving the diamond engagement ring on the table with a note.

Benito wanted to know what he had done, how he could make things better, begged, pleaded, and implored me to take him back, promising he could change, but I didn’t have an answer.

Dad told me something terrible was brewing, and it was time to cut ties with the Montesano family. The only way to save us from the fallout would be aligning ourselves with the Capellos.

When I refused and asked if we could warn the Montesanos, his response was violent. It was the first time he’d ever hit me, and I’d been stunned into obedience. Before I knew it, he marched me over to Victoria Gardens, where I became engaged to Samson.

Within a week, I was begging him to give me to the less volatile Capello twin, Gregor.

“Ginny?” Martina snaps her fingers, breaking me out of my trance.

Moments after Benito takes his seat at the booth, the two men rise, their gazes fixed on an approaching woman. She’s a stunning brunette in a deep red dress that hugs her perfect figure. After shaking the companion’s hand, she cups one of Benito’s cheeks before kissing the other.

The Benito I know would have flinched, stiffened, or stepped away. This new and improved version of him places a hand on the small of her back and gestures for her to sit between them.

My throat thickens.

Did I expect him to pine for five years? Of course, he’s moved on. Both men stare at the woman like she’s their own personal succubi queen, and she laps up the attention.

“Ginny!” Martina snaps.

“Sorry.” I tear my gaze away from the femme fatale and face my friend.

“Isn’t that your ex?” she whispers.

Nodding, I gulp.

“What’s he doing with Professor Cortese?”

My eyes drift to the older man for a millisecond before snapping back to Benito.

“I don’t remember him looking so hot in law school.” She shakes off the remark. “Enough about Benito. Tell me about the man who spared your life at the gunfight. Are you going to see him again?”

Ignoring how the muscles of my pussy throb at the reminder, I shake my head. “I never saw his face.”

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