Page 149 of Stalking Ginevra

I nod to the man guarding the exit to get the door. He swings it open, and Leonard Napoli stumbles into the conference room with a grunt. He’s a beaten, bloodied man whose toupée hangs at the crown of his head like a lid.

Napoli’s face is a mess of bruises and cuts, and he sways on his feet, panting and punch drunk. I don’t spare him a second glance, not when Teresa’s paling features are so satisfying.

“He’ll tell you himself,” I say, my eyes never leaving hers. “Go ahead.”

“Mrs. Carlini and I have been splitting the difference on the orders,” Napoli stammers, his voice thick with pain. “Half the goods delivered, full payment collected. I... I couldn’t refuse. She and her son were?—”

“Enough.” I raise a hand. “The circumstances are irrelevant. What I want to know is how you plan to reimburse the casino.”

The CEO winces, clutching his chest as if one lousy interrogation is enough to give him a heart attack. “Do you take installments, Mr. Montesano?”

“No.”

He splutters. “I don’t have that kind of cash. All my assets are tied up?—“

“Then I’ll take your assets.” I snap my fingers.

Vitale pushes forward a contract Nick Terranova drew to transfer ownership of Napoli Food and Drink to the casino. “Sign this, and we’ll consider your debt cleared.”

He stares at the page, his lips moving as he subvocalizes the terms. The moment realization sinks through his bald head, he rears back, his eyes wide. “But my company is worth over ten million?—“

I pull the trigger, the shot ringing out and making everybody flinch. Blood splatters across the table, and his scream cuts the air like a blade. Napoli grabs his hand, now a mangled mess, and staggers back toward the wall. The trio of fraudsters scatter across the room like burning rats.

My gaze fixes on Napoli, who stares back, his eyes bulging with shock. Agony twists his sallow features, his breath coming in ragged bursts.

Beneath the pandemonium, the printer whirrs, churning out a fresh contract. Vitale rises off his seat, places it on a clipboard, and presses a pen into Napoli’s uninjured hand.

“Sign it,” I repeat.

With shaking fingers, he grips the pen and scrawls his name. When he’s finished, Vitale takes the clipboard with the attached contract and nods.

I flick my head again, ordering the man at the door to drag the whimpering CEO out of the room, most likely leaving a trail of blood across my marble floor. I don’t watch them go. My focus is on Teresa and her accomplices.

Her face contorts with anguish. The expression is identical to the horror on Ginevra’s pretty features when I tore through Julian’s entrails. If all women are the same, why am I so fixated on Ginevra?

Despite the corporate chaos, part of me is still in the honeymoon suite, watching my wife crumble. The memory of her begging for my touch, then pleading for me to stay lingers like it’s tattooed on my soul. I walked away because I needed control, but how much control do I have when I see Ginevra in the face of every woman?

“Mr. Montesano,” Teresa cries. “Please, don’t shoot me or my son.”

The little fiancée squawks at her mother-in-law’s willingness to make her the sacrifice. Suppressing a smile, I focus on my head of procurement. She’s trembling, her face paling, her breath shallow. Good. She’s starting to understand I won’t swallow her bullshit.

“You still owe me,” I say.

“Please, Mr. Montesano...” Leo tries to speak up, but I shut him down with a glower.

“Take her,” I say to the man at the door.

He grabs Teresa by the arms, hauling her to the exit. One of my forensic accountants will take stock of her net assets and see what they can extract. I have no doubt she’s already spent the bulk of the money she’s embezzled, but no one cheats a Montesano and lives to encourage others to do the same.

She screams, pleading for mercy. Her cries bounce off the walls, but she’s no Ginevra. Teresa’s pain only hardens my resolve. As she disappears through the door, I gesture for Leo and Sofia to take their seats.

Trembling like a pair of junkies, they return to the table and sit. Neither of them dares to speak. I’m still holding the gun.

I lock eyes with Leo and snarl, “My accountants will calculate your share of the debt. You have until tonight to get my money, or you’ll follow your mother.”

He nods, his throat bobbing with a gulp, even though he doesn’t stand a chance of gathering the funds. When he fails, Bianca will infiltrate the Bellavista household and sniff out Victor or lose her fiancé.

I stand, smooth down my jacket, and round the table, leaving the pair in the hands of my men. As I step into the marble hallway, my mind shifts to the next task.