Page 158 of Stalking Ginevra

“Casino Demartini,” I reply. “Emmanuel Demartini wants to meet in two days to discuss the threat.”

“You need backup?”

“It’s not that kind of meeting. He wants me to bring a date.”

“Sofia?” Roman asks, his voice tilting with curiosity.

I smirk. “No. My wife.”

Before he can berate me for sleeping with the enemy, I hang up. I didn’t announce my marriage, but Roman knows only one woman exists for me. Regardless of what she’s done, Ginevra has been mine since she stepped into our home. It’s just a matter of time before she’s too trapped and pregnant to consider leaving.

We bypass the chaos at the front of the casino, where evacuees are gathered under the flashing lights of emergency vehicles. The car stops at the back entrance, and I step out into the sharp tang of burnt metal and smoke. The blackened brickwork by the rear entrance makes me shudder. I can’t begin to calculate the structural damage.

Malfi and three guards emerge from around the corner. His eye is still swollen from when I beat the hell out of him for manhandling Ginevra, and I swear his nose didn’t bend so sharply to the left. The sight of that bastard grates under my skin, but I focus on what’s at stake.

“Report,” I snap.

“It was two minor bombs,” Malfi starts, falling into step at my side. “They went off in the back with no major casualties. But there’s something else.”

I follow him around the corner, where we keep the trash. The smell of burnt debris sears my nostrils with broken glass crunching underfoot. Malfi hobbles like a man who knows he’s about to get another beating but wants to delay the inevitable.

He gestures at the ground where a small safe lies on its side among the smoking debris.

“It contained a note.”

My eyes narrow. “Did you open it?”

Malfi twitches. “Sorry, sir. But it burned. I didn’t have time to?—”

“What did it say?” I clench my jaw, biting back a string of curses.

He swallows. “It was a warning from the bomber. He said the name Victor Bellavista is just an alias and we should leave the Bellavista family alone.”

A sharp breath escapes my lungs, amusement laced with anger. “Spoken like someone who wants to protect the Bellavista family.”

“Get the security footage,” I snarl. “I want eyes on every inch of this place before, during, and after the explosion.”

Malfi scrambles away to carry out the orders. I turn on my heel and head back toward the car. This fight with Bellavista is far from over. And I won’t stop until I’ve crushed every last person standing in my way.

SEVENTY-TWO

GINEVRA

I enter the Montesano mansion’s pool house. Its architecture mirrors the big white house, complete with its columns, and its entire front wall has floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the water.

When I used to come here with Benito, it had a nice space with an indoor barbecue. But now, it’s set up like an art studio. Huge canvases hang on the walls, on easels, and stand on the marble floors. Some of them are abstract paintings with splashes of vibrant color, the others depict a man with a god-like body. Sunlight filters through the patio windows, bathing my skin in a way that would be soothing if my pulse wasn’t thudding in my throat.

I glance at the far right corner toward a fully stocked kitchenette. It’s as if the artist who created these beautiful works might return at any minute. My gaze drifts to the back, where a door leads to a bedroom. When I explored earlier, the clothes in the closet were close to my size, except the lingerie was a cup too small.

It obviously belongs to this mystery artist. My mind conjures up that devastatingly beautiful brunette, but she’s far too curvaceous to fit in those garments. Whoever occupies this space seems tall and wiry, which I’m not.

Benito’s emerald kimono now feels too tight, too voluminous, too ridiculous for this pool house, but it’s all he’s permitted me to wear. It’s a constant reminder that I’m his possession. His doll to dress however he pleases.

Rubbing my arms, I try to erase the unease crawling under my skin. I thought Lorenzo and Vitale would send me to a safe house or even the penthouse overlooking the casino. I didn’t know they were taking me to the Montesano mansion until we were halfway up Alderney Hill.

My two protectors sit outside on the pool deck, their backs to the glass doors. They’re pretending to be relaxed, trying to look like they’re battle-hardened soldiers. But neither of them seem old enough to have graduated college.

Bob Brisket could be nearby. He works for the Montesano family, after all. If he’s watching me, if he knows where I am...

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