Page 16 of Stalking Ginevra

Instead of giving me a price for the use of her four twin cremators, she launched into a detailed spiel about the destruction of DNA during cremation. The heat obliterates mostgenetic material, but some traces might linger in the bone fragments.

She lectured us on the high-tech forensic methods that could recover these remnants, but it all amounted to one thing. Elania wants an exorbitant amount for the extra work to make sure there’s zero chance the cops will recover DNA from the ashes.

I offered to take the ashes to the yacht and pour them into the ocean, but she refused. The crematorium is her place of business. If she gets caught, she and Aria would be facing charges of obstruction of justice, conspiracy, tampering with evidence, and accessory to murder.

When I told her I wanted the men burned alive, she lost it, pointing out that burning live bodies would be premeditated murder, adding to the list of charges. She asked me if I wanted to replace Roman on Death Row and send her and Aria to the electric chair, then tripled her price.

On the plus side, she didn’t say no.

Home is chaos. Business is carnage. Roman is allowing Capello’s daughter to roam the house and grounds because she’s a feral creature who can’t be caged. If she’s not hurling herself off balconies, she’s smashing the heirlooms.

We were also the target of a female assassin. So, in between torturing betrayers, Cesare is doing unspeakable things to her in our basement. Leroi, who may or may not be the target of assassins, is also hiding out on our grounds with a stomach wound.

I recently clawed back our stolen meth lab from the Galliano brothers in New Jersey, but they’re demanding the return of its cook, Isabella Cortese. She’s Reaper’s sister, who they tortured for half a decade. I’ll be damned if she spends another hour in the company of either of those Galliano bastards.

Things are tense between us and New Jersey. Roman met with Tommy Galliano tonight at the Phoenix. I watched thedoor, making sure he didn’t bring an army. Cesare was supposed to keep an eye on the cameras, but there’s a suspicious gap in the recordings. And a female employee he was caught choking a few days ago and subsequently fired was found murdered in the alley.

I don’t need to watch the deleted footage to know he’s the culprit.

Roman will confront him tomorrow. Cesare was my responsibility while he was on Death Row. It’s time to pass the burden to big brother before chaos becomes carnage at home, too.

Now, I’m frustrated, needing to blow off steam, with twenty years of pent-up desire to offload. And my cock still thinks she’s the only woman in the world.

At least she’s no longer off-limits, which is why I’m parked behind the hedge bordering her house. She’s home alone, and her mother is out on another date with Bossanova. When I strike, no one will hear her scream.

Several minutes later, Ginevra finally settles. I put on my helmet, exit the car, and make the same route into her bedroom through the closet window.

I step out, finding moonlight spilling through the windows, casting a cold glow on Ginevra’s sleeping form. Her auburn hair fans out on the pillow, making her look like a Pre-Raphaelite painting of Ophelia.

The sight of her is heartbreaking. Beneath that beautiful facade is a backstabber.

Crossing the room, I stand over her, my fists clenching at my sides. Hatred and desire wars within my soul. How can I still want her after she left me for Samson Capello? The broken engagement was the first of many betrayals to befall our family, all orchestrated by a false friend who resented our legacy.

She knew what was happening and didn’t think to send a warning. She left my grandmother’s ring with a note that said next to nothing.

“Ginevra,” I hiss through the voice changer.

Her eyes flutter open. In the dim light, they’re a deep gray, bordering on black.

“Who’s there?” she whispers, sounding half asleep.

“Did you come?” I ask, my voice low and rough.

Her eyes dart back and forth, unable to meet mine. She shifts uncomfortably on the bed, her cheeks flushing.

“I… what?”

“It’s a simple question. Did you or did you not climax from sucking my cock?”

She swallows, her lips trembling. “What are you doing here? I thought we were even.”

“Then you place little value on your life,” I growl. “You can be a good girl and stop evading my question or discover exactly how I punish bad girls.”

She breathes hard, clutching the comforter to her chest like a shield. The sight of tears glistening in her eyes makes my cock twitch.

When she still doesn’t answer, I hold a knife to her throat.

“Yes,” she whispers, her breath quickening, her eyes glued to the blade. “I came.”

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