Page 161 of Stalking Ginevra

She sobs, clinging to me like I’m the only thing tethering her to life.

Tension drains from my muscles as understanding trickles through my skull. She’s not talking about sex with my brother.

“Brisket won’t come near you,” I murmur, rubbing her back with gentle strokes. The heat of her body against mine is comforting, and her dependence on me fills my heart with a soft ache. “I’m here now. You’re safe.”

Her fingers press harder into my chest, her breaths coming out in shallow, uneven gasps. “You don’t understand. He’s a psychopath. He tore out a man’s heart and presented it to me as a gift. He’s capable of anything.”

The fear in her voice is real. I can feel it in the way her body tenses, the way she shakes with every word. She’s reliving that moment—seeing it, feeling it all over again.

“And he’s the worst kind of pervert,” she says with a shudder.

My hand stills on her back as I force down a dark chuckle. Ginevra acts like she hated the filthy things I made her do as Brisket. I remembered how she would beg. In fact, she responded to me with a fire I hadn’t seen in the time we’ve been together.

But I can’t let her spiral further. Not now. Not when she’s finally falling into place. Not when she’s needing me in a way she never has before.

I continue to stroke her back, press a kiss on her temple, and rock her from side to side. “That bastard won’t touch you again.”

“How can you be so sure?” she asks, pulling back just for her tear-filled eyes to search mine. “Do you know him?”

The question hangs in the air, making my heart spasm. My mind races through the possibilities. If I say yes, she’ll demand more answers. If I say no, she’ll cling to this paranoia. If I say he’s dead, she’ll take advantage of her freedom and leave me in the dust.

Exhaling, I settle on a middle ground. “A couple of men disappeared last week with a suitcase of cash. I’m sure one of them was Brisket.”

Her brows knit together. “Did you catch them?”

“Working on it.” I examine her features for signs of relief or hope, but find only fear. “But right now, I have to deal with the casino being under attack.”

Her frown deepens. “What happened today?”

“There’s a man named Victor Bellavista,” I snarl. “He’s been draining money from the casino for months with counterfeit chips, rigged machines, and that’s only half of what we’ve uncovered.”

She cocks her head to the side. “Is he related to Salvatore?”

My heart skips a beat. “How do you know that name?”

She blinks, seeming surprised by my reaction. “Salvatore wanted to work with me after Dad died, but my old boss gave the account to someone else. He and his family used to come over to the house for dinner all the time. He’s practically an uncle.”

I step back, my breath catching, my pulse racing at the implication. “You know the Bellavista family?”

She nods, oblivious that she could be the key to finding the elusive Victor. “Of course. Salvatore always invited Dad to parties at his house and to all the family vacations. You remember how much Dad liked photos? He has a whole shelf of albums full of memories.”

“Where?” I growl.

“In his study. Do you want to see them?”

My mind snaps back into focus. Pulling her into my arms, I kiss the top of her head. “Put on your shoes. We’re going to your old house.”

Ginevra has inroads with Salvatore Bellavista.

This changes everything.

SEVENTY-FOUR

GINEVRA

After an evening of identifying every Bellavista in Dad’s photo album, we spend the night in my old bedroom. In the morning, Benito takes me to buy a gown for dinner with Emmanuel Demartini.

We enter the Dolce Vista Boutique, which still drips with the kind of luxury that used to make me giddy.

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