Page 179 of Stalking Ginevra

“So, now, you know,” I say. “If I could change the past, I would have spent the last five years living here with you in this treehouse.”

“If I could change the past, I wouldn’t have accepted your rejection,” he replies, his voice tight with regret. “I should have known something was wrong when you broke our engagement.”

“Don’t.” I place a hand on his chest and draw back to gaze into his eyes.

Pain etches into his paling features, his eyes darkening as if my trauma has seared into his soul. His gaze locks on mine, raw and unflinching, like he’s absorbing every ounce of my agony. The sight of him so affected by my story is strangely healing. Mom always acted too drunk to understand my pain, and Martina twisted everything I told her into some exciting kink. Finally, after all these years, I feel seen.

“My dad ordered me to make our break up convincing. If I told you the truth, then your family would know mine was allying with a potential enemy.”

His lips tighten.

“Everyone to blame for this is dead,” I say. “Let’s put the past behind us and make up for lost time.”

Eyes softening, he gazes down at me with so much love that my heart flutters. The warmth in his gaze melts away the last of my defenses. Maybe losing Benito’s friendship for so long was a blessing because this new version of him treats me like I’m the most alluring creature in existence.

“How can I help you feel better?” he asks, his voice lowering several octaves.

“Make me feel beautiful.” I wrap my fingers around the back of his neck and pull him down for a kiss.

EIGHTY-TWO

BENITO

Ginevra’s words linger in the air, haunting and raw, and her smaller frame trembles against mine. Everything she’s endured slices through my chest like a dagger, each confession digging deeper into the kernels of my heart.

Rage simmers in my gut, but I swallow down the surge. She doesn’t need my anger. She needs my protection, my acceptance, my strength. She needs a level of comfort that doesn’t ask for anything in return.

Her breaths come ragged and uneven, like she’s still trapped in those memories. I trail the pad of my thumb along her soft cheek, catching a tear before it falls.

Then she leans into my touch, desperate for my comfort.

“You’re the most exquisite creature in existence,” I murmur into her hair. “And the safest. No bastard will ever insult you as long as I live.”

She nods, but there’s a reluctance in her jerky movements as if what Samson Capello has done to her has cut too deeply to be erased with words. I weave my fingers into her hair, brushingsilky strands away from her face. She squeezes her eyes shut as though she’s fighting to hold herself together.

“There’s no need to be strong anymore. Not with me. Not here in our sanctuary. Let it go.”

Her eyes find mine, hesitant and red-rimmed. Doubt etches in every line of her expression, and I wonder if she’s afraid of my judgment. I hold her gaze, trying to communicate through our decades-long connection what I can’t say with words. Eventually, she lowers her lashes and releases a sigh.

“I’ve never felt so unwanted,” she murmurs. “So worthless.”

I lean in, brushing my lips against hers. “Those are the last two words I would ever use to describe you.”

“How would you describe me, then?”

No matter how much I desire Ginevra, now is not the time for passion. I need to tread lightly. Her heart is wounded, fragile, and the pain of what she’s endured is still raw.

“You’re the flame that chases away the shadows,” I say with another soft kiss on her lips. “My guiding light in a world of darkness. Samson tried to snuff you out, but a monster like him is no match for your brilliance.”

She rests her head on my shoulder, her fingers fisting my shirt like I’m the only anchor in a world that’s been spinning too fast.

“If that’s true, then why did you keep me imprisoned without clothes?” she asks.

Knots form in my gut, twisting painfully, making me grimace. I run a hand down her side, my fingers mapping the curve of her waist, the dip of her spine.

“I’m not too different from Samson Capello,” I say with a tired sigh.

She draws back to meet my eyes, her brow pulling into a frown. “What do you mean?”

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