Page 189 of Stalking Ginevra

Carla tries to grab his arm, only for him to shove her aside. “Do you know each other?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” he snarls, his voice thick with bitterness.

My mind spins, trying to place this gray-haired scarecrow of a man, but the bruises make it hard to recognize his features.

I stare at him, struggling to fit the pieces together—the sharpness of one cheekbone, the regal line of the side of his jaw that isn’t misshapen. The only man I know in that age group who isn’t overweight is the one who nearly became my stepfather.

“Valentino Bossanova?” I whisper.

His glare deepens, and he flashes a mouthful of broken teeth. “I’d say it’s nice to see you again, but I’d be lying.”

“Dad?” Carla says, her brows knitting.

His good eye flickers back to me, narrowing with disdain. “Get her out.”

My throat tightens. What on earth is Valentino Bossanova doing in a place like this when he has that ostentatious penthouse overlooking the park? And how the hell didn’t I know he and Carla were father and daughter?

“Out,” he barks.

“Dad, wait—Ginevra’s in trouble. She’s in an abusive marriage and needs somewhere to hide?—”

“From Benito Montesano?” He spits the words like venom, and I recoil, my stomach twisting with dread. “Get in line. He’s the bastard who messed up my face.”

My throat thickens. I would ask how he knows Benito, but one of my conditions for marrying him was to get Valentino Bossanova out of Mom’s life. Then I remember Benito showing me footage of that brutal beat down. Hell, at one point, I even tried to get Bob Brisket to murder him.

The memory that they were the same man cuts into my heart like a knife, making me wince.

“How do you know each other?” Carla asks, trying to ease her father back into his armchair.

Ignoring her, Bossanova turns to me and sneers. “Montesano ordered me to court your mother.”

Shock slams into my solar plexus, knocking the air from my lungs. My knees buckle, and I stagger back, grabbing at the door frame to hold steady. “What? Why?”

“Because he wanted you to come running to him, begging for help,” he hisses.

My mind reels, piecing together fragments of the recent past. At the time, I didn’t understand why Bossanova would try tomarry the widow of the man who helped with his murderous life insurance scams.

Now, it makes perfect sense.

“He told you that?” My voice cracks, and my eyes fill with fresh tears.

I’ve been so blind. All these weeks, Benito’s been pulling strings, controlling so many aspects of my life. “Was he behind the loan sharks, too?”

“Those thugs were there to make your mother desperate enough to marry me,” he replies with a sigh.

I can’t breathe. The room fades, along with the edges of my reality, replaced by a cruel maze of deception and manipulation.

Did Benito help Nick Terranova take back the law firm? His quartet of legal goons remind me so much of Vitale and Lorenzo. Their association would explain how quickly Bob Brisket reached the penthouse when Julian turned feral.

Benito—not Brisket.

“We’re both victims of that manipulative bastard,” Bossanova says, his sharp voice cutting through my dizzying thoughts. “Look at what he did to my good looks when I was no longer of use. You were wise to leave before he did the same to you.”

Bossanova’s words hang in the air like a thundercloud, heavy and oppressive. I shake my head from side to side, trying to straighten my thoughts.

Even if he’s right, I’m not about to agree with a man who murders innocent women. Especially not one who’s older brother killed my birth mother.

Turning away from Bossanova, I head back toward the front door. Going to Martina is out of the question, but her parents have been family friends my entire life. I could stay in one of their rental properties until I pull together enough money to leave town, or even call Mom?—

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