Page 45 of Stalking Ginevra

After what feels like an eternity, the receiver resounds with a click.

“Ginevra.”

After five years, I’m still reeling at this cold, distant version of a man whose love for me was all-consuming. But desperation has me pushing past the hurt.

“Benito, I…I need your help.”

He pauses, leaving a silence so heavy it’s almost suffocating. I can already picture him standing in the back office of the club, reviewing its accounts with his new woman.

"What kind of help?" His tone is void of warmth, stripped of any trace of the man I once adored. Now, he's nothing but a stranger.

“Someone’s stalking me. He’s dangerous. I tried going to the police, but they were useless. I don’t know where else to turn.”

When he doesn’t reply, I press on, hoping to break through Benito’s barrier.

“I really need your help. He’s threatening my mom. Please, Benito. I wouldn’t call if it wasn’t serious.”

The line goes quiet, and I hold my breath, waiting for his response. Just as I think he’s going to hang up, he asks, “Where are you?”

“At work.”

“I’ll send someone to pick you up.”

He hangs up before I can respond, leaving me staring at my phone. Relief hits so fast, I collapse into my laptop. Maybe ifwe’re face to face, I can finally explain that I was forced to break our engagement.

The moment the car pulls up outside a high-rise on the other side of town, I know something’s wrong. This isn’t the Phoenix. The driver stays silent, nodding toward the entrance.

I hesitate, waiting for instructions. When none come, I step out. The glass doors slide open, revealing a lobby of polished floors, towering ceilings, and abstract paintings.

The elevator ride is suffocating, tension thickening with each floor. Strange that Benito chose this place when the club is closer to my office. As the doors open to a sprawling penthouse, all the air vanishes from my lungs. The front wall is all glass, overlooking the casino Dad helped steal from Benito’s family.

Did he choose this place to remind me of that betrayal?

My gaze settles on Benito sitting in an armchair by the window, bathed in golden light. He looks otherworldly, untouchable, like a deity.

His dark hair is slicked back, accentuating his sharp cheekbones and strong jawline shadowed with stubble. A tailored navy suit clings to his broad shoulders and tapers down to his narrow waist, emphasizing his athletic build.

Even seated, he exudes a quiet menace I never noticed while we were together. This version of Benito radiates authority and a kind of ruthlessness that demands respect.

I step out of the elevator on shaky legs, waiting for him to acknowledge my presence. When we were together and even before then, his gaze always followed me across the room. That unwavering attention warmed my spirit, stirred my soul, but all I’m getting from him now is indifference.

He doesn’t look up from his papers, even as my heels click on the marble floor. I clear my throat, but he doesn’t even twitch.

My chest tightens. Should I interrupt him or should I wait? I slow down, not knowing how to act. It’s like I don’t know Benito at all.

“Thanks for agreeing to see me…”

He turns the page as though absorbed in his reading materials.

“Benito?”

He glances up, making my steps falter. His eyes are darker than I remember, maybe because of the glasses. They’re stormy and impatient, making me feel like an intruder.

My heart pounds at the intensity of his gaze. There’s no warmth, no recognition of the woman he once loved. All I see is a ruthless mafia prince staring down an enemy.

Forcing one foot forward then the other, I continue toward what could be my last hope. There’s no way in hell I’ll allow his coldness to stop me from getting help, but when I try to speak, the words tangle in my throat.

“Benito, I’m sorry?—”

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