Page 48 of Stalking Ginevra

Elania’s eyes narrow. “We’ve been in this business long enough to know promises don’t pay bills. We want half up front.”

My jaw tightens. “Fine,” I say through clenched teeth. “You’ll have it first thing in the morning.”

Elania exchanges a glance with Aria. They might dress differently, but they still wear the same sour expression. Elania leans forward, her lips tightening. “Make sure it’s on time. Neither of us is playing games.”

“It will be there.”

The call ends. I place the phone on my chair’s arm and exhale. Reaper shifts on the sofa but remains silent. He knows better not to comment on family squabbles.

“We’ve already run through the plans, but we should go over the details again,” he suggests.

“Let’s get it over with,” I mutter.

He picks up a computer tablet and makes a call. Onscreen, the boys at the fraternity house are tense. They’re team leaders, young men in their early twenties, sitting around a large table. I gaze at the future of the Montesano family.

They’ve proven themselves with the successful raid on the meth lab and the rescue of Reaper’s sister. But that was a small operation compared to a billion-dollar enterprise guarded by a professional security team.

“Tomorrow night, we’re taking back what’s ours,” I say. “My father’s casino has been in enemy hands for too long, and it’s time this city remembered its true owner.”

The room falls silent, their expressions hardening with determination.

“This is about respect,” I continue. “It’s about sending a message to every backstabbing motherfucker that the Montesano family is back. We go in hard and fast—no mercy, no hesitation. Reaper and I will coordinate from the penthouse. Follow orders without question.”

Reaper leans forward. “The bomb threats we’ve set up at the governor’s residence, mayor’s house, and across multiple police precincts around town are in place. Cell Phone blockers around the building will leave the casino exposed and without backup.”

“Each of you knows your role,” I add. “Keep your subordinates in line. Don’t let them lose focus, and don’t hesitate to remind them what’s at stake if they do.”

My phone buzzes. The driver is broadcasting the feed from the limo. Ginevra now sits in the back seat with her head in her hands. As her shoulders shake with sobs, my veins thrum with satisfaction. She’s breaking. Her submission is only a matter of time.

Reaper clears his throat, pulling me back. Onscreen, the team leaders sit up straight, their eyes sharp with anticipation, their bodies tense. Our boys are ready.

“Have an early night. I want you all refreshed tomorrow to wipe out the last trace of that Capello bastard. Dismissed.”

The screen goes dark, leaving me staring at my reflection. We’re so close to victory, I can almost smell the metallic tang of blood.

Another message pops up on the phone, indicating that dinner has arrived. I unlock the elevator and allow a staff member from the mansion to enter, bringing in the scent of roasted lamb and garlic.

Reaper crosses the room and settles at the dinner table, taking the seat opposite mine. We wait in silence as the server lays out the plates and pours the wine. When the elevator doors slide shut behind him, we continue.

“Has Roman taken ownership of the casino?” Reaper asks.

Satisfaction settles in my chest at the thought of Capello’s empire slipping from his daughter’s grasp. “Everything’s in place. The deed was signed this morning. By tomorrow night, the Capello Casino will be nothing more than a memory.”

Reaper nods, his features tense.

Brows furrowing, I tilt my head. “Problems?”

“Isabella still insists on helping with the new meth lab,” he replies with a sigh.

I stab the meat, bitterness coating my tongue at the thought of Reaper’s sister falling into Tommy Galliano’s clutches again. “You’d think she would’ve had enough of cooking.”

“She’s lost the will to teach,” he says, his voice heavy with resignation. “Christian has no interest in school either. Cooking is all they have now.”

“Did she ever open up about what happened while she was under Galliano’s control?”

Reaper shakes his head and grimaces. “Never spoke a word.”

My gut twists. I wonder if Mother was ever happy with that bastard. Or if he coerced her into the breast augmentation that ended her life. Cesare killed the surgeon before I could investigate. Frustration presses down on my lungs, turning my breath shallow. Why do women leave good men to consort with demons?

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