Page 53 of Stalking Ginevra

His eyes narrow. “Benito Montesano. The same man who seized control of the Capello Casino last night and made its entire leadership team disappear?ThatBenito Montesano?”

My breath catches. What the hell is he talking about? Benito took back the casino? He didn’t mention anything like that to me. My heart sinks into my stomach. Why the hell would he confide in the woman who stabbed him so deeply in the back that his heart shattered?

The leader flashes his teeth. They’re stained with nicotine, each one ground down so badly that they resemble rings of a tree.

He chuckles. “You’re telling me a bad-ass motherfucker like him had time during this casino heist to get down on one knee?”

My jaw clenches. “Call him. It’s the truth.”

His gaze darts to one of his companions, who no longer looks so arrogant. Then the grip on my arm loosens a little more.

Buoyed by a surge of confidence, I lift my chin and shoot him my most defiant glower. “What do you think a man capable of taking over a casino will do to you when he discovers you touched what belongs to him?”

Doubt crosses his eyes, which are no longer an impenetrable black. I finally see wide pupils and shades of dark brown. Benito’s name never used to carry so much weight. At least not with me. Now, I’ll wield it like a club.

“Let go of me,” I snap.

His fingers loosen a little more, making my chest rumble with satisfaction.

That’s right. I pull back my shoulders, my eyes hardening. Then I sweep a malevolent gaze across the courtyard and revel in the way the men shrink.

“Unless you’re starting trouble with the Montesanos, I suggest you all fuck off,” I say, making my voice venomous and low.

The leader finally releases his grip on my arm and his men exchange uneasy glances. Their confidence seems to waver, but they still hang around waiting for his command. No one seems to know how to act.

If I wasn’t obscuring the truth, I would snatch a phone and call Benito. But I walked out on the man without even answering. His proposal of marriage wasn’t a declaration of war but a promise of retribution.

Now I know why he brought me to that penthouse. It wasn’t just to make a point about the casino Dad helped Frederic Capello to steal. Benito was about to take it back. Until this moment, I didn’t know he was such a major player in this world.

“Leave,” I say.

As the men back toward their vehicle, I know our troubles aren’t over. In minutes, he’ll contact his boss, who will reach out to someone in the Montesano family. They’ll ask Benito if we’re engaged again, and he’ll say no.

I need to make sure Mom won’t be there when they return.

TWENTY-TWO

BENITO

I pound on Roman’s bedroom door, working through my frustration on the wood.

He’s late.

Again.

I didn’t expect him to join us for the casino raid, although I would have appreciated his help with handling Elania. However, I sure as hell thought he’d at least grace us with his presence after we’d done all the work.

The door creaks open. Roman steps out, fresh from a night of fucking. Bloodshot eyes, sluggish movements, and a crooked grin that speaks of zero regrets.

I keep my expression neutral, holding back a surge of envy, not wanting to begrudge him some action. Five years without a woman must be brutal. But nothing compared to my lifetime of virginity.

But that doesn’t stop me from raising concerns about Roman’s choice of bedmate. He’s getting attached to Capello’s daughter, when he should be plotting more efficient ways to make her sign over the rest of Dad’s assets.

After he brushes me off, we walk in silence through the hallways and into the waiting car. Once we’re far from prying ears, I drop the news of Leo Salvatore’s betrayal. If that asshole wanted to warn his relative to avoid the casino, he could’ve done it without exposing our plans.

Less than half an hour later, we reach the crematorium. We’ve been burning betrayers through the night, thickening the air with the scent of charred wood and something darker. I expect it’s the stench of souls being dispatched to hell.

We enter the cremation room, which is crammed full of our men, who surround a quartet of assholes I saved for Roman.

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