Page 60 of Stalking Ginevra

She pauses, and I can almost hear the smirk in the quickening of her breath. “Mr. Terranova is in a meeting and can’t be disturbed.”

The line goes dead.

Fuck that bitch. I shove the phone back into my bag, turn back to the doorbell and press it again. The buzz is louder, more urgent, but the response is the same—nothing.

The unease that’s been simmering now starts to boil. I pull out my phone again, searching online for a contact number. The internet connection in this abandoned district is slower than shit, and my stomach tightens with stress.

Just as the number pops up on screen, a shadow shifts at the edge of my vision. I barely have time to react before an arm locks around my waist, yanking me off balance.

My phone slips from my grasp, hitting the pavement with a sharp crack as I’m pulled through the door that slams shut behind us.

“Hey!” I twist in my attacker’s grip, but his hold is like iron.

He pins me against rough brick, grinding his larger body into mine. “Miss me, little Ginny?”

His voice is low, calm, sending a shiver down my spine. Panic claws at my insides, but I force it down. I turn my head and dart my eyes around the dim room. We’re in some kind of strip club, with a darkened bar and a fire exit beside the stage.

“Let go of me,” I say from between clenched teeth.

The moment he steps back, I bolt toward the fire door, powered by a surge of adrenaline. I make half a dozen steps on the sticky floor before he wraps an arm around my waist again and yanks me back with brutal force.

The scream tears from my throat before I can stop it, raw and desperate, echoing off the walls and swallowed by the darkness.

“I have an appointment,” I say, my voice rising with panic. “With Bob Brisket.”

His dark chuckle rumbles at my back. “That’s me, and you’re mine for the rest of the day.”

My stomach plummets. “What legal advice could I possibly give a deranged stalker?”

He laughs, the sound low and menacing. Before I can wriggle free, his palm cracks down on my ass, the sting of it making me freeze. The shock of pain reverberates through my nervous system, bringing everything into sharp focus.

The abandoned strip club in the middle of nowhere. My missing phone.Him.

My heart batters against my ribs, but I refuse to show fear, even when he turns me around so we’re standing face to face. His broad frame, encased in dark tactical armor, fills the space, with the visor concealing his eyes. I can’t see an inch of skin yet I still quail under the intensity in his stare.

He steps back, giving me just enough space to breathe, but not enough to run. Since this bastard can call my boss and even pay the firm a retainer, he can also report me for walking out on a client.

I lick my dry lips, making him draw forward, seeming to track the movement.

“Mr. Brisket,” I say, keeping my voice even. “How can I help you?”

“I’ve got all sorts of problems, little Ginny. But right now, you’re the only one that matters.”

He wraps an arm around my waist again, moving us to the bar, where a bucket of champagne awaits. With a flick of his gloved hand, he pops the cork, and I force myself not to flinch.

“Celebrating something?” I ask.

“Our new association.” He fills the flutes with bubbling liquid, then hands me a glass. His gloved fingers brush mine, sending a jolt of electricity to my core. “You and me, working together.”

I take the glass but don’t bring it to my lips. “And what exactly is this work?”

“I’m a man obsessed. There’s this particular little lawyer I can’t get out of my head.”

My breath quickens. “I’m engaged.”

“Samson Capello is dead,” he growls.

I flinch. Of course, he’d know about Samson. He would have walked past my ex’s carcass when he found me in the closet. “I’m engaged to Benito Montesano, the new owner of the biggest casino in town.”

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