Page 61 of Stalking Ginevra

His posture stiffens, and his shoulders hunch. He stares down at me as if I just claimed to be connected to Scarface or Don Corleone. Breathing hard, he finally utters, “You’re bluffing.”

I suppress a smirk. Invoking Benito’s name is getting me out of all kinds of trouble. Straightening, I raise my chin. “He proposed to me last night. The only reason I don’t have a ring is because he’s been busy taking back his casino.”

He studies me, his gaze dropping on my empty hand before returning to my face. The silence stretches, making the air crackle with tension. My stalker was probably out last night, helping Benito. That explains why he failed to appear in my room.

As he shifts on his feet, I force back a pang of regret. Maybe it was too heavy handed of me to hint that I could get him into trouble with his boss. I shake off that thought. Why am I sympathizing with this bastard?

“So, it’s not official yet,” he rumbles. “Until you can prove it is, you belong to me.”

He wraps his fingers around the hand holding the glass and brings it to my lips. The liquid bubbles on my tongue, washing away the taste of fear.

“Benito is a dangerous man,” I murmur. “Your boss won’t take kindly to you touching what belongs to him.”

“Let me handle Mr. Montesano,” he growls.

“Why am I here?”

“To give me a show.”

I set down the glass and look him straight in the visor. “This is completely inappropriate. I’m an attorney, not an adult entertainer.”

His arm whips out, and he grabs my throat. “I bought and paid for you, little Ginny. Now, you perform.”

Breath catching, a dangerous thrill surges through my veins, battling the fear. Anger flares at Terranova for not vetting this client and at Brisket for hiring me like I’m available for services. I pull back, resisting the urge to submit.

“No,” I whisper, more to myself than to him.

But it’s a battle I’m not sure I’ll win.

TWENTY-SIX

BENITO

I glare down at Ginevra, my jaw clenching. How typical of her to walk out on my proposal of marriage, yet use it to escape trouble. The sharks I sent to her doorstep didn’t know what to do when she mentioned my name.

It’s time to escalate. If she thinks Bob Brisket will back down, she’s mistaken. I’ll leave her so broken and humiliated that she has no choice but to come to me for protection.

I tighten my grip around her throat, making those pretty features twist with anguish. Her skin reddens, becoming nearly as vibrant as her hair.

She shoves at my chest, but she may as well be trying to fell a tree barehanded. My disdain for her has roots as deep as my desire.

“Let go of me,” she says through clenched teeth. “If Benito finds out?—”

“That you love to suck my cock?” I growl through the voice changer.

Whimpering, she squeezes her eyes shut. The sight of her so conflicted sends a rush of heat to my groin, making myshaft lengthen and thicken. There’s a part of her that loves my attention almost as much as I love making her grovel.

If I had satisfied her urges in the past, maybe she wouldn’t have stabbed me in the back.

“Will you strip for me, little Ginny, or will I have to strip you with my knife?”

She shivers. “Don’t destroy my clothes. I need them for driving back.”

I smirk. “Then you’d better give me a show.”

Releasing my grip on her throat, I step back, lean against the bar, and sweep an arm toward the stage. Tonight, Ginevra will be my private dancer, my pretty little slut.

Standing on trembling legs, she clutches the lapels of her jacket together as if they’re holding her last shreds of dignity. “But Benito…”