Stalking Ginevra (Morally Black Book 4)

I step out of the car, letting the cold breeze hit me like a slap, but the burst of juniper-scented air does nothing to clear the mess of my thoughts.

My mind won’t stop reeling from my first time with Ginevra. Her tight heat still clings to my shaft, and no amount of menthol can shift her aroma. I’m haunted by her moans, her gasps, the sight of her beneath me on the staircase.

Shit. It wasn’t supposed to be like this—in the dark, on concrete steps, with me pretending to be someone else, taking her like some damn thief.

But she gave me no choice.

It looked like we’d reached a breakthrough after I rescued her from the brink of multiple disasters and after a pleasant evening at the casino where we’d connected. But The moment I turned my back, she left.

It was wrong, but I couldn’t stop. Not when my heart only beats for her. Not when my blood only flows for one treacherous woman.

I pass a pair of gardeners at the flowerbeds, who nod a greeting. As I ascend the steps leading to the double doors, the morning sun shines down through the clouds, soaking through my armor. I press my palm into the warm wood, and it strikes me that this will be the first time I enter the house, no longer a virgin.

But I’m entering without my bride.

Last time I checked the app, she was still sobbing on the steps. I could pull out my phone and see if she’s skipped town, but what’s the point? Ginevra fucked another man, even after vowing to be faithful.

Granted, that other man was me in disguise, but my adulterous wife thinks he’s Bob Brisket.

With a snarl, I push open the door and step into the marble hallway. Coming here alone makes the weight of Ginevra’s betrayal settle deeper in my chest. I was supposed to carry her over the threshold.

Desire, dejection, disappointment churn together in a knot that tightens with each passing moment. After last night, I don’t even know if I can ever look her in the eye.

Gil emerges from around the corner, his face a stoic mask. At the sight of me, he frowns but doesn’t ask what’s wrong.

“Roman’s awake. He’s in his study.”

Stomach clenching at the reminder of my brother, I shove thoughts of Ginevra aside. Now isn’t the time to dwell on my adulterous wife. Not when Roman is going through hell and Tommy Galliano might still be alive.

I walk toward the study, my steps dragging on the marble floor tiles. Gil follows at a distance but pauses before I reach the door. Turning back to him, I say, “Send for Cesare.”

With a nod, Gil disappears around the corner, leaving me to step inside. My gaze lands on the portrait above Roman’s desk. Emberly captured his commanding presence down to the sharp angles of his face.

The man in the picture looks powerful, in control… deadly.

The man slouched on the sofa in the far right of the room is a mere shell.

Roman’s head hangs like he’s carrying the weight of the world. He continues staring into his tumbler of whiskey even when I cross the room. A black shirt hangs off his frame like he’s been on a hunger strike, and his gaunt features hang beneath three days of stubble.

The contrast between the man in the painting and the one sitting before me is like a punch to the balls.

I fold my arms, watching him swirl the glass as if the amber liquid contains the answers to his problems. The Roman who spent half a decade on death row never looked so broken.

“She locked me in that room,” he mutters, his voice cracking. “No phone. No clothes. Left me tied to the furniture like a fucking dog.”

My eyes narrow. “Emberly?”

Fingers tightening around the tumbler, he nods. I expect the crystal to shatter any second.

“Didn’t think she had it in her,” he mutters.

I step closer. “Where is she, now?”

Roman lets out a short, humorless laugh. “Probably pregnant.”

My jaw drops. “How would you know?”

Leaning back, Roman drags a hand through his hair and stares up at me through red-rimmed eyes. “I tampered with her birth control.”

“Why?” I rasp.

“Figured it’d give me some leverage for when she discovered the truth.”

His words hang in the air, thickening the tension. I study my big brother, my mind working through the implications. That was bold, reckless even, but in desperate times, even the lowest of measures are justifiable…

Even if she was Capello’s daughter.

“What made you think it would stop her from retaliating?” I rasp.

He raises his head, finally meeting my gaze. His eyes are so bloodshot, I wonder if it’s more than just the booze.

“Wouldn’t you have done the same if it meant keeping Ginny Di Marco?”

Throat thickening, I swallow, my thoughts shifting back to Ginevra. If I’d made her pregnant five years ago, then she wouldn’t have left me for Samson. Her desire to protect that child would have been stronger than her desire to protect her mother.

Would a baby tie her to me, now? My fingers flex at the possibility.

“It’s not the worst idea,” I murmur.

Scoffing, Roman tosses back the rest of his drink. “My timing was fucked. She was supposed to discover the pregnancy before the revelation, but she figured it all out. Then she locked me in that fucking dungeon before I could explain why I stole her inheritance.”

“You only took back Dad’s assets,” I mutter.

Roman sets down the glass with a clink, his features tight with regret. After several beats of silence, I cross the room, lower myself into an armchair and pick up the decanter. After topping up Roman’s glass, I pour myself a shot.

Ginevra needs someone to fixate on other than her mother… or her libido. She would give her all to a helpless baby. If she can’t commit to me, then she will to our child.

That’s if she hasn’t already skipped town. She would think about leaving, but that would leave Losanna exposed. Shaking my head, I shove aside the thought. There’s more to deal with than the mess I’ve made of my marriage.

“You think she’ll forgive you for that?” I ask, already suspecting the answer.

He leans back against the sofa, rubbing his face with both hands like he’s trying to erase the memory. “Would you?”

I shake my head, not wanting to add to his misery, and keep my mouth shut. My thoughts drift back to Ginevra, the way her body surrendered to mine—to Brisket’s. How she came around another man’s cock, milking me to the point of insanity.

Arousal surges to my groin, making me stiffen.

What the fuck? Does that make me a cuck?

I shove away the image. Not now. I have to focus.

Roman’s gaze burns the side of my face, his bloodshot eyes sharpening. No one knows I’m back with Ginevra, except maybe my cousin, since I needed a woman at my side to give the appearance of moving on. Elania mocked me relentlessly. She was the worst choice of wingwoman, but there’s no way I could get Aria into a dress.

My brother’s idea wasn’t bad. His execution was off, but I might be able to improve on his manipulation. Pregnancy could anchor Ginevra to me for at least another two decades. That, and a touch of financial control.

But I push those thoughts aside. “Gil found Dad’s Mercedes,” I say, watching him from the corner of my eye. “Cubed.”

His body tenses. “Where?”

“Scrapyard.”

Roman sighs, his grip tightening on the glass. For a second, I think he’s going to throw it against the wall. “I told her how much the car meant to me. That was probably her last fuck you.”

My jaw tightens. “That was low, even for a Capello.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t.”

“What?”

“Emberly isn’t like them,” he rasps. “She’s good and sweet and kind. I should have explained the situation to her from the start.”

“And have her run into her cousin Galliano’s arms?” I ask.

“She wouldn’t.”

“Cesare and his little assassin were held hostage by the Galliano brothers. She told them how she left you to die. That’s how he knew where to find you.”

Roman sits up, his eyes widening. “She went to them?”

“They have bigger things to worry about than a penniless cousin with a grudge.”

“What do you mean?”

I tell Roman everything, from Cesare’s frantic phone call to what we found last night at the Marina. My men fished Matty Galliano from the water after my brother finished harpooning him to death. The old bastard’s corpse is now at the crematorium, where Elania will preserve it to serve as bait for Tommy… that’s if he survived the helicopter crash.

“Fuck,” Roman mutters, shaking his head with disbelief.

I lean back, exhaling away the weight of our conversation. “What do we do about Cesare?”

Roman’s gaze sharpens. “How does he even know the Gallianos were telling the truth about his parentage?”

“He seemed pretty convinced last night, and it explains the murders.”

Roman blinks. “What?”

I recap how Leroi murdered Matty Galliano’s offspring, who had stayed the night during the Capello massacre, which had made Matty Galliano desperate for a new heir. “When Cesare didn’t defect, Matty tried to create a wedge between us with the murders.”

Roman slumps back, his eyes squeezing shut. “But Matty?” His voice tightens, disbelief coloring every word. “How the hell, when Mom married Tommy?”

“No idea,” I say with a sigh.

“Where is he, now?”

“Sleeping it off with the assassin and his new little sister.”

Roman cocks his head, glaring at me for an explanation, but I shrug. There wasn’t enough time last night to demand answers when we had to deploy two search parties. One for Roman, who we thought might be heavily guarded or dead, and the second for Cesare.

I wanted to ask my little brother last night when he boarded with his girls, but my concentration went to shit when I discovered Ginevra had gone home. All I cared about was intercepting her before she skipped town. After leaving Reaper in charge of the clean up, I returned to the marina via jet ski.

“When did Cesare find out?”

“We’ll have to ask him when he comes.”

Roman rubs his temples, the weight of the revelation sinking through all that whiskey. “So… what the hell does that mean for us?”

“He’s still Mom’s son,” I say.

Nodding, my big brother releases a low breath, probably still reeling from the news. Neither of us speaks for a while, the silence growing heavier with every second.

“What’s the situation with Tommy Galliano?” Roman finally asks.

I knock back my whiskey and grimace. “After Rosalind shot down his helicopter, we scoured the waters but found no bodies.”

Roman lets out a harsh breath, shaking his head as if trying to clear the fog. “And if he’s alive?”

“If Tommy survived, we’ll deal with him and the rest of those Galliano bastards.”

A knock on the door cuts through the tension. Gil pokes his head through. “Cesare’s coming down.”

I sit up. Maybe our little brother can shed light on why Mom left. It might give me an insight into the mystery that is Ginevra.