Stalking Ginevra (Morally Black Book 4)

The next morning, I glare at the dining table with my head buried in my hands, trying to tune out the chatter. Sunlight streams in through the patio doors, searing my skin.

My head pounds, my chest burns, and my gut churns with anxiety. I didn’t sleep a fucking wink with Ginevra’s torture playing through my mind on repeat. We’ve lost track of Bellavista, but I can handle him later. All I want now is my wife.

“You can’t wire some stranger a hundred million dollars in cash,” Roman growls. “How the hell do we get it back?”

“Get him on the phone,” says Cesare. “We can track his location. Rosalind and I can take him out… Or bring him back alive for torture.”

“Right,” Rosalind adds from his side.

My head snaps up, and I glare at the dark-haired assassin dressed in black to match my little brother. “I thought you of all people would be more sympathetic to Ginevra’s cause.”

She purses her lips, her eyes sharpening. As a professional equally as trained as Leroi, she bristles at the reminder of being a hostage.

I caught glimpses of what Cesare made her endure, and even took notes. Any sane woman should drive a knife into his gut. Instead, she’s still deep in the throes of Stockholm syndrome and showing no signs of recovery.

“We have forty hours between now and the drop-off point,” she clips. “There’s no reason to spend that time not searching for your wife.”

“Rosalind has a point,” Leroi snarls as though agreeing with her is agonizing.

I whirl around, casting my cousin a glower. He only meets it with an even stare.

Roman called a family meeting to discuss last night’s disaster. I made the mistake of asking him to lend me the thirty million he stole back from his estranged wife. Naturally, he demanded a reason for such a large transfer of cash, and I had to reveal the truth.

We’re sitting in the dining room because Roman says an emergency like this calls for a family brunch. He sits at the head of the table, with the space on his right conspicuously empty. I can’t linger on how much he’s pining for his wife. Not when my own wife is in peril.

I’m sitting at his left, between him and Leroi, with Seraphine at the far end. Next to her sits Sofia, who looks ready to faint. She’s known Ginevra even longer than me, and used to pamper her like a daughter. Rosalind and Cesare take the seats next to Emberly’s empty space, with Gil sitting across from Sofia.

A knock sounds on the door, and Roman barks at them to enter. It’s Reaper, looking rumpled from last night. Four of our boys were injured in the explosion and are recovering from burst eardrums, cracked ribs, and minor burns.

“Professor Cortese,” Roman gestures at the place at the farthest end of the table. “Take a seat.”

Reaper glances at the empty place beside my older brother but doesn’t comment. After serving as my best man, he knows that Roman poached our officiant for a sneak wedding, which backfired.

My big brother’s posture at the head of the table is stiff and motionless, so much like Dad that I tense in my seat. His food remains untouched, his eyes locked on me with that familiar calculating stare. He isn’t just watching—he’s sizing me up, and it sets my nerves on edge.

“You’re sure Ginevra’s a victim in all this?” Roman asks.

The words land like a slap. My blood freezes, then boils with a fury that tightens my throat. I shoot out of my seat, staring down at the skeptical bastard.

“What the fuck does that mean?” I snarl.

Roman leans back in his seat, his gaze hardening as if he’s ready for a fight. My brother might be jacked from his time on death row, but I’ll kick the shit out of him to defend Ginevra’s honor.

“I’ve had nearly five years to think about what went wrong,” he says. “We all know Capello didn’t just waltz in and steal our fortune. He was working behind the scenes, setting up each piece before he made a move against Dad. Every step was calculated.”

My pulse hammers in my ears. I clench my jaw, waiting for him to get to the fucking point.

“The first sign of trouble was Ginevra breaking your engagement,” he says. “She pulled away before everything went to hell. That means she knew something was brewing but didn’t say a word.”

Nostrils flaring, I glance at Cesare, who meets my gaze with a steady nod. Even he agrees with Roman. Maybe my little brother was harboring doubts all along. I grit my teeth, swallowing back the urge to yell that I’m not stupid.

“Don’t you think I came to the same conclusion,” I grit out. “Joseph Di Marco beat Ginevra into submission and threatened her mother. She didn’t have a choice.”

Roman and Cesare exchange a look, their silence screaming bullshit. The distrust in the air is so suffocating, I want to smash open a window.

“If she was so scared, why didn’t she come here?” Cesare leans back, mirroring Roman, and crosses his arms. “She practically lived with us. She would have been safe.”

“Didn’t you hear the part where I said he threatened her mother? Besides, she was young.”

Cesare scoffs. “She was twenty-four. I’m twenty-four. You think I’d stab someone I loved in the back?”

His accusation is a kick to the balls, but I don’t flinch. “It’s easy to talk shit when you’re not a defenseless woman. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t do anything to save Mom.”noveldrama

Stiffening, his mouth snaps shut. The room goes still, the tension heavy and electric. Rosalind squeezes his hand, and leans her head on his shoulder as if he’s already told her about his special connection with our mother.

Leroi sighs. “We’re wasting time bickering. Whatever happened in the past doesn’t change the fact that some asshole is holding a Montesano woman hostage.”

“Finally, a sensible thought,” Sofia says, her voice sharp. Our housekeeper leans forward, turning her gaze to me. “How much money do you have?”

“Forty million in cash,” I rasp. “It’s all I can pull together at short notice. I need sixty more.”

Silence falls over the dining table. I don’t expect anyone to volunteer, since the only person more desperate to save Ginevra is Sofia. I don’t expect anything but judgment.

“I have ten,” Leroi says from his end of the table.

My head whips to the side.

He shrugs. “Any woman who spent time with Samson Capello doesn’t deserve to become another hostage.”

I glance at Seraphine, who’s sitting next to him, her expression tight. Something unspoken flickers over her blue eyes that makes me suppress a shudder. One day, I might pluck up the courage to ask her what happened in Capello’s basement, but this morning, all I feel is gratitude.

“Thank you,” I say, my words choked.

Cesare exhales a dramatic sigh. I turn to find his head bowed, his fingers tapping against the table in a restless rhythm. When he finally looks up, his eyes meet mine with resignation.

“I’ve got twenty,” he mutters.

All the air escapes my lungs. I blink, trying to comprehend his offer.

“Why?” I croak.

Cesare’s features soften. “Because you love her,” he says with a shrug. “And you’re important to me.”

Rosalind wraps her arms around his chest and plants a kiss on his cheek. Everything I said about the assassin’s Stockholm syndrome vanishes. Her love has brought out his compassion.

All eyes shift to Roman, who sits unmoved with his fingers steepled. My big brother controls nearly a billion dollars in assets, including a loan company, and at least a hundred million in cash.

Every second he hesitates feels like a noose tightening around my neck. Victor Bellavista already bruised Ginevra’s face, stripped her naked. He could be violating her in ways I can’t bear to imagine. My chest tightens, with ropes of anticipation pulling every nerve as I wait for his decision.

“Alright,” Roman growls.

The noose snaps, and the tension around my throat eases with a breath of relief. Emotion clogs my lungs, tears prick my eyes, and all I can do is nod.

I look across the room at my family, my heart swelling. Roman matches my nod, Cesare grins, and Rosalind beams up at me with a warm smile. Next to her is Gil, who gives me a thumbs up.

At the far end of the table, Reaper offers a tight smile. It’s bitter sweet, as he’s probably thinking about the five years his sister, Isabella, spent as Tommy Galliano’s hostage.

Sofia wipes her tears with a handkerchief, her eyes shining with relief. Next to her, Seraphine’s blue eyes are hopeful and bright. Leroi brings her hand to his lips and offers me a tight nod, making me wonder if it was Seraphine who bore the brunt of Samson’s sadism.

“Thank you.” My voice cracks, the words barely enough to convey the depth of my gratitude. “I’ll repay you all. Every cent.”

Roman glances away and grunts. I can’t tell if it’s out of regret or frustration that winning back his wife won’t be so easy.

Silence falls across the room for several heartbeats. When this is over, I’ll fall to my knees and beg Ginevra for forgiveness. This mess is completely my fault, and I’ll spend a lifetime making amends.

Reaper clears his throat. “Now that we have the ransom, I think we can discuss our plans to track Bellavista.”

The room erupts into a flurry of chatter, with Roman and Gil coordinating the Montesano men, and Reaper the Mortis House boys. Cesare and Rosalind are a team, as are Leroi and Seraphine, who want to participate, even though Leroi is still injured.

I return to my seat, watching my family rally around to save Ginevra despite their reservations. Appreciation floods my heart, threatening to overflow. They’ve given me the lifeline I needed. Now it’s up to me to make sure it’s enough.

With every ounce of determination, I make a silent vow. I will bring Ginevra back and we will roast that bastard on a spit.