Stalking Ginevra (Morally Black Book 4)

Hours after that farce with my cousin in the Dolce Vita changing room, I’m parked outside the Di Marco Group’s building. My eyes are glued to the footage of Nick Terranova’s office.

I’m surprised Elania even agreed to the charade after that bullshit she pulled at the crematorium. Aria refused on the grounds that she wasn’t ‘wearing no fucking wig to fuck with a relationship that could be fixed with a conversation,’ while her less pleasant twin jumped at the chance to cause mayhem. I needed to remind Ginevra she had an option better than Brisket, yet she failed to fall onto her knees.

Ginevra sits across the desk from Nick, her shoulders tense, her expression wavering between exhaustion and suspicion. She’s about to regret ever answering his call on a Saturday.

I made sure Nick knew exactly what to say to twist the knife. Since she tried to drag Brisket into solving her problems, it’s time to escalate. The feed flickers as Nick leans back, his lips curling into a smug grin.

He’s about to drop a pile of shit on her pretty little head, and I’m here for the fallout.

I lean forward, the anticipation a dark thrill. This is where the pressure builds, where she starts to realize there’s no one willing to help her but me.

Onscreen, Nick steeples his fingers. “There’s a tape of you at the Meat Show, with Mr. Brisket.”

Gasping, Ginevra tightens her grip on the chair. I smirk. The footage only exists in the privacy of my phone. No one gets to see Ginevra but me. However, I want her to believe Brisket would expose her to the world.

“I didn’t make a tape,” she rasps.

“The recording says otherwise. You were supposed to help Mr. Brisket with his legal issue, not fuck him.”

She stiffens, her eyes wide with shock. I breathe hard, savoring her discomfort, loving how those pretty lips tremble. In ten minutes, she’ll be crawling to me, begging on her knees where she belongs.

Nick leans forward, his smile chilling. “Care to watch it? See for yourself?”

When she doesn’t answer, he clicks a remote. The sounds of our conversation at the Meat Show filters through the speakers. She recoils, her gaze snapping to the screen behind him. Fear flickers across her face, and I savor my victory.

It’s just the opening moments of the recording before things get exciting. In a minute, the screen will go dead, but she’s not to know.

“Turn it off!” she cries.

Nick pauses the replay and stares at her across the table, letting the silence stretch. She squirms in her seat, her pretty features twisting with anguish. I tilt my head, wondering what’s going through her mind.

Will she continue turning to Brisket for help or finally realize he’s a villain bent on her destruction? Just as it looks like she’s about to make up an excuse, Nick finally speaks.

“These antics go against our firm’s code of conduct and the ethics of an attorney. You could lose your license.”

She whimpers.

I lean in closer, relishing her reaction. She’s teetering on the edge, and the threat of losing everything she’s worked for is exactly the push she needs.

Nick launches into a lecture about her shitty performance and how her presence is a distraction to her colleagues. It’s all true. Nick, the receptionist, and Martina Mancini have kept alive rumors about what Joseph Di Marco might have done with the firm’s missing millions.

Di Marco ran the organization to the ground, since the majority of his work centered on non-paying clients. He protected Frederic Capello’s illegal operations from the law, never sending out a single invoice.

Pro bono work for a demanding client and his cohorts is the quickest way to go broke. Bellavista also never paid a dime in legal fees for the five years Di Marco took control. The firm also defended relatives of the old man, such as Gianni and Valentino Bossanova, for free.

With all this shit uncovered, everyone in the organization can’t help but ask if Ginevra knew about her father’s fraudulent dealings.noveldrama

She didn’t. According to Martina, Joseph kept her far from his schemes. She wasn’t even allowed to work with the firm’s gangster clients.

But Martina knows Di Marco’s dirty secrets. She thinks fucking her new boss will make her immune from the fallout. Nick only keeps her around because he wants to know if Di Marco has any hidden accounts.

“What about you?” Ginevra snaps, her voice pulling me out of my musings. “Screwing Martina over a desk doesn’t exactly scream ethics.”

“Your father had me struck off, remember? Don’t deflect the conversation away from how you fucked a client.”

Her breath hitches, and I can almost see the anger giving way to desperation.

“It wasn’t my fault,” she says, her voice cracking.

Nick leans in, his expression darkening. “Are you accusing Mr. Brisket of sexual assault?”

She freezes, her eyes widening, her mouth opening and closing but making no sound.

Nick doesn’t give her a moment to recover. “No? Then what do you have to say for yourself?”

The room falls back into silence.

“Give me something,” Nick growls. “Your performance is shit. You’re distracting my staff, and you’re bringing the firm to further disrepute. You’re a dead weight—just like your father.”

When her face crumples, my nostrils flare.

Nick didn’t need to go so hard.

“Miss Di Marco,” he says over her sobs. “I have no other option but to let you go. Leave the building. You’re no longer an employee of this firm. One of my interns will pack your things and deliver them to your home.”

She’s crumbling, her armor falling away. This is the downfall I engineered, but the part of me that still loves Ginevra wants to rush out and protect her from the world.

The meltdown lasts less than a minute before she forces her features into a mask of composure. Without a word, she rises from her seat and walks to the door. I lean back in my seat, torn between guilt and satisfaction. This never would have escalated if she hadn’t refused my proposal.

I’m a bastard, but still determined to make her mine.

As she walks out of the office, I make a quick call to the loan sharks. “Be outside the Di Marco house in thirty minutes. Offer her twenty-four hours to find the money or she will be trafficked. If she invokes my name, tell her you checked, and she isn’t engaged.”

“Sure thing, Mr. Montesano,” says the foreman.

Ending the call, I glance at the firm’s double doors, wondering when she’ll exit, when my phone rings. Nick’s number flashes on the screen, and I answer.

“It’s done,” Nick says. “But something’s off. Martina was supposed to take her out of the office to talk, but Miss Di Marco shoved her against the wall.”

“Shit,” I hiss, my plans to coincide with her shattering.

“Yeah. Last I saw of her, she was followed into the elevator by a male colleague.”

“Who?”

“Julian Riva. He’s harmless—a bit of a leech, but nothing more.”

“What does that mean?” I snarl.

Nick hesitates, and I can practically hear him choosing his words. “The little asshole has a crush on Miss Di Marco.”

My jaw tightens. I have no doubt that this Julian Riva character will take this opportunity to swoop in and make a move on my Ginevra.

“Send the interns after them,” I snap, hanging up before Nick can respond.

My gaze returns to the window, where there’s no sign of Ginevra or Julian exiting the building. I grind my teeth.

Julian Riva wasn’t part of any plan.