Stalking Ginevra (Morally Black Book 4)

I almost wish Benito had brought me to our old hideout any other time because I’m too nervous to appreciate the improvements he made to the treehouse’s interior. The trunk and thickest branches still bisects its center, but it looks less like a kid’s sanctuary and more like a nature retreat.

It’s lighter, more airy, since most of the walls were now large windows, giving panoramic views of the forest. Benito walks me past a new kitchen area, complete with a wood-burning stove, to where we used to have our old bunk beds. He converted them into a beautiful reading nook of a deep chaise surrounded by bookshelves.

“I can’t believe what you’ve done with the place,” I say, my voice breathy with awe.

He shrugs. “While Roman was on death row, he put Cesare and me on lockdown. Instead of fighting my guards, I brought them here to help me rebuild this place and give me something to occupy my mind.”

Pain gathers in my chest, rising to clog my throat. I swallow hard to dislodge it and fail. “If I’d said something earlier⁠—”

“Did you know what your father and Capello were planning?” he asks.

I shake my head.

“Then no more apologizing.” He places a hand on my shoulder and guides me down to the chaise. “I know why we broke up. Tell me what happened after.”

I sink down on the cushioned seat, wriggle out of my jacket, and toss it aside. Benito does the same and places an arm around my waist.

“You need to understand I hated Samson. Even before the forced engagement.”

He nods. We all moved in similar circles. Dad was Uncle Enzo’s attorney, Frederic Capello was his lead enforcer, so I often met the Capello twins at family functions. They were loud, crass, and psychopathic, but they left me alone because I belonged to their boss’s son.

I blow out a long breath. “Samson was polite enough in public. His father would never allow him to disrespect me if it meant jeopardizing his working relationship with Dad.”

“But in private?”

Fragments flash through my senses: Samson’s cold eyes boring into my soul, his grating laughter mingling with the jeers of his friends, the crack of his fist against my skull. My heart clenches, and I clutch at Benito’s shirt.

“Samson… he…” Throat tightening, my voice drops to a whisper. Memories swarm my mind, splintered and unforgiving. I shove them back and concentrate on forming words. “He didn’t think women were fully human. I was just an object to him. There was no conversation, only commands.”

Benito pulls me into his chest, and I relax against his stronger body under a wave of nostalgia. The warmth of his hand stroking my arm anchors me to the present. Not being able to see his reaction makes it easier to speak. Bands of stress wind around my chest, urging me to offload. He needs to know what I endured so he can finally understand that leaving him was my worst mistake.

“I’ve never met anyone so twisted.” The words come jagged and broken, as if dredging them up is tearing me apart. “He used to parade me in front of his friends.”

Stiffening, his breath quickens, and his grip on my side tightens like he’s bracing himself to hear the worst. “Samson shared you with other men?”

Bile rises to the back of my throat. “He told them I was too ugly to fuck and sometimes ripped off my clothes to prove his point. The others would laugh and agree with him.”

“Bastard.” Benito’s voice shakes with restrained rage, his grip on my side tightening as if trying to hold himself back. “I should have been there. I should have stopped it.”

I squeeze his hand. “There was nothing you could have done.”

“If I’d known, I would have torn him apart.” Benito’s voice thickens with emotion. “I would have made sure he paid for every second of your humiliation.”

Tears sting my eyes, blurring my vision. My chest tightens like a vise, each breath catching in my throat. A sob escapes before I can stop it, and I clutch tighter at Benito’s arm, hiccupping as I force myself to continue. “Samson’s family had taken everything from yours. He was unstoppable back then.”

“What he did to you was unforgivable. And dangerous,” he growls, his shoulders trembling, his breath coming in ragged bursts. “Did his friends give you any trouble when his back was turned?”

A bitter laugh bubbles up in my chest, bringing up a flood of tears.

“What is it?” Benito asks, his voice halting.

“I…” My voice cracks, and curl inward under the weight of shame ripping through my spirit.

Tears flow freely down my face, making my vision double. My mind dredges up the sensation of the cold floor beneath my shins and the crack of his fist against my skull. Words stick in my throat, and I battle against the urge to retreat into silence. My chest convulses with painful, suffocating sobs, making me gasp for air.

“I… I can’t… I can’t breathe…”

“You’re safe now,” Benito’s voice cuts through the haze. “Take your time.”

Gulping, I nod. Gather my thoughts. “Do you remember Vito Rinaldi?”

He nods. “What happened?”

The memory crashes to the front, suffocating and sharp. “The first time Samson forced me to strip, he handed me a toy and told me to prove to his friends that I wasn’t a frigid bitch.” I inhale a shuddering breath, trying to block out the sounds of their laughter, the sight of Samson’s sneer as he drew back his fist. “When I refused, he punched me so hard on the temple that I saw stars.”

Benito’s heart pounds against my ear, his body tensing, his breath coming in ragged bursts. His arms tighten around me as if he’s afraid I’ll slip away. I relax against the ragged rise and fall of his chest as his body trembles beneath the weight of his fury. Strangely, his rage is a comfort—a sign that I deserved to be treated better.

“I fell… Hit my head,” I stammer, my words halting. My body shudders at the memory, the metallic taste of blood rising again in my throat. I can still feel the air freezing my sweat-dampened skin and shiver at the remembered snickering. “Vito picked up the toy… He tried shoving it inside me…”

Benito tenses, his heart pounding so hard that I feel the rhythm reverberate through my chest. He pulls me closer, tighter, as if shielding me from the ghosts of the past.

“And Samson let him?” he asks, the words strangled.

“No.” I shake my head as the shame pours out in ragged gasps. “Samson took that as an insult and beat Vito half to death for touching his property.”

“That son of a bitch should never have put you in that position,” Benito growls, his breath quickening like he’s barely holding back a storm.

“It was the sickest, most twisted thing I’d seen,” I rasp, each word scraping against my throat, leaving it raw. “The men crowded around Samson, yelling at him to stop. No one touched him because his dad was the boss. There was blood everywhere. It was carnage.”

The scene plays in my head like it’s happening again: the sharp scent of sweat and blood, the crowd’s jeers, and Samson’s sharp grin as he wiped his knuckles. My stomach churns, making me want to gag.

“Did he hurt you any further?”

I shake my head. “Gregor shoved some clothes in my face and told me to get dressed. I took an Uber home and ignored Samson’s calls until he turned up at the house a week later.”

“Did you tell anyone?”

“Mom was at one of her clinics again, and Dad only registered the part about Samson attacking Vito for touching me.” Fresh rage makes my voice shake, and I can barely form the words. “In his mind, he spun what I said into some chivalrous tale where Samson protected me from a groper.”noveldrama

“What a bastard,” Benito grits out through his teeth, his body tightening like he’s trying to force himself to stay calm. “If he wasn’t already dead, I would kill him for you. If I had known…” His voice breaks, the words faltering as he glances down at me, his eyes burning with helplessness. “I should have known. I can’t believe I didn’t see what you were suffering. I would have done something—anything—to protect you.”

“Thanks,” I reply, my throat thick with tears. “It was strange. Samson didn’t like men leering at his property, yet he still put me on display. After that night, his men acted like I was the most uninteresting thing in the world.”

“He did it again?” Benito asks.

I nod. “He didn’t allow me clothes when I was in his presence, but after what happened to Vito Rinaldi, no-one dared pay me much attention.”

“I’m so sorry,” he says, hugging me tighter.

My eyes flutter closed. “It wasn’t every day,” I say with a sigh. “Samson let me live at home, go to work, have a life separate from him. He’d forget about me until there was a formal event where I had to be on his arm. The humiliation rituals usually followed.”

“Shit.”

“After his entire family died, he lost his mind. At first, he hid out at our house. He was too grief stricken to think of pulling any of his bullshit but everything changed when he regrouped.”

“What do you mean?” he asks.

“He rented a house further down Alderney Hill and tried to gather a small army. With enough men, he planned to bypass your security and get his revenge. He dragged me along to serve as his punching bag.”

“He hurt you?”

“Emotional punching bag,” I mutter. “By then, I’d stopped resisting. What was the point of fighting someone much stronger when I’d get hurt and have to do what he wanted anyway?”

Benito rubs comforting circles on my back. His lips brush my temple, but his body remains taut with tension. “What happened?”

“By then, he’d learned Japanese bondage. While he was waiting for the right moment to attack your house, he was tying me in knots, trying to prove himself a kink master.”

“What an asshole,” he mutters.

Shifting, I roll my shoulders, trying to shrug off the memory of ropes digging into my skin. “He was always compensating.”

“For what?”

“I heard something happened to his penis shortly after we got engaged. That’s why he only raped me once.”

Benito’s entire body stiffens again, and his hand tightens on my back. For a moment, I think he might snap. “Ginevra, I’m sorry⁠—”

“It was more unpleasant than painful,” I say. “He was the size of a jumbo tampon. All that puffing and thrusting then a disgusting spurt.”

“He shouldn’t have touched you in the first place,” Benito whispers, his hand trembling where it rests against my back. “I should have known something was wrong. I should have been there.”

“At least that was in private. The public humiliation was the worst.” Closing my eyes, I rest my face on Benito’s chest. Memories press down from all directions, bitter and sharp. The words catch in my throat, each one clawing its way out. “I don’t know how I endured it for so long… Maybe I thought it would hurt less, but it didn’t.”

Benito’s fingers comb through my hair, each stroke a balm against the tension gripping my spine. I return to the present, bringing back all that remembered pain.

“So, now, you know,” I say. “If I could change the past, I would have spent the last five years living here with you in this treehouse.”

“If I could change the past, I wouldn’t have accepted your rejection,” he replies, his voice tight with regret. “I should have known something was wrong when you broke our engagement.”

“Don’t.” I place a hand on his chest and draw back to gaze into his eyes.

Pain etches into his paling features, his eyes darkening as if my trauma has seared into his soul. His gaze locks on mine, raw and unflinching, like he’s absorbing every ounce of my agony. The sight of him so affected by my story is strangely healing. Mom always acted too drunk to understand my pain, and Martina twisted everything I told her into some exciting kink. Finally, after all these years, I feel seen.

“My dad ordered me to make our break up convincing. If I told you the truth, then your family would know mine was allying with a potential enemy.”

His lips tighten.

“Everyone to blame for this is dead,” I say. “Let’s put the past behind us and make up for lost time.”

Eyes softening, he gazes down at me with so much love that my heart flutters. The warmth in his gaze melts away the last of my defenses. Maybe losing Benito’s friendship for so long was a blessing because this new version of him treats me like I’m the most alluring creature in existence.

“How can I help you feel better?” he asks, his voice lowering several octaves.

“Make me feel beautiful.” I wrap my fingers around the back of his neck and pull him down for a kiss.