Stalking Ginevra (Morally Black Book 4)

The city rushes past in a blur of muted lights and steel-gray shadows, but my focus isn’t on the road. My phone buzzes on my lap with Ginevra’s location. The little dot representing her green kimono speeds around Alderney Hill.

Relief pulses through my muscles as she nears the entrance of our family home. She’ll soon be secure behind those walls, safe from whatever shitstorm Bellavista just unleashed at my casino.

A tightness in my chest eases as I turn my gaze back to the windshield. Once she’s in the pool house, surrounded by my best men, I might be able to breathe.

Thoughts of Ginevra fade into the background, and my mind returns to the attack on my casino. This was no petty grudge. It was a message. I don’t need to see the aftermath to know the culprit is Victor Bellavista.

The name rattles in my mind like a loose bullet. I’ve been closing in on him for days, following every thread of his network, every bastard who brought a counterfeit chip to my casino. He was desperate enough last week to murder Larry Zambino in cold blood.

Today’s explosion proves that I’m getting close.

I grit my teeth, forcing myself to focus on the road ahead as the driver navigates through traffic. Bellavista has been pushing my limits, testing me with grand-scale fraud, rigged machines, his little minions playing their games behind the scenes. And a bomb at the back of the casino.

His pathetic attempt to slow me down won’t work as long as I draw breath. I rub a hand over my face, failing to wipe off a layer of frustration. Ginevra is a constant pull on my thoughts, as are the constant drains on the casino. Over half of what’s wrong with the operation leads to Bellavista.

My phone vibrates, breaking through the tension. I glance down, finding Roman’s name flashing on screen. Putting him on speaker, I lean back into the seat, forcing my features into a semblance of control.

“Roman.”

“You heard about the explosion?” His voice comes through, low and rough, as if he’s been drinking the entire night.

“I’m on my way.”

There’s a pause, long enough that I can almost hear him rubbing a hand over his stubble. “It has to be Tommy Galliano. Makes sense after what we did to his brother.”

My brow furrows. “We don’t even know if Galliano survived the helicopter. Besides, he would’ve gone for Cesare or the house for revenge. Or hit the meth lab.”

Roman grunts. “The house is a fortress, and the meth lab is hidden. And don’t forget that Galliano was supposed to inherit the casino before we took it. He’d burn it to the ground out of spite.”

I grind my teeth, feeling the tension settle between my shoulders. Roman has a point, but Galliano is too hot headed to set off a small explosion. He’s more likely to rush in with guns blazing, like Scarface. Or Cesare.

“This is something else,” I mutter. “A man calling himself Victor Bellavista has siphoned cash from the casino for years. Now that I’m cutting him off, he’s pissed.”

Roman goes quiet on the other end. I can hear the doubt in his silence. I also imagine him slumped in his chair, his eyes bloodshot and unfocused, sinking further into depression.

Five years on Death Row is enough to break any man. Falling in love with the woman he was supposed to murder, only for her to discover the truth? If he only feels a fraction of my devotion to Ginevra, I don’t know how he’s still alive.

Finally, he exhales, the sound heavy with resignation. “You really think it’s Bellavista?”

“I would bet my life. Over the past week, people connected to his scams have disappeared, including members of staff. He’s killing everyone who might talk.”

“Have you spoken to Salvatore?”

“I’ve done more than speak to him,” I mutter. “The old man either knows nothing, or Victor’s got him by the balls.”

Roman falls quiet again with a sigh that makes my stomach plummet. If he wants that woman, he should drag her back home. She owes him for locking him up in that dark room. And for turning Dad’s classic Mercedes into scrap metal.

“I’ve made some calls,” I say, trying to steer the conversation from his dark thoughts. “Another casino’s been hit. Same counterfeit chip scam. The owner wants to meet in two days.”

“Which one?” Roman asks, sounding more alert.

“Casino Demartini,” I reply. “Emmanuel Demartini wants to meet in two days to discuss the threat.”

“You need backup?”

“It’s not that kind of meeting. He wants me to bring a date.”

“Sofia?” Roman asks, his voice tilting with curiosity.

I smirk. “No. My wife.”

Before he can berate me for sleeping with the enemy, I hang up. I didn’t announce my marriage, but Roman knows only one woman exists for me. Regardless of what she’s done, Ginevra has been mine since she stepped into our home. It’s just a matter of time before she’s too trapped and pregnant to consider leaving.

We bypass the chaos at the front of the casino, where evacuees are gathered under the flashing lights of emergency vehicles. The car stops at the back entrance, and I step out into the sharp tang of burnt metal and smoke. The blackened brickwork by the rear entrance makes me shudder. I can’t begin to calculate the structural damage.

Malfi and three guards emerge from around the corner. His eye is still swollen from when I beat the hell out of him for manhandling Ginevra, and I swear his nose didn’t bend so sharply to the left. The sight of that bastard grates under my skin, but I focus on what’s at stake.noveldrama

“Report,” I snap.

“It was two minor bombs,” Malfi starts, falling into step at my side. “They went off in the back with no major casualties. But there’s something else.”

I follow him around the corner, where we keep the trash. The smell of burnt debris sears my nostrils with broken glass crunching underfoot. Malfi hobbles like a man who knows he’s about to get another beating but wants to delay the inevitable.

He gestures at the ground where a small safe lies on its side among the smoking debris.

“It contained a note.”

My eyes narrow. “Did you open it?”

Malfi twitches. “Sorry, sir. But it burned. I didn’t have time to⁠—”

“What did it say?” I clench my jaw, biting back a string of curses.

He swallows. “It was a warning from the bomber. He said the name Victor Bellavista is just an alias and we should leave the Bellavista family alone.”

A sharp breath escapes my lungs, amusement laced with anger. “Spoken like someone who wants to protect the Bellavista family.”

“Get the security footage,” I snarl. “I want eyes on every inch of this place before, during, and after the explosion.”

Malfi scrambles away to carry out the orders. I turn on my heel and head back toward the car. This fight with Bellavista is far from over. And I won’t stop until I’ve crushed every last person standing in my way.