Innocent in the Italian's Possession (8 page)

She wet her lips and he knew she was tempted. “I shouldn’t.”

Ah, but she wanted dessert.

He found her willpower annoying and admirable.

“How is Cesare today?” she asked.

She gave the impression she was as delicate as the crystal stem of the glass he clutched in his hand. But he knew there was steel in her spine. Not enough, though.

He could snap the wineglass as easily as he would break her.
Mio Dio
, right now he wanted to do both!

Soon, he told himself. He’d satisfy his revenge soon.

He waited to reply as the waiter bustled in with the platter of antipasto and then left them to their privacy. Those few moments seemed to make her more anxious.

“Papa is stable and resting,” he said.

A slight smile touched her mouth, but her expansive sigh relayed her relief and drew his attention to the quick rise and fall of her bosom. “I’ve been worried.”

More likely she was concerned about her future role in his papa’s life! He speared shrimp, smoked tuna and vegetables onto his plate and let his anger ebb again. Her cushy lifestyle was crashing to an end around her, whether she realized it or not.

What did she value above all else?

By her own admission she’d invested a lot of money in her family’s inn in Manarolo—an inn that she held half ownership in. As he was aware exactly how much money she’d gained from his father, the refurbished inn must rival a five-star hotel on the Riviera!

Still, he found it interesting that she’d put up her shares as collateral on her loan. Even with improvements, he couldn’t imagine her assets would come close to covering his father’s loss, but if she and her family relied on the income from the inn, he could yank that security blanket out from under her.

“Tell me more about your family’s inn on Manarolo.”

Genuine excitement lit her eyes and he knew he was on the right track. “It’s a wonderful old house nearly five hundred years old. At least half of that time it’s been in our family.”

“Your mother’s family?” he asked as he passed the antipasto to her and insisted she eat.

“No, my papa’s.” She picked a pitiful few items off the platter—no wonder she was skin and bones! “The inn had passed from generation to generation to the oldest girl, but all Nonna had was Papa. So when Mamma gave birth to me, Nonna gave me half of the inn and let Mamma manage it for me. But when she died, it was up to Nonna to see to the inn and care for my brother, Emilio, and me while Papa fished.”

It was an arrangement he’d heard of with other working class Italians. Though he was curious about her mother’s death at such a young age, he didn’t wish to discuss the subject. Perhaps his own mamma’s untimely death was still too fresh on his mind.

“Your nonna continues to manage the inn then?” he asked, knowing full well Gemma couldn’t have done so the past year because she’d been busy bilking his father out of thousands of euros.

“With my sister-in-law’s help.”

He popped a succulent shrimp in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. He could have her past more thoroughly investigated, but that would take time. His patience had nearly run its course.

“What of your brother?” he asked. “Does he and his wife own the other half of the inn?”

“No,” she said, the denial swift and firm. “Emilio inherited Papa’s fishing business but decided to move it to La Spezia. He said it made good sense to base the business there where he’d be bringing in his day’s catch, and he didn’t mind taking the train from Manarolo each morning.”

Did she honestly believe that?

In the short time he’d had to look into Gemma Cardone’s
past, he’d discovered her brother strove to live the life of a playboy. His frequent visits to the Monte Carlo gaming tables were well-known, as was his debatable talent at poker.

The question was where had her brother come by his original bankroll?

Stefano doubted it was from fishing.

He suspected Gemma had fed her brother’s gambling habit with the money she’d gained from Cesare in hopes of doubling her family’s fortune. But had he been successful?

Rumor had it that Emilio Cardone had been on a losing streak of late. A destructive losing streak. What more had he sold in order to gamble?

“I do worry about Nonna,” she said, drawing his attention back to her.

There was genuine concern in her voice. While Stefano was curious what troubled her so, he refused to be moved by it.

“Why? Is your grandmother in poor health?”

She shook her head. “She seems hearty enough, but I know that my sister-in-law lets Nonna do the bulk of the work.”

“A bit of a shirker?” Like Cardone?

“She’s young and has a baby that demands her time.”

Stefano sipped his wine and let it all sink in. Around one year ago life for the Cardones had changed drastically thanks to Gemma becoming Cesare Marinetti’s secretary.

“I am curious how you came to work for my father,” he said.

She took a bite of mozzarella-topped tomato, stalling to answer he was sure. “I was in Milan attending university and we happened to meet.”

Stefano had made his fortune by his ability to read people. Right now he knew Gemma Cardone was lying through her straight pearly teeth. He suspected she was in Milan trolling for an easy victim who would support her and her worthless brother.

“Milan is a big city,” he said. “You were lucky to meet my father there, let alone be offered a job that you sought.”

“I am well aware of my good fortune,” she went on but carefully avoided meeting his eyes.

He stabbed a prosciutto-wrapped mushroom and ate it without appreciating its rich flavor.

To make Gemma suffer for the grief she had put his mamma through, all he had to do was seize control of her inn. That would be easily accomplished if she failed to make that first loan payment by midnight.

He’d own the hotel and Gemma Cardone. He would make her life hell.

The waiter returned with their main course, but Gemma showed little interest in the sumptuous meal. She sipped her orange soda and checked her watch.

The deadline was an hour away, and the calm she’d exhibited earlier was quickly fading. The frown marring her smooth brow hinted that things were not going as she’d planned.

“Is something wrong?” he asked as he refilled his wineglass, determined to remain unmoved by her growing distress.

“My brother was supposed to meet me here.”

The vintage wine threatened to sour on his tongue. How dare she invite someone to join them at dinner without consulting him!

“Why?”

Her gaze lifted to his and this time there was no mistaking the worry in their depths. “He is bringing the loan money. Would you mind if I ring him?”

He raised his glass in a mock salute and affected a smile. “Please, do.”

So this was her game. She’d claim some emergency had kept her brother from arriving on time so the loan payment
would be late. He was sure she’d beg for an extension. And he was sure another minor event would prevent that payment from arriving on time. And so it would go on.

She was about to learn that he was wise to these tactics. That he couldn’t be charmed like his father. That he wasn’t an easy mark.

This was business.

He excelled at crushing deals.

He wouldn’t be moved by tears, hysterics or pleading.

If she failed to honor her part of the contract, he’d take possession of her shares of the inn and her!

“Emilio,” she said into her trim mobile phone, an urgency in her voice that lifted the hairs on his nape. Her frown deepened on a pause. “Emilio?”

She looked at Stefano, her smooth brow furrowed in a deep frown. “There must be something wrong with the connection. He answered, but then all I could hear was bells and a crush of voices in the background. Then the call just ended.”

Sounds associated with a party. Or more likely the casinos, he thought as he watched her punch in the number again with a finger that clearly trembled.

Hadn’t his friend mentioned he’d be testing his luck at a high stakes poker game tonight? It was the same one that Cardone had lost a small fortune at last week.

Time crawled before she ended the call. She looked at him with eyes swimming with concern. Such an accomplished actress!

“Emilio isn’t answering.” She brushed back her wealth of sun-kissed hair with an impatient hand. “Something must be wrong.”

This was a stall tactic on her part and he’d have none of it. It was time she accepted the consequences of her own actions.

“Perhaps your brother is involved in a game.”

“Game?” she parroted.

“Poker. He’s spent long days in Monte Carlo the past week,” he said. “But his luck has deserted him and he’s down to bartering his assets to gamble.”

She went still, her face leached of color and her eyes far too huge for her gamine face. Prey. She looked like prey, and in that tense moment he was gripped by the urge to protect instead of ruin her.

Maledizione
! How could she stir such emotions in him?

“No! He wouldn’t do that.”

“I assure you he has done exactly that. Two weeks ago I accepted one of his trawlers to bankroll him in a game.” An aged gas-guzzling behemoth that caused more pollution than it was worth, but Stefano gladly paid the price just to get it off the waters.

Had he known then about Gemma and her wastrel brother, he’d have stayed in the game that had soon bored him just to bring her brother down. For it was clear that Gemma had made sure that the two of them profited greatly off his papa’s largess.

That was just the reminder he needed to harden his resolve. “If I hadn’t bought the trawler then someone else would have.”

“No! Emilio can’t still be gambling,” she said, shaking her head. “There is another reason why he hasn’t arrived yet.”

Could she be that blind to the truth?

As there was a strong chance that the pigeon returned to the same gaming tables tonight to roost, he made a call on his mobile to his closest friend, drilled a finger into the speaker icon and laid the phone on the table.

“
Bonjour
,” came Jean Paul’s greeting.

“
Ciao
,” Stefano replied. “Where are you?”

“Monte Carlo,” his friend said. “Sun Casino to be precise. The high stakes poker game starts in less than an hour.”

“Do you remember the young fisherman who sold me the old trawler a couple of weeks ago?” Stefano asked and locked gazes with Gemma.

“
Oui
. Cardone,” he said. “He’s here again and has just won five hundred thousand euros at the blackjack table. That win has certainly secured him an invitation to the game tonight.”

Gemma shot to her feet. “No! Emilio doesn’t have that kind of money. How could he think to take that risk?”

Stefano ruthlessly blocked her troubled image from his mind and spoke to Jean Paul. “In case you did not hear the lady, where did Cardone come by that much capital?”

“He has steadily won all day, the last round being the largest take yet.”

Enough to pay the debt to Marinetti and then some, Stefano would wager. But the gambler’s blood in Cardone lured him to increase it. To risk all. To ruin his sister?

“Has Cardone made any calls this evening?” Stefano asked.

“Not that I could tell. Although his phone did ring a while ago,” Jean Paul said. “He answered it then promptly hung up.”

Gemma’s narrow shoulders lost a bit of their stiff edge to bow in as if on the verge of collapse.

What was the American saying?
No honor among thieves
?

Her brother knew full well she’d be waiting here with Stefano. He knew the consequences if she failed to make the payment tonight.

Her brother had left her to sink or swim.

Yes, he wanted the woman with a ravenous hunger.

Yes, he would have her.

But it wouldn’t be to save her brother from ruin.

“Watch him,” Stefano said, then ended that call and assessed his dinner companion.

Gemma’s frantic gaze flicked over him. Her obvious pain was a gut punch he hadn’t expected.

She had used his father. She’d caused his mamma pain. But the satisfaction he’d expected from besting her didn’t come.

“You have less than an hour to meet the first loan payment,” he reminded her. “Will you concede defeat now?”

She shook her head and he knew before she opened her mouth that she’d voice a protest. “The least you could have done was extend the deadline until morning when the banker is scheduled to give me his answer on my loan request. Cesare would have.”

How dare she drag his papa into this argument! “I am sure you would have done your best to
persuade
Papa to let the debt ride longer. You have succeeded in draining his accounts to the extreme already!”

“I’ve done no such thing,” she shot back.

“No? Then explain why my father transferred five hundred thousand euros into a private account bearing your name? What did you do with that money, plus all the monthly withdrawals he placed in your name?”

Her face turned whiter than Carrara marble. “I can’t.”

“Or won’t,” he said. “You were given enough money to build a five-star hotel that would gross millions. There will be no extensions. No second chances.”

She shook her head and rubbed her temples. Her distress failed to stir his pity. She and her worthless brother had brought this on themselves. Now she’d suffer the consequences.

Revenge was in his grasp.

“I
HATE
you!” She tossed her napkin on the table, unwilling to sit here a moment longer with such a ruthless man.
Mio Dio
, what a nightmare!

“I could care less what you think of me, Miss Cardone.”

She wasn’t surprised for he was surely the most heartless man she’d ever had the displeasure of meeting. “Did you gain great satisfaction stripping my brother of his means to make a living?”

Stefano’s muscular frame tensed, like a large cat waking from a nap and sensing trouble. “Your brother offered the vessel in order to remain in the game. If I hadn’t paid his price, someone else would have.”

She knew he was right, but facing the awful truth was crushing. Behind her back Emilio had been living the life of a playboy even though he didn’t have the funds to squander. For how many months had he deceived them all?

Too many, she feared. She truly believed her brother had beaten his addiction over a year ago. But she’d been wrong.

She’d never dreamed he’d lie and hide the truth from her and in the process lose the business their father had worked and died for. And now because of his false promise to help her tonight, because she’d trusted her brother, she stood to lose her half of the inn!

“
Scusi
,” she said and made for the door, her mind racing to find the swiftest means to reach Monte Carlo.

“Where are you going?”

“To my brother.”

“Why? What do you hope to accomplish by going there?”

“To stop him from this gambling binge he’s on.” And if possible, claim what was due her before the dreaded deadline.

“He won’t listen to you,
bella
.”

He grabbed her arm and pulled her to him, his gaze darkly intense and pulsing with anger and vengeance and another emotion that was there and gone before she could recognize it. And then there was the power of his long, lean fingers snaked around her arm and the fire and energy arcing from him to her like a lightning storm, making her knees weak and her heart heavy.

Why did he have to be so ruthless?

He cupped her cheek in his palm and she blinked back sudden tears, for his tenderness mocked the animosity he held for her. “Even if you could reason with him, he’s in a high stakes game that plays hard and fast.”

She wasn’t sure what that meant, but she knew she could only do one thing. Honor the promise she’d made to her parents. To Nonna.

“All the more reason for me to go there now.”

She jerked from Stefano and ran from the room, hating that she drew attention to herself, hating that she didn’t know how she could stop this avalanche of doom descending on her family.

Stefano caught up to her just as she reached the main room. As before he pressed a hand to the small of her back and she came up short, as if there was an invisible thread between them that only he controlled.

“How do you intend to get there at this hour?” he asked in a deceptively low calm voice.

“I don’t know. A plane, perhaps.”

“You will end up waiting for hours. The game could be over by then.”

“Then I’ll rent a car and drive the distance.”

“Unacceptable.”

They stepped outside and he snapped his fingers, sending the attendant rushing to fetch his car.

“I suppose you have a better idea?” she asked.

A darkening scowl crossed his features, giving him that fierce gladiator mien again. At that moment she believed him capable of conquering anything. Her brother. Her. The world.

“Let your brother sink or swim. It is over,
bella
. You can’t change him and you can’t meet the deadline. Accept it.”

“I won’t stand by and do nothing.”

The tendons in his neck stood out and his dark eyes blazed with anger at her defiance. Not that she cared what he thought.

It was her family who would suffer.

But even if Stefano had any concept of family, he’d not care about the turmoil she suffered. She had to talk sense into her brother and get him help before he was in debt so deeply he’d never get out.

“I will not allow you to do this.”

Gemma gaped at Stefano. Was he serious?

“You can’t stop me.”

She knew that was the wrong thing to say when his eyes darkened to that feral black again. But he held his thoughts and she suspected that was because they were surrounded by people.

But she knew a cauldron of anger boiled within him. Anger at her brother, at her. At his father?

It was the reason why that puzzled her.

Then she recalled what had started this all. He’d mentioned the vast sum Cesare had spent the past year. Money he’d used for his daughter’s care as well as the generous gift he’d insisted she have.

Her nest egg for a better tomorrow though she’d spent it all on the inn. Her nonna had lived long enough in squalor.

Gemma wasn’t about to let her continue to do so, not when she finally had the means to make the necessary repairs. If Cesare hadn’t needed her, she would have returned to Manarolo and taken over the inn herself. It wasn’t as if she’d be usurping her sister-in-law’s duties!

But she couldn’t tell Stefano any of that, for to do so would reveal the secret she’d swore to hold for Cesare. Now seeing how little regard Stefano held for family, she didn’t dare trust him with the truth.

“You can’t meet the deadline for the loan,” he said as he escorted her to his car. “Which means I will own your half of the inn. If you hope to negotiate a means to regain the title, you would be wise to do as I tell you to do.”

Gemma’s heart stuttered, aware that domineering threat wasn’t a mere boast. But was he serious about giving her a chance to regain her half of the inn? “What are you suggesting?”

“We’ll discuss it later.” He motioned for her to get in the car, his expression carefully devoid of emotion again. “You want to go to Monte Carlo tonight, then I will take you.”

“Then neither of us will be back at work in the morning,” she said as she got in the car.

“Work can wait.”

In moments he’d slid behind the wheel and cut into traffic with the expertise of a Formula 1 driver and she realized he was dead serious.

She didn’t relish the idea of racing over the mountains in
the middle of the night with Stefano Marinetti. But she couldn’t waste another second reaching her brother, either.

“How long will it take to drive there?”

“Too long. We are taking my helicopter.”

He couldn’t be serious.

But as he turned onto the main road and sped back toward the shipyard, she knew that Stefano Marinetti wasn’t jesting.

An hour later, Stefano set down the helicopter in the executive heliport at Monte Carlo. Gemma hadn’t said a word since they’d lifted off, even though he’d fitted her with earphones.

But then he hadn’t felt obliged to strike up a conversation, either. For one thing, the night-flight had demanded all his concentration. For another he didn’t trust himself to remain impassive when the very air they breathed pulsed with tension.

Though he’d expected it, he still found it galling that she’d asked for an extension on the damned loan. “Cesare would’ve granted it,” she’d said, and he was certain she was right.

That was all the reminder he’d needed to believe that she’d appeal to his father as soon as she could. She’d get back in Cesare’s good graces and his bed.

But the possibility of her taking her position further loomed large before him, especially now that she stood to lose her shares of the inn. Marriage would cement her place in his father’s life and grant her the power to do whatever the hell she wished with what little money remained.

And considering her devotion to her brother, that money would likely find its way to Monte Carlo.

No, he couldn’t let her near his father. Instead he must make a more attractive proposition to her, and he must give her little chance to refuse.

As soon as it was safe to exit the helicopter, he hurried her
across the helipad and into the waiting limo. His blood heated from the light scent that was uniquely hers and the excitement that crackled in the air. From the fact that when this nasty business was concluded here, he and Gemma would form a new arrangement.

That she’d be his.

Flashes of lights confirmed the paparazzi were out in force, leading him to believe that more celebrities than usual were partaking of the games of chance or just visiting on the chance to be noticed partying among the ultrarich.

He’d never found this jet-set lifestyle appealing. Staying on the cutting edge of his business and promoting it to its fullest kept him on the go. Unlike a good number of his contemporaries, he preferred to celebrate his successes with a select few or in private with a beautiful woman.

Like Gemma?

He shoved that thought from his mind and concentrated on what had brought him here tonight. Gemma.

How ironic that just two weeks ago Jean Paul had goaded him to come gamble. Buying Cardone’s old trawler had made it worth his time.

And now?

The last text message he’d received from Jean Paul hinted at a repeat of the last time he’d been pitted against Cardone. Only this victory tonight would be over Gemma.

It would be all the sweeter. When she saw her brother fail this time, she’d have no choice but to accept what Stefano offered. No choice at all.

“How in the world will I find Emilio here?” Gemma asked, her voice so low he wondered if she was talking to herself.

The hand he had pressed to her spine slid to her side—all to get a better hold on her as they wended their way through
this throng. It had nothing to do with offering her comfort for the turmoil she’d face in the next hour. Nothing!

“Cardone is in the poker room engaged in a high stakes game,” he said. “He has lost the last two hands.”

“How do you know that?” she asked.

“My friend sent me a message some time ago,” he said.

She stopped and stared at him. “Did you hire your friend to gamble against Emilio?”

“No, Jean Paul is a billionaire with a talent and desire to gamble on his off time.” He didn’t bother to mention Jean Paul was a celebrated Formula 1 driver, for what was the point?

“Come. We’ll join the audience, but you must remain quiet,” he said. “Any disruption will have you removed.”

She glared at him for the longest time with nothing short of hatred. With a huff, she turned and strode down the hall, back impossibly rigid.

Fine. He would rather she hate him; he could deal with that better than coping with the desire and empathy she’d stirred to life in him earlier. If she raised a ruckus, she’d find herself hustled from the room.

It would only make the tension between them all the more stronger later when they sat down to business. Yes, they were waging their own high stakes games. But he would win.

He could make her want him. He could make her wild with desire. He would have his vengeance!

Because he intended to blackmail her into his bed
? His cheeks burned, a rarity to be sure.

But for all his shrewd business sense, he’d never mistreated a woman in his life. Never! Not even the one he’d brought home to meet his parents and who set her sights on his brother.

But that anger that always roared to life failed to come.

In its place was a new emotion. Stronger. More volatile.

This business between him and Gemma had meaning. This fired his blood.

This was archaic thinking. It was something he’d never done and never thought to do with a woman.

But he couldn’t back down. Not now. Not when the scent of her filled his senses, when the brief kiss they’d shared inflamed his desire.

“Marinetti,” he told the guard at the door.

The man nodded and stepped aside without a word.

Gemma hesitated, but Stefano’s hand to her back hurried her inside. A row of plush chairs cast in shadow faced the tables.

She eased onto a chair and stared at him with eyes that were too huge and too filled with an emotion he couldn’t grasp. The deep sense of hurt that dimmed her eyes charged the tension-filled air and raised the hair at his nape.

“Call,” said the Russian mogul playing against Cardone.

The last chips where thrust forward. The cards revealed. Cardone lost.

She looked at Stefano and asked in a whisper, “Is it over?”

He nodded in answer, and her narrow shoulders bowed. In fact her entire body seemed to cave in on itself.

Damn her brother for doing this to her. Then he damned himself for letting her get to him. For wanting to take her in his arms and comfort her.

“All players must purchase the required chips before the start of the next game.”

Cardone pushed from the table and stalked to the bank, a trip he’d undoubtedly made countless times. “I have title to property. Will you take that as surety for a stake in the next game?”

“Yes, if you have it with you.”

“What is he doing?” Gemma said, her tension so acute Stefano felt it abrading his nerves.

Cardone produced a document and handed it to the bank. “The inn on Manarolo is in good condition and makes a modest profit.”

The bank took the paper. “One moment to verify this, sir.”

“No! He doesn’t own the inn.” She rushed to her brother, drawing all eyes to her.

Stefano followed on her heels, wanting to believe that Gemma had lied all along about the ownership of the inn. But her reaction was too genuine to be staged.

She was shocked by her brother’s actions to the point of hysteria.

Cardone whirled on her then, eyes widening with surprise before narrowing in anger. “What are you doing here?”

“Stopping you from making a mistake,” she said. “How did you get Nonna’s shares of the inn?”

Her brother let out a smug laugh. “Nonna is already heart-broken that you lost your half of the inn to Marinetti.”

“You told her about that?” she asked, her voice dropping to a choked whisper.

“Of course. She signed over her half of the inn to me, the family who has stayed by her side this past year.”

“The family who is about to gamble away our heritage!” She clasped trembling hands over her mouth and stared at her brother as if he were a stranger. “What are you thinking? The inn is your home. It’s our family’s livelihood. You live there. Your wife works with Nonna and affords you a modest income off the guests.”