Innocent in the Italian's Possession (9 page)

“Peasant wages,” Cardone spat. “I want more for my family and myself.” He flicked a damning glower at Stefano. “I want the kind of life your rich boss enjoys.”

“Then work for it!”

“Trust me in this,
mio serella
,” Cardone said to Gemma,
the endearment sounding false to Stefano’s ears. “When I win this pot you’ll never have to bow and scrape for a
milionario
again,” he said, inclining his head Stefano’s way. “You would be independently wealthy.”

“You can’t risk our home,” she said, and Stefano realized the source of her fear.

He owned her shares now, and if her brother sold his, then their family would be cast out on the street. The inn that had been handed down from generation to generation would be lost.

Cardone grasped Gemma’s upper arms and drew her close. Her startled gasp touched something inside Stefano, something that smacked of jealousy. Something that spurred him to protect her any way he could.

He just barely stayed the urge to shove Cardone aside and take Gemma into
his
arms. Just barely. And that admission enraged him for he had just proven he was no better than his father around her.

“Your home,” Cardone repeated, the biting sarcasm in his voice hushing those in the room again. “You would do anything to hold on to that crumbling pile of stones, even sell yourself to an old man.”

“Apologize to the lady,” Stefano said, barely restraining himself from physically hauling Cardone outside and laying into him.

Never mind he had accused Gemma of the same thing. He had not voiced such crudities in public.

“Defending her?” Cardone asked, setting his sister aside.

“In this attack?
Sì
.”

Which made no sense because Stefano had wanted to publicly humiliate her. He’d wanted to ruin her and recover as much of his father’s property and money as he could.

Cardone sneered at Gemma. “You go from doting on one Marinetti to the other and turn your back on your brother.”

“You don’t want my help. You just want what money I can spare so you can toss it away on the turn of a card.”

She turned to Stefano but didn’t look him in the eyes, seeming shamed and weary and oh so vulnerable. “Please, take me away from here. I can’t bear to watch anymore.”

This was his chance to walk away and complete her humiliation. This was the time to put her in her place once and for all and defend his family’s honor.

Honor.

To an Italian, honor was everything. But the timing felt wrong. This wasn’t the place or time.

“The title is verified,” the bank said to Cardone.

“Take her away from here,” Cardone said, then turned to accept the casino’s offer.

Nobody noticed Gemma’s distress and obvious depression. Nobody but Stefano.

“I’ll give you five hundred thousand euros for the title,” Stefano said, doing this for himself for he had no desire to have a stranger as his partner.

It had nothing to do with Gemma’s crushing defeat. Nothing to do with revenge. He did not want to feel anything for this woman but disgust. She’d all but stolen from his father, yet she portrayed the injured party so well now that he almost sympathized with her.

Cardone smirked and snatched the title from the bank. “I accept your offer, Marinetti.”

“Think of what this will do to Nonna,” Gemma said, her voice rough with emotion now.

But Cardone merely shrugged. “Perhaps the new owner will allow her to stay on there, if given the proper incentives.”

And again Stefano wanted to throttle the man for his crude innuendoes hurled at Gemma in public. It went without saying that the old woman could live out her days in her home. But he refused to comment now.

Far too much had been said already.

A quiet hum resumed in the room with gamblers taking their places for the next game. He caught the questioning look in his friend’s eye, but didn’t attempt to engage in conversation.

This wasn’t the time.

He wanted out of here before he truly did lose his temper with Cardone. Just one more insult to Gemma was all it would take, and wasn’t that a thorn for Stefano to contend with?

The transaction went swiftly with Cardone signing his name with a flourish and Gemma standing stiff and solemn beside Stefano.

He tucked the title in his suit pocket then pressed a hand to her back. “It is time to leave,
bella
.”

She simply nodded and walked out with her head high.

He caught himself admiring her pride in the face of such adversity.

It was over. He owned the inn now.

But he felt no victory. Not yet.

He controlled what she wanted most. The inn. The question was what would she agree to do to gain back the title.

S
HE
shouldn’t have left Monte Carlo with Stefano. She should’ve taken the train back home.

Home.

She didn’t have a home any longer, just a flat in Viareggio. She’d let her nonna down in the worst possible way.

What would happen next?

Gemma had to ask Stefano about his plans for the inn. For if he intended to sell it, there was the slim chance she could still secure a loan from the bank.

It was a slim thread to hang onto as she sat beside him in the helicopter, the lights of the casino fading as they flew out over the Ligurian Sea that lay black and fathomless at night. If only that emotionally draining scene with Emilio in the poker room would diminish as well.

But it didn’t. It remained clear and garish.

She’d failed to help her brother. In fact she didn’t know how to reach him anymore. She didn’t know if she had the heart to try, and that only heaped more guilt on her already tired shoulders.

Emilio knew exactly what she’d done to get the money to refurbish the inn, yet he twisted the truth into something ugly.
He insinuated that she had been Cesare’s mistress and that she was now Stefano’s lover.

She hadn’t even had the heart to deny it for what good would it have done? Stefano hadn’t said anything in his defense, either, just stared at her with those dark, smoldering eyes like he had right before he’d kissed her.

Mio Dio
, even hours later she could still taste him on her tongue. Still feel the steely strength in the arms that had held her close. Still remember the evidence of his desire against her belly.

Oh, yes, they had given the gossips plenty of fodder to feed on this night. She just hoped news of it wouldn’t reach Cesare soon.

The day for his open-heart surgery had arrived. The last thing he needed was the stress caused by these vicious lies.

Stress.

Her life was a total disaster now. She’d never felt this adrift. This separated from everything she’d known and loved and trusted.

She wanted to know what Stefano’s plans were for the inn. But even with the headphones, the roar of the blades dissuaded conversation.

So she held her thoughts and fears to herself and settled in for the long ride back to Viareggio. That thought had barely crossed her mind when she spotted the lights of a big ship dead ahead. The helicopter circled it once and then began descending.

Her mind ran away with dire reasons why Stefano would set down in the middle of the sea. And wasn’t this dangerous to attempt at night?

Never mind he was landing on a small cruise ship. He was doing so nearly blind at night.

Before she could work herself into a full-blown panic, he’d
landed the helicopter. Her heart stopped its frantic pounding so she could hear him speaking to someone over his radio.

She immediately thought of Cesare. “Is something wrong?” she asked before they both removed their headphones.

“It is late and I didn’t wish to fly back to Viareggio tonight when my yacht was so close by.”

She stared out on the deck of the large ship. “This huge boat is yours?”

He slid her a devilish grin that had her seeing him as a desirable man instead of the man who’d just gained control of all she held dear. A very handsome man with an odd glint in his eyes that roused her suspicions.

If he thought she’d tumble into bed with him now, he was sorely mistaken. There had to be plenty of rooms on board. Hopefully there was one far from his domain.

“This is the starship of my new fleet,” he said with pride ringing clear in his tone. “I can work from here as easily as I can on land.”

“Have you done that often?” she said in an attempt to make idle conversation.

“Many times of late. Come.”

He stepped from the helicopter and rounded it to assist her down. An odd thing to do since there were plenty of men who had jumped to attend to the helicopter and its billionaire pilot.

A refreshing breeze greeted her as she crossed the deck with her hand tightly clasped in Stefano’s. Possessive. Sensual.

The last sensation thrummed her nerves in an erotic melody she couldn’t deny. She didn’t want to feel anything toward him but animosity.

Though she was helpless to stop the swift stab of desire, hell would surely freeze over before she acted upon it. With
that thought in mind, she was able to draw a decent breath as he led her belowdecks.

If Gemma didn’t know better, she’d swear she’d just entered a sunken palace. Marble floors and pillars, plush Brussels carpets that her feet sank into, crystal light fixtures that caught the light and reflected it back in a rich rainbow of color.

Servants rushed to attend to Stefano’s needs but he waved them off. “I need nothing more tonight,” he said as he tugged Gemma down a hall and into a large suite.

“It’s gorgeous,” she said as she took in the massive stateroom.

The lighting was subdued. The furnishing modern yet masculinely opulent.

“This is the salon where we meet clients.” He crossed to a bar. “May I get you something?”

This was one of those occasions when she needed alcohol.

“Chianti, please.”

Stefano obliged and handed her a glass. “I imagine you are close to exhaustion.”

“It’s been an extremely taxing day.”

He nodded agreement. “But there is one more bit of business I wish to discuss now.”

The inn. She was sure of it.

He had her where he could punish and torment her and they both knew it. It was a matter of how much blood he wanted from her for not confiding in her personal affairs.

She drank her wine too fast and felt a wave of dizziness engulf her. “Very well,” she said in her most businesslike tone. “What is it that is so urgent?”

“I gather the inn means a great deal to you.”

“More than it could possibly mean to you. I want the opportunity to buy it back,” she said, her chin lifting for the argument she was sure would come.

“Fine,” he said so quickly she nearly reeled. “I have no wish to delve into the hotel business at any level.”

“Then why did you buy Emilio’s shares?” she asked.

He poured an equal amount of wine in his glass and took a sip. “Because I didn’t want a third party to have any say over my plans for the inn.”

His answer left her more confused than before. “You just said you had no wish to manage an inn.”

“I don’t. But I didn’t want to divide the shares, either.”

A fact she appreciated even though it forced her to appeal to him solely now. “Then do you agree to sell the inn to me?”

His firm lips curved into that wicked smile again. “Selling is a lengthy process I’d prefer avoiding.”

“I planned to get a loan—”

He raised a hand and she fell silent. “I don’t want money,
bella
. I want you.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, though she feared she knew where this was leading.

“I want you to be my mistress.”

She set the glass down though she was tempted to hurl it at his hard head. “I won’t prostitute myself for you or anyone.”

One devilishly dark eyebrow lifted in mock questioning. “Not even for sole ownership of your inn on Manarolo?”

Damn him! “I can get a loan and pay you—”

“Don’t bother,” he said. “You will not work for Marinetti beyond another month.”

“You’re firing me?”

He shrugged. “I am extending you one offer,
bella
. In addition to your duties as my personal secretary, I want you to be my mistress for one month.”

“You’re vile.”

“Think what you like. In exchange for your companion
ship for one month, I’ll give you the title to the inn on Manarolo free and clear.”

She hadn’t thought she could hate him more than she did at this second, but a fury like she’d never felt before surged through her. She wanted to pummel his chest, kick him. She wanted to walk out of his life and never look back.

But he had her in a vulnerable position.

Unless she was willing to break her promise to Cesare, or see her inn sold to a stranger and her nonna displaced, she had no choice but to agree to Stefano’s outrageous demands. The fact that her body did respond to the power and erotic pulse of his was moot—and if she told herself that enough, just maybe she’d believe it.

The cold fact remained that he was dangling the prize before her eyes. All she had to do to gain her heart’s desire was be his mistress.

She wouldn’t have to like it. She just had to lay there and suffer his touch for a month.

As if his touch would bring her anything but pleasure the likes she’d never known before
!

“I want it in writing,” she said, disgusted her voice trembled. “I won’t sleep with you until then.”

A muscle tensed in his lean cheek and she braced herself for an argument. “Agreed. It is after all a solid business proposition.”

It was a personal proposition to settle a vendetta, to bend her to his will because he simply could. Because he believed she had been his father’s mistress first and had bled Cesare of his fortune. What would happen when the truth did come out?

Truths, she amended.

She’d never been with a man before, and he was sure to realize that. How long could she put him off?

Not long, she feared. What in the world would she tell him then regarding the jaunts to Milan?

He set his glass down and strode toward her, nudging her chin up with a finger that sent a new wave of awareness crashing through her. She hated that her body responded so readily to him.

“You look dead on your feet. Come, let me show you to your stateroom.” He guided her across the salon with a hand to her back, a hand that left her burning hot as if he’d left his brand on her skin.

She broke contact with him as soon as she walked into the suite. But the effort drained her and the soft lighting, the quiet, all tempted her to curl up on the first sofa she came to and sleep.

But before she did, she had to appease the final thing that would rob her of rest. “Have you spoken with your father?”

His shoulders snapped taut for a moment, as if her query had been a stinging lash. “I talked with his nurse earlier. He’s resting and his surgery is scheduled for tomorrow.”

“I gather you’ve instructed your crew to travel through the night,” she said.

“They have their orders.”

He pushed through double doors into a large bedroom that was dominated by a sumptuous bed. “The rooms are well stocked for impromptu visits. I trust you will find everything you need.”

Did he entertain off-the-cuff often? Or was he speaking of his feminine conquests and the provisions he kept on hand for them?

Jealousy slammed into her, blocking everything but the fact that she couldn’t bear to envision Stefano with anyone else. He was the last man she dreamed of making love with, and yet the only man who had invaded her dreams with lusty temptations and promises of forbidden pleasure.

Would reality prove half as wonderful?

“I’m sure I’ll manage,” she said, too weary to drum up genuine annoyance at him at this point.

What’s done was done.

“If you require anything, my suite is right across the salon,” he said, seeming in no hurry to leave her quarters.

His tie hung loose around the strong column of his neck. He’d unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a teasing glimpse of his sculpted chest dusted with black hair.

The contrast between stark white shirt and deeply tanned olive skin fascinated her. She’d spent her life around fishermen whose skin had baked a dark brown working in the sun. Her papa had had skin like leather.

Not so for Stefano. His skin looked smooth and soft, stretching taut over hard, unyielding muscles. Soon she’d know what he looked like without clothes. She’d feel that strong hard body moving on hers.

She clasped her hands together to still their trembling. And instantly noticed something very wrong.

“No!” She stared at her ring finger. Her
bare
ring finger.

“
Bella
, what troubles you?” he asked, his voice a rich baritone that stroked over her skin and left her trembling.

“My ring,” she said, and quickly described the marquise cut aquamarine flanked by two tiny diamonds that matched her necklace. “I’ve lost it somewhere.”

“I’ll have the servants search the boat and helicopter for it,” he said “
D’accordo
?”

She nodded, even though it was not okay. Her papa had given her that ring when she’d gotten her degree. Losing it was like losing her papa all over again.

She hugged her waist when she ached for someone to hold her. No, not someone. Stefano.

She’d lost too much. Her parents. The inn. And now Cesare’s life hung in the balance.

“I would like to accompany you to the hospital tomorrow,” she said, desperately needing to see the older man.

Again that abrupt tightening of his shoulders and back. “The doctors have stressed he is not to think of work.”

“I won’t mention the shipyard except to say all is fine,” she promised, not about to be dismissed so easily. “Please. I am worried about Cesare and will be a nervous wreck waiting at the office for news.”

“Of course.” His smile was tight, and a hardened glint sparked his eyes now. Anger?

Yes, he was likely annoyed that she’d insisted on coming to the hospital. He must know he couldn’t stop her, that her being there was simply a show of support.

She was first and foremost Cesare’s personal secretary! This unsavory agreement she made with Stefano fell below that—as he’d said, it was simply business.

“Sleep,” he said. “I can promise you that you won’t get much rest tomorrow night.”

And with that predictive remark he was gone.

She stared at the closed door a long moment, but the subdued light and luxurious bed called to her. He was right. She needed rest.

Gemma found a silk gown in the bureau, one of a dozen that still had tags on them. A good deal of her pique drained away knowing she wouldn’t be wearing his lover’s castoffs.

Yes, morning would come far too soon, she thought as she crawled into bed and doused the light. She sank into the down topper and sighed.