Innocent in the Italian's Possession(10)

And where was the taste of vengeance in that? There would be none.

No, he would not let her off easy. He had to hurt her as she'd hurt his family. The inn seemed to be the key.

The inn that she'd elaborately redesigned with his papa's money!

But even that wasn't enough.

No, he wanted to publicly humiliate her. He wanted all to see her for what she was-a scheming wanton.                       
       
           



       

Then maybe he'd feel vindicated. Then his mamma's honor would be appeased.

Yes, he'd retain her as his secretary, even if it meant generously  extending his own secretary's vacation. From there it should be a simple  thing to give the impression that Gemma was much more than an employee.

All he had to do was be less circumspect in his dealings with Gemma and  more attentive to her. He had to tamp down his anger and openly flirt  with her.

The gossips would do the rest, creating a romance and thereby diverting  attention away from his parents' scandal. If she began to believe she  was charming him, then all the better.

Watching her hopes rise and then plummet would be a far more satisfying revenge.

"A friend of mine owns a boutique in Pisa," he said as he sped down the  coastal autostrada. "I am sure you will find a cocktail dress there."

"I see no reason to buy something new when I have perfectly suitable  clothes in my flat," she said, her chin lifted in challenge.

Designer clothes that his papa had purchased, or more of the same demure  garments like she wore now? Since nobody claimed to have seen his papa  and her out on the town, he suspected she hadn't been treated that  lavishly.

And of course since she shunned the trappings of a mistress, the liaison had continued with nobody the wiser. Sly. Very sly.

"Consider the dress a gift for your dedication to my father and  Marinetti Shipping," he said, forcing a warm smile that he didn't feel.

She didn't voice a protest, but the pinched look on her face said she didn't like this at all.

Stefano's smile deepened. When he was through with her, everyone would know she was his paid paramour.



Gemma stared at herself in the dressing room mirror, trying without  success to block Stefano's rich laugh as he chatted with the designer  and flirted with any female who ventured near. She'd looked out earlier  to find him lounging in a chair with a glass of wine dangling from his  long tanned fingers.

Every move he made was fluid, like a maestro conducting an orchestra.  The silent music was a sensual caress that left her skin tingling. Left  her restive yet compelled her to sway to the rhythm pounding in her  blood.

His aura was so powerful to her senses that she had to literally tear her gaze from him to break the spell.

Mio Dio! How could she find such a callous man attractive?

It vexed her that Stefano had given everyone here the impression they  were an item. Protesting would have only drawn more attention to her and  the arrogant billionaire, so she closeted herself in the dressing room  to try on the selection of dresses that Stefano had chosen.

He'd laughed and said it wasn't necessary to test the fit. And he had been annoyingly right!

The teal cocktail dress fit her to perfection. The color emphasized the  blue-green of her eyes and complemented her fair complexion that she'd  inherited from her English mother.

The plunging neckline gave more than a teasing peek of the deep valley  between her bosom. It also exposed the dainty necklace that her papa had  given her.

A sad smile tugged at her mouth as she ran a finger over the pendant  suspended on a fine gold chain. How long had he saved to buy the  aquamarine surrounded by tiny diamonds? Months? Perhaps a year?

Her fingers tightened around the necklace. It looked insignificant  paired with this dress that cost more than two months' wages. But then  Stefano's friend was Vanni-a new yet much desired designer!

"Ah, I see you do have jewelry," Stefano said from the doorway of her  dressing room, startling her by his boldness. "I hadn't noticed  earlier."

"How dare you barge in here!"

His sculpted lips curved into a devilish smile. "You will find I dare many things."

She dreaded to imagine what else he had in store for her.

"The dress fits you to perfection," he said.

She refused to warm to the compliment. "I don't wear daring necklines."

"You should," he said. "It is a shame to cover such beauty."

"Such flattery," she said, trying to sound glib though she trembled  inside with anger and that damning sensual pull. "I'm sure you flirt  outrageously with every woman you meet."

"Sì, but I only compliment the ones who justly deserve it."

She couldn't think of a thing to say to that remark so she just affected  a calm she didn't feel and smiled up at him. Meeting his gaze head-on  was a mistake.

His dark eyes glittered with amusement and passion, and the firm line of  his mouth curved into a disarming smile, transforming him from the hard  resolute man into a devilish charmer. Her knees went weak and her  insides trembled in an erotic hum of desire.                       
       
           



       

He reached out and stroked a finger down her cheek, and the control  she'd fought to maintain shattered into a billion shards of new  sensations. "You are beautiful, mio caro."

She reached behind her and grasped the dressing room curtain to steady  herself when every fiber in her body ached to reach out to him. What was  happening to her?

Yes, he was devastatingly attractive, but she hated what he stood for.  She hated the power he wielded over her. She hated him for storming into  her peaceful, quiet life and turning it into a maelstrom of emotions in  just one day.

"Thank you, but I'd like to try on something else." Something less  revealing. Something that wouldn't make her feel sophisticated and  desirable.

"There is no time. Come."

She bit her lip, torn between protesting or going meekly along as a lamb  to the slaughter. "I refuse to leave here in this dress."

"Very well, but make it a short moment." He backed from the dressing  room, but the spice of his cologne remained to tease her senses.

Gemma drew in a shaky breath and then another, angry and aroused and confused in turn. She felt vulnerable. Alone.

Silly emotions to feel since they'd be surrounded by other people in the  restaurant. It wouldn't be long and her brother would join them and  she'd meet Stefano's first payment.

And if Emilio didn't show up?

She refused to think that as she donned her sensible clothes and left the dressing room with the new dress hanging on the hook.

Stefano was waiting for her, but instead of hurrying her out the door,  he waited until the assistant hurried forward with his purchase  carefully covered in an opaque garment bag.

She certainly didn't want him buying anything for her. This dress far  exceeded any bonus she'd earned from her job and was far too revealing  to wear to work. And what was he thinking anyway by buying her clothes  when she was already indebted to him?

"You should have foregone this bit of shopping," she said as Stefano  escorted her to the sleek silver car that had attracted a small crowd.  "The delay will make you late for your business meeting."

"It's nothing that can't be made up in driving time," he said as he  helped her into the butter-soft leather passenger seat and then quickly  slid behind the wheel.

The thought of racing to their destination sent alarm zinging along her  nerves. But as the car sped along the highway, she found herself  enjoying the view of the islands strung into the Ligurian Sea like  emeralds floating on the foam-edged blue waters.

She supposed to any passerby they looked like a couple out enjoying the evening. But that was just an illusion.

There was nothing casual about her being with Stefano tonight. This was  pure business. The question was where would the night end? With her free  of his hold, or more firmly caught in his grasp?

She instinctively lifted a hand to her neck, a gesture that had become  habit when she was anxious. But toying with the necklace would only draw  attention to her nervousness and Stefano would surely use that to his  advantage.

Her hand fluttered back to her lap. "Did you say your company offices are in Livorno?"

"The offices and the shipyard," he said. "The hull on Canto Di Mare's  new thirty-five meter yacht is finished and waiting for my approval."

"Another hulking superyacht to crowd the Mediterranean?"

He laughed, a rich baritone that had the power to soothe her tense  nerves. "I see you have adopted my father's view on big pleasure ships."

"We held much the same beliefs," she admitted.

"Such as?"

"More of the wealthy should put their money to better use than on sating  their own selfish pleasures." She glanced his way and noted the  tightening of his artfully sculpted lips and narrowing of his  mesmerizing eyes. "Or on the proliferation of unnecessary diversions."