Innocent in the Italian's Possession(2)

She hated this electric attraction to him, yet she was drawn to him all the same. It was maddening. Humiliating. Addictive.

Her heart rate trebled from the realization she'd have to work for this  playboy until Cesare returned. She couldn't do it. But she couldn't not  do it, either.

Her promise to Cesare echoed in her mind, but it was the memory of the  gamine face of the little girl smiling up at her from her hospital bed  that gave Gemma the strength to meet Stefano's stare dead-on.

His presence dominated the room so completely she couldn't have looked  away again if she'd tried. She'd heard of imposing forces before, but  she'd never been faced with one until now.                       
       
           



       

The tabloids had been right. His classic good looks rivaled the Roman gods. Contemplative. Intense. Sexy.

And impatient.

That was the unsettling energy she'd sensed before. This man was used to  giving orders and having them obeyed immediately without question.

She could easily picture him as a Roman gladiator brazenly vanquishing  his rivals. Or as a god lounging by a pool with a bevy of maidens at his  beck and call.

Yes, his raw masculine beauty paled in comparison to the carnal energy  that emanated from him. He was a businessman who oozed sensual charisma  and he knew it. He flaunted it. He used it to his advantage, just as he  was doing now to throw her totally off track.

Stefano was a dangerous predator here for one reason-to usurp Cesare. She'd do well to bear that in mind.

She forced a welcoming smile and struggled for a neutral tone.  "Buongiorno, Signor Marinetti. May I personally extend my condolences on  your mother's untimely passing."

He gave an impatient nod and scanned her office as if looking for something. "Where is Donna?"

"She retired nearly a year ago."

His brows snapped together and the sculpted bow to his sensual mouth thinned. "When were you hired?"

"Nearly a year ago."

"Interesting." He treated her to another exacting perusal that left her  flushed and feeling vulnerable and inadequate, which shouldn't surprise  her for she certainly wasn't the type who'd appeal to this arrogant  jet-setter. "You are?"

"Gemma Cardone."

One devilishly black brow arched in a universally silent order that she expound on her role here.

She kept her smile in place and counted to twenty before appeasing his curiosity. "I am Cesare's personal secretary."

No emotion showed on his classically handsome face, but the expansive  line of his shoulders snapped taut. "Are you in the habit of coming to  work this early?"

"No," she said honestly, for she was certain he'd discern a lie if she attempted to voice one now.

He was simply too observant as well as overwhelming to her senses. She'd  sensed his dominance-no, his arrogance-at his mother's funeral.

He'd seemed emotionless then. No, that wasn't true. He'd seemed angry,  like Etna rumbling deep and threatening to spew and destroy all.

She'd never been more aware of a man as she'd been then. She'd thought  it a fluke until he'd walked through the door now and took command of  the relaxed offices.

He was staring at her with eyes that were hard and nearly impossible to  tear her gaze from. But she sensed his silent command for her to finish  her thought. His impatient command.

Stefano Marinetti was dangerous.

It took every ounce of fortitude she could summon forth to hold her  serene smile when she felt anything but composed. "I knew there would be  a surfeit of correspondence to address in regard to Cesare's heart  attack and tragic loss."

He gave a curt nod as if accepting her excuse. "That is good that you've  taken the initiative in this delicate and most tragic matter."

She wouldn't lie about this. "Actually Cesare asked me to draft letters to his close friends and longtime business associates."

"Cesare phoned you, then?" he asked, his voice as casual as if they were discussing the weather.

Even if she was good at weaving tales, it was too late to lie now. "Last night."

"He is on strict bed rest."

"It was a brief call," she said, absently twirling the ring on her  finger then stopping when the action drew his attention. Did anything  slip past him? "We talked no more than a few minutes."

"Did my father tell you to report to him daily?" he said, and this time there was no mistaking the steel ringing in his voice.

"No," she said, and then certain he'd not believe the truth, asked with  as much cheek as she could inflect in her tone, "Should I?"

A ghost of a smile teased those masculine lips that undoubtedly knew how  to kiss a woman senseless. "Does my father call you Gemma or Ms.  Cardone?"

"Cesare prefers an informal working environment." Something Stefano  would know if he hadn't turned his back on his papa and the business  years ago.

His features looked carved from stone, leaving her to guess he didn't  like the fact that she and his papa were on a first name basis. Fine,  she was here to do all she could to help Cesare, not to please Stefano  Marinetti.

Anger streaked through her as she thought of how much Cesare had needed  help over the past nine months. If he'd only called on his son then. And  what of Stefano? How much heartache could have been avoided if he'd  been an attentive son?                       
       
           



       

Was he even aware of the financial troubles plaguing Marinetti Shipyard?  Surely he'd heard the rumors. He should have contacted his papa then.  He, with his boasted billions, should have offered to help his father.

But no, he'd waited until Cesare was grieving and in ill health before slithering back.

For Cesare's sake, she'd count the days until Stefano took his leave.  But heavens, she suspected it would be a struggle to keep her temper and  her dignity around this spoiled, arrogant man.

"Very well, Gemma," he said, her name rolling off his tongue like a  caress that was so inappropriate she blushed. "As my father and I agree  on this, we will continue to operate on an informal basis. Alert the  department managers that I expect them in my office at two o'clock for a  company meeting."

"Today?"

"Yes. Is that a problem?"

"Not at all."

Stefano walked into the office and closed the door behind him with a  firm click that signaled he wished privacy until then. Fine! She wanted  the same.

She desperately needed it after the rush to remove Cesare's documents followed by her first meeting with Stefano.

She dropped onto her chair, shaken and angry and so relieved that she'd have a moment's peace. But how long would it last?

Too long!

He was a handsome, virile man. A handsome, virile, arrogant man who was  taking over and placing her in a very precarious position.

That's what she needed to concentrate on. His unreasonable demands. And  the fact that his father hadn't trusted him with his deepest secret.

Oh, Cesare! She'd do anything for him. She'd done it already. But she'd do more.

Her unwanted attraction to Stefano had temporarily blind-sided her.  Nothing more. She'd be better prepared the next time she was in his  company.

"Scusi, Gemma," he said, startling her with his nearness which came far too soon for her liking. "A moment, please."

Never mind that her name rolled off his tongue like an endearment and  feathered sensual awareness up her bare arms. So much for her vow to  remain unaffected by him.

She forced a calm demeanor she surely didn't feel. "What do you need?"

A smile teased his mouth which was at odds with the hot look he cast  her. "Would you help me make coffee? I can never do it right."

And he thought she could? She bit back that question and the sarcastic tone that begged to be loosed. "If you wish."

"Grazie."

She rose and smoothed down her skirt which had the annoying habit of  creeping up her thighs. His heated gaze watched her every movement and  she damned the warmth flooding her face as much as she damned the fact  he had a knack for keeping her on edge. Purposely, she would bet!

Make his coffee indeed, she thought as she went about the simple task.  Yes, she always prepared a pot for Cesare. She would do the same for his  infuriating son from now on-before he arrived at the office.

"How do you take it?" she asked.

"Ristretto."

She wasn't surprised he preferred his strong and black. But she hadn't  expected his attentiveness to her every move. It was unnerving in the  extreme.

"You make it look so easy," he said when she had the coffee on and the rich aroma began filling the room.

She glanced up at him and was instantly ensnared by the hot promise in his eyes. Good grief, was he flirting with her?

Of course he was. All Italian men flirted, and Stefano was reputed to be  an outrageous flirt. She'd just not had the opportunity to witness it  before now.