Innocent in the Italian's Possession(8)

She grabbed the chance alone to ring her brother again. But like before,  Emilio didn't answer then or any of the times she tried during the next  four hours while Marinetti managers and assistants took their  individual meetings with Stefano.

Frustration nipped along her nerves as she tried to contact her brother  one last time. If she couldn't reach him and secure the money for that  first installment, she'd lose the inn!

Just when she feared all was lost, Emilio answered with his typically effervescent, "Ciao!"

Relief that she'd finally caught him left her trembling and she got a  two-handed grip on the phone. "I've been trying all afternoon to reach  you. Were you out to sea?"

A long pause pulsed over the line. "Sì, I was out. Is something wrong?"

She nearly laughed, for the list was too long to go into, even if she was so inclined. Less was more, she told herself.

"How has business been?"

Emilio cursed, but it was the vehemence in his voice more than the words  that gave her new cause for worry. "I have had bad luck. You know how  it is."

She did know, for there had been times when their papa had barely  managed to put food on their table due to a poor day's catch. It had  been worse after their mamma died and their papa had seemed so alone and  adrift.

"Yes, I haven't forgotten," she said, and screwed up her courage to do  the thing she'd never done. "Emilio, I have a loan that is due and I  can't pay it. I need your help in this, and I will repay you in full in a  month. Maybe less."

And she would somehow, even though she'd supported her brother and his  wife while he struggled to pick up the reins of their father's fishing  business. She'd never asked for recompense. Never. Surely her brother  would help her now.

"When is your loan due?" he asked.

"Tonight," she said. "Can you manage it?"

Again, another long, uncomfortable pause that did nothing to ease Gemma's doubts.

"Sì. I'll bring you the cash, but it may be late," Emilio said. "Okay?"

"Yes, fine. The deadline is midnight." She bit her lip, debating where  to meet her brother for the exchange. There was really only one option.  "I'm dining with Stefano at Gervasio at ten. If you can't make it by  eleven, please call."

"I'll meet you there around that time," he said just as bells sounded in  the background-bells that she associated with casino jackpots going  off.

"Emilio, are you gambling again?" she asked, gripping the phone like a lifeline, but he'd already hung up.

Worry seeped into her bones like a cold mist rolling in off a winter  sea. Were those casino bells? Had her brother reverted to the vice that  had nearly destroyed him before?

No, she must be mistaken. He'd been fishing. Perhaps what she'd heard  were the chime of bells on nearby ships. Yes, that had to be it.

All would be well. Emilio would lend her the money for the first loan,  and she'd secure the rest from the banker. Perhaps once Cesare recovered  from surgery he could lift this burden from her. And if he didn't  recover?

A chill swept through her blood and left her trembling. She had promised  Cesare that she'd hold his secret and she would. She'd promised she'd  take care of his daughter while he was unable to. But she hadn't thought  she'd have to come up with the money that Cesare had used for his  daughter's care each month!

It was a staggering sum, simply because Cesare insisted on the finest  for Rachel. And Gemma couldn't deny her, either. The child had been  through so much pain in her short life.

If only Stefano put family first like his father did. But he'd been in  charge less than a day and had already changed many things. She'd heard  the department heads grumbling to themselves as they left his office.

No, she had no choice but to shoulder this alone.

"Did you take lunch?" Stefano asked.

She nearly jumped out of her skin to discover he stood right behind her.  Realizing he was that close had her whole system going haywire again.                       
       
           



       

"No," she said, tidying her already neat desk to keep her hands busy. "The time got away from me."

He said nothing for the longest time, just stood behind her chair. She  was intimately aware of each breath he took. Of the spicy scent that was  subtle yet powerful all the same.

"Come and take a letter," he said, laying a hand on the back of her chair and just barely grazing her spine with his thumb.

That's all it took for a bolt of energy to hum through her and send her  senses reeling again. She lurched to her feet and out of his reach, not  caring if her aversion to him was obvious.

His hot gaze snared her for a moment and she flushed at the amusement  dancing in those dark, fathomless eyes. My God, nothing got past this  man. Nothing!

She grabbed her notepad and marched into his office, eager to take her  dictation or notes and get the hell out of here when she was keenly  aware of him as a man. And how could she be anything but?

He'd removed his jacket at some point and rolled up the sleeves on his  crisp white shirt. She didn't want to notice that his forearms were  muscled and generously sprinkled with black hair. She certainly didn't  wish to appreciate the male power and beauty of his physique, but it was  impossible not to.

She damned her gaze for returning to-no, for lingering on-the wedge of  hair visible at the open V of his shirt. Was his chest hair soft? The  muscles firm? The deep olive skin hot and smooth?

Again, she was reminded of the hard-muscled gods. Stefano could  certainly have been a noble model. And when he chose to turn on the  charm, he simply took her breath away.

How in the world was she going to work with this man when being close to  him turned her into a weak-kneed ninny? She couldn't. But she couldn't  afford to quit her job and search for another, either, not when she'd  have a sizable debt hanging over her.

It was an untenable situation.

He was masculinely beautiful. Sexy as hell. But he was also domineering.  Arrogant. And a man she dared not trust with Cesare's deepest secret.

She hurried toward the desk only to find it laden with files. Clearly  Stefano was going over every asset of Marinetti with a fine-tooth comb.

What had he said to the supervisors, managers and assistants today? She  could only guess that those who'd left with smiles on their faces were  assured of their position here. The others who'd scurried out with grim  faces? She dreaded to imagine what had been said regarding their future  with Marinetti.

"My apologies that so little food is left," he said, successfully coming  up behind her and trapping her between his desk and the chair.

With the day she'd had coupled with his commanding nearness her stomach  was in knots. She couldn't have tolerated the bruschetta, salamis,  olives and cheeses anyway.

"That's okay. A few grapes will suffice for now."

She reached for a red grape, but he was quicker. And much, much too close.

Move, her mind screamed. But her legs refused to obey.

Frustrated, she shot him a sharp look and that was her undoing. His gaze  captured hers and her mouth went dry at the naked desire blazing in his  dark eyes. No man had ever looked at her like this. Ever.

It was decadent. It was shocking. It was oh, so tempting.

Heat radiated off his big body while his spicy scent ribboned around  her, as if to bind her to him. Her other senses exploded with sensual  awareness and a want so keen she physically ached.

She'd never experienced anything like it. She certainly didn't want to feel it now, toward him of all people.

"Allow me the pleasure, bella."

"No, really, I'm not-"

He brushed a grape over her lips, slowly, sensuously. Her protest withered in her throat.

Her body tingled and pulsed with a need so powerful she feared her legs  would fail her. She wanted to reach for him. To lean on him. To fall  into the promise in his darkly mesmerising eyes and forget the world.

Part of her mind that wasn't numbed by lust warned her that she was  treading on dangerous ground. Yet she parted her lips and took the ripe  fruit from his fingers anyway, unable not to do so.

"Succulent, hmm?" he asked, his thumb grazing her lower lip again and  again, then sliding to her chin as his eyes danced with wicked lust and  amusement.

She managed a weak nod as sizzling sensations exploded in her mouth and a pulsing need expanded between her legs.

This was a side of Stefano she hadn't seen before, and he was even more  devastating to her senses. Never mind that he was arrogantly sure of his  sexuality and masculinity. Never mind that he was in a position to call  all the shots. Never mind he was taking over Marinetti … and her.

"You must try more of the insalata di frutta," he said, lifting a slice of strawberry to her mouth.