Bought by Her Italian Boss(17)

"I'll get it," Gwyn said, setting down the mushroom she was stemming.

"I'll peek in on Bianca while I'm up there," Lauren said with a wave.                       
       
           



       

Seconds later, Lauren's voice was considerably less relaxed as she swore  loud enough for Gwyn to hear her all the way down in the kitchen.

"Are you all right?" Gwyn called, making a panicked start up the stairs.

Lauren came to the open door of the main bathroom, bracing herself  against it with a white-knuckled grip, expression somewhere between  exasperated and remorseful.

"He's going to kill me. Tell Paolo my water just broke."

* * *

Vito was not a romantic, but he had seen the longing in Gwyn's  expression and felt a kick of commiseration. Paolo and Lauren made  anyone covetous of their happiness. He envied his cousin himself, not  just for finding his soul mate, but for his freedom to pursue a life  with her. Even if Vito did find the right woman...

He was adept at not letting himself dwell on such things and cut off the  thoughts as he and Paolo took Roberto down to the water and exchanged  reports.

Paolo expanded on what he'd already messaged, saying Fabrizio was a  tough nut, but cracks were showing in his story. The board of Jensen's  foundation was not yet moved to worry about any of this, let alone  meeting to discuss Jensen's possible removal. Jensen himself was leaving  the country for a minor quake that was more photo op than actual  disaster relief, but would bolster his image.

"You haven't frozen the foundation's assets?" Vito asked.

"I don't have grounds. I'll be pushing for a forensic audit once  Fabrizio breaks or we're able to prove Jensen was behind the  instructions to move funds, but he is definitely playing a rough PR game  right now. This-" He chucked his chin back toward the house and Gwyn.  "I see where you're going and it would work if it was true, but I can't  go on record saying that you've been having an affair with her all  along. We all may have to testify at some point."

"Sì," Vito agreed. "But you can state that unnamed sources-me-" he  shrugged "-made you aware some time ago that there were worrisome  transactions within the account. We put it on a watch list and saw no  reason to remove Miss Ellis because she was not only conducting herself  with sound ethics, but has since proven to be an excellent source of  knowledge with regards to the foundation's legitimate activities."

"You're convinced she has been conducting herself ethically?"

It was the judgment Vito had been avoiding making, aware that Gwyn was  already a weakness to him. He wanted her and therefore he wanted to  believe her, because how could he have an affair with a woman who was  committing crimes against the bank? He couldn't gamble his family's  future on his own selfish desires.

But at every stage, if she was the type to manipulate a man like Jensen,  her actions would have been different, right up to this afternoon in  the car. He would have been the one losing control to her hand or mouth,  he was sure, if she was the type to lie and steal and wish him to  believe otherwise.

At no time since he'd met her had Gwyn acted dishonorably, though. In  fact, she was trying to protect the little family she had from the  fallout of dishonor that, if she was innocent, wasn't hers to bear.

The problem was, if she was blameless, he was going to have to kill the man who had done this to her.

"I believe she is Jensen's victim, yes," Vito said, and heard the cruel  edge on his tone. "They gambled on her lack of experience and when she  showed her intelligence, they threw her to the wolves."

He understood the expression bloodthirsty as he said it. His tongue  tingled and his throat tried a dry swallow, but he didn't long for  water. He craved the tang of suffering for Jensen and Fabrizio and  whoever had helped them by taking those photos.

He felt the quick slash of Paolo's glance before he returned his  watchful gaze to his son, but his cousin obviously read his mood.

"So we imply you two have been having an affair all along and she's been  feeding us information. What happens when I'm asked point-blank if I  condone my VP of operations sleeping with a customer service rep?" Paolo  folded his arms, eyes on his son, but his tone added, Because I don't.

"You never comment on the private lives of your family or your  employees," Vito said, which was true. "But as a rule, you expect to be  notified of such relationships in a timely manner and you have no  quarrel with when and how your VP of operations has advised you of this  connection."

Paolo shook his head, mouth pulled into a half smirk. "People call me  competitive, but strategy plays are your drug of choice, aren't they?"

"Live the lie and it becomes the truth," he said blithely.                       
       
           



       

Paolo sobered. "The photos certainly look convincing," he said with  another pointed look, before returning his alert attention to his son in  the water.

Vito had seen the photos online from today's shopping trip with Gwyn and  last night's kiss. The passionate embrace on the stern of the yacht  still made his pulse pound just thinking of it. His mind went to the  car, the wet heat clenching his fingers as she shuddered and cried out  with fulfillment.

There were a million reasons why he should merely act like they were an  item, rather than make the affair real, but they would make it real. He  knew it in the same way that adversaries knew a physical confrontation  was coming. They could put it off, because they both knew in their gut  that neither of them would come away unscathed, but their making love  was inevitable.

"No comment?" Paolo prodded. "Because if she's a victim, don't make her more of one."

That stung. Vito hid it, countering lightly, "What do you want me to say? I like women. I can't help that they like me back."

It was the laissez-faire attitude he always affected when discussing  paramours. Paolo was the head of the family. He couldn't escape marriage  and the duty of producing progeny. Vito didn't have the same pressure  to procreate. He was at liberty to play the field the rest of his life  if he wanted to.

Paolo sent him a dour look, the one that told him Vito could show the  rest of the world, pretend his entire life was one long, lighthearted  affair, but he knew better.

Paolo knew him better than anyone. They had been adversaries themselves  in childhood, scrapping constantly. Two strong-willed, alpha-natured  boys of similar ages would. It had culminated in a fistfight of epic  proportions when they were twelve, not far from here, on the property  Vito's family still owned, high in the hills overlooking the lake. They  had been beating each other with serious intent, their superficial  argument transitioning into a far more serious drive for dominance over  the other. Neither was the type to give up. Ever.

Paolo's father had stopped them. He'd been a man of strength and drive  and purpose, the conservative head of the bank that had been the  family's livelihood for generations. He was a loving man, a devoted  uncle, a pillar of strength for all of them.

And he'd nearly cried when he'd pulled the boys apart.

You can't do this, his uncle had said. No more. You're family.

Vito didn't like upsetting his favorite uncle, but he had had nameless  frustrations swirling inside him. He was claimed to be part of their  clan, but he wasn't. Something was off and he knew it. He loved his  parents. His mother doted on him. His father showed great pride in every  one of Vito's accomplishments, but he didn't feel close to them. He was  different. Not quite like them, not the same in temperament or looks as  his sisters. He felt more kinship toward Paolo's father than his own.  When they all came together for these sorts of big, family occasions, he  caught watchful looks from some of the older aunts and uncles. It made  him tense. Meanwhile, Paolo was so very confident in his own position,  Vito was compelled to knock his cousin out of it.

So the angry accusation had come out. Am I? Family?

The way Paolo had looked to his father for that same answer, as if he  too suspected Vito was not quite one of them, had been the most  devastating blow of all.

Paolo's father had stood there with his hand on his hair, like he'd come  across a bomb blast and was suffering a kind of shell shock himself,  unable to make sense of the broken landscape.

Then, very decisively, he had nodded. Fine. I'll tell you. Both of you.

Vito had never questioned such huge news coming from his uncle, rather  than his father. It was a Donatelli matter, after all. He was a  Donatelli. Legally he was a Donatelli-Gallo. Women kept their maiden  name when they married in Italy. He and his sisters used a hyphenated  version of their parents' names, but he had always felt more drawn to  the Donatelli side of his family and used that name to this day.