Bought by Her Italian Boss(2)

It made her ache all the same.

Think, she ordered herself, but it was hard when she was stuck in this  swamp of feeling so thoroughly scorned by a man who enthralled her.

"I want a lawyer," she managed to say.                       
       
           



       

"Why would you need one?" Vittorio asked with a wrathful lift of his brows, so godlike.

"This is wrongful dismissal. You're treating me like a criminal when  those photos are illegal. They were taken at a spa without my knowledge.  They're not selfies, so how could I have sent them to Kevin Jensen? Or  anyone? His wife is the one who recommended I go there for my shoulder!"

Vito flicked his gaze to the laptop, mentally reviewing images that  would have been very titillating if they were a private communication  between lovers. For long seconds as he'd reviewed the photos, he'd been  captivated against his will, having to force himself to move past his  transfixion with her sensual figure to the fact that this was a hydrogen  bomb aimed directly at the bank that was his livelihood and the  foundation that supported his entire extended family.

But the photos weren't selfies. That was true. He had thought Jensen must have taken them.

Nadine seemed to think his shift of attention was a prompt for her to  bring them up for another look. She started to open her laptop.

"Would you stop showing those to people, you freak?" Gwyn cried.

"Let's keep this professional," Nadine snapped.

"How would you react if you were me?" Gwyn shot back.

Gwyn Ellis was not what he had expected. There was an American  wholesomeness to her that neutralized some of the femme fatale that had  come across on-screen. He had expected, and received, an impact of  female sexuality when he had entered the room. He'd felt the same thing  the day she'd smiled at him in the lobby.

She'd already been under suspicion, so he'd pretended not to notice her,  but nothing could downplay her allure. That body of hers didn't stop,  with her firm, well-rounded breasts that sat high beneath her neatly cut  jacket and her waistline that begged for a man's hands to clasp before  sliding down to the flare of her hips and her gorgeously plump ass that  he dreamed of kneading. Knees were not something he'd normally  catalogue, but she had cute ones.

An image of cupping them as he held them apart drifted through his brain.

She was a very potent woman. Her shoulders were stiff, her frame tense  and defensive, but her slight stature and smooth curves announced to the  animal kingdom that she was undeniably a female of the species, of  fertile age and irresistibly ripe.

She called to the male in him, quickening the blood of the beast that he suppressed at all costs.

Visceral reactions like lust were something he indulged in very  controlled quantities. This was not the time and, judging by his  reaction to her, Gwyn was not the woman. High-octane risk-taking was his  cousin's bailiwick. Vito controlled his bloodlust ruthlessly-even  though there was a part of him that beat with excitement for the  challenge of throwing himself into this perfect storm of chemistry to  see if he could survive it.

What they could do to one another...

He turned his mind from speculating, hearing Nadine aim a very pointed  barb at Gwyn. "I wouldn't sleep with a married man. This wouldn't happen  to me."

"Who said I slept with Kevin Jensen?" Gwyn challenged hotly. "Who? I want a name."

So indignant. This was not the reaction of a woman who had posed for a  lover, running the risk of exposure. She ought to be furious with Jensen  or his wife, perhaps tossing her hair in defiance of judgment over her  decision to pose naked for her paramour. Instead, she was a woman on the  edge of her control, reacting to a catastrophe with barely contained  hysteria.

"His wife said you slept with him. Or want to. Obviously," Oscar  Fabrizio interjected, "since she posted these filthy photos when she  discovered them on his phone. You've been having lunches and dinners  with him."

Vito found that attack interesting. He had brought certain suspicions  about their nonprofit accounts manager to Paolo's attention a few weeks  ago. The assumption had easily been made that the New Girl was in on the  arrangement, facilitating.

"Kevin wanted to do things-have our meetings, I mean," Gwyn quickly  clarified, "away from the office." She was visibly distraught, looking  to Vito in entreaty. "He's a client. I didn't have a choice but to go to  him if that's what he requested."

Vito had to accept that. Excellence of customer service was a  cornerstone at Donatelli International. If a client of Jensen's caliber  wanted a house call, employees were expected to make them.

"You didn't take those photos?" he pressed her.

"No!"

"So they're not on that phone?" He nodded at where she clutched her device in a death grip.                       
       
           



       

Gwyn had forgotten she was holding it, but she always grabbed it out of  habit when she left her desk, and had switched it to silent as she came  into this meeting. Now she stared at it, surprised to see it there. At  least she could say with confidence, "No. They're not."

"You'll let me confirm that?" He held out his hand.

On the surface it was a very reasonable request, but, oh, dear Lord, no.  She had something on here that was beyond embarrassing. It would make  this situation so much worse... So much worse.

She knew her face was falling into lines of panicked guilt, but couldn't help it.

His nostrils flared and his jaw hardened. The death rays coming out of his eyes told her she'd be lucky to merely lose her job.

"This phone is mine," she stammered, trying not to let him intimidate  her. If she hadn't already been violated, she might not have been so  vehement, but he was going to have to knock her out cold to pry this  thing out of her hand if he wanted access. "I get an allowance to offset  my using it for company business, but it's mine. You don't have any  right to look at it."

"Can it clear you of suspicion or not?" His gaze delved into her culpable one.

She couldn't hide the turmoil and resentment coursing through her at  being put on the spot. "My privacy has been invaded enough."

She was naked. On the internet. She supposed everyone in the building  was staring at her image right now. Men saying filthy, suggestive  things. Women judging whether her stomach was flat enough, saying she  had cellulite, calling her too bony or too tall or too something so they  could feel better about their own body issues.

Gwyn wanted to hang her head and sob.

All she could think was how hard she'd worked not to be pushed around by  life the way her mother had been. At every stage, she'd tried to be  self-reliant, autonomous, control her future.

Breathe, she commanded herself. Don't think about it. She would fall apart. She really would.

"I think we have our answer," Fabrizio said pitilessly.

She was starting to hate that man. Gwyn wasn't the type to hate. She did  her best to get along with everyone. She was a happy person, always  believing that life was too short for drama and conflict. Being the  first to apologize made her the bigger person, she had always thought,  but she doubted she would ever forgive these people for how they were  treating her right now.

A muted buzz sounded and Nadine looked at her own phone. "The press is gathering. We need to make a statement."

The press? Gwyn circled around Fabrizio to the window and looked down.

Nadine's office was midway up the tower, but the crowd at the entrance,  and the cameras they held, were like ants pouring out of a disturbed  hill. It was as bad as a royal birth down there.

She swallowed, stomach turning again.

Kevin Jensen was an icon, a modern day, international superhero who flew  into disaster aftermath to offer "feet on the ground" assistance.  Anyone with half a brain saw that he exploited heart-wrenching  situations on camera to increase donations and boost his own profile,  but the bottom line was he showed up to terrible tragedies and brought  aid. He did real, necessary work for the devastated.

But lately Gwyn had been questioning how he spent some of those abundant donations.

Had this been his answer? A massive discrediting that would get her fired?

She hugged herself. This sort of thing didn't happen to real people. Did it?

Her gaze searched below for an escape route. She couldn't even leave the  building to get to her rented flat here in Milan. How would she get  back to America? Even if she got that far, then what? Look to her  stepfather to shelter her? Who was going to hire her with this sort of  notoriety? Ever?

She'd be exactly what she'd tried so hard to avoid being: a burden. A leach.

Oh, God...oh, God. The walls were beginning to creak and buckle around  her composure. The pressure behind her cheekbones built along with  weight on her shoulders and upper arms.