Innocent in the Italian's Possession(11)

Despite the warm breeze riffling her hair and caressing her skin, she  felt the chill as he closed off from her. She'd clearly struck a raw  nerve by bringing up money.

"Not all miliadario have a philanthropic heart."

"More is the pity." When she thought of how much good just a portion of that extravagance would do, she grew angry.

"I suppose you discussed this issue with my father?" he asked, the bite in his tone hinting his anger was rising as well.

"I didn't have to," she said.

"Meaning?"

"Your father is a generous, caring man," she said instead, and that truth seemed to make him all the more angry.

Gemma turned her attention to the harbor and managed to draw air into  her lungs. Very few fishing boats could be seen amid the staggering  array of yachts and trawlers.                       
       
           



       

The old way of life was nearly gone, and with it she feared a good deal  of those compassionate values were disappearing as well. The same could  be said for the good men like her father and Cesare, too.

She had felt comfortable with Cesare from the start. He had been the  friend she could talk with about her deepest fears. He listened. He  applauded her bravery and her compassion.

She loved him. Respected him. She'd do all she could to protect him.

But who would protect her from Stefano Marinetti and his smoldering sensuality?

Stefano pulled his car into a slot and tossed her a teasing look that  was at odds with his earlier pique. His rapier fire switch in emotions  kept her on edge. That was likely just what he wanted to do.

After all, she was a very small fish in a big sea and he was the whale who could swallow her whole.

"We have much to do in a short period of time," he said as he unfolded  his long, lean form from the car then collected the bags the designer  had given him.

He must expect her to change clothes here. What she wouldn't give for a shower!

"I assume you have a list you wish me to attend to," she said as she quit the car, not about to wait for him to open her door.

The deep crease between his eyes hinted he disliked her independence.  "Most of the daily duties have been seen to by my staff here. All that  is left for you to do is retrieve messages and see to the necessary  correspondence."

Typical secretarial duties that anyone could have seen to during the  day, including a temp. It hadn't been necessary for him to drag her  along. No, there was another reason why he'd monopolized her time. She  feared it had something to do with Cesare and her part in his life.

If he'd only spent time with his dear father these past years he  wouldn't be left in the dark now! But he'd made his decision to leave  the family business and the division cost Cesare untold grief for he'd  lost not just one child but two. One had been the result of an accident.  The other had been an intentional separation from the family-a split  that was nearly unheard of in Italy.

Here sons and often daughters carried on the family tradition generation  after generation. It had been the way for her family, with Emilio  taking over their papa's fishing business while she would one day  inherit the old inn in Manarolo.

This passing of power was how it should have been with Stefano  Marinetti. When his brother died, he should have assumed that role  within the company.

But he'd walked out on his father.

He'd shunned tradition and his famiglia.

And what did that say about the man who held his family in so little regard?

He was self-absorbed. Stefano seemed to care for one thing-himself.

Now he was in charge of Marinetti. He'd likely change a company that was steeped in tradition. All to leave his indelible mark.

If not for her promise to Cesare, she'd leave now. But she was honor  bound to stay. She couldn't trust Stefano with Rachel's care, not for a  moment.

With her gown slung over one broad shoulder, he guided her into the new  building that was open and spacious. Of course it would look larger  since it was past hours and the employees had gone home for the day.

She gave the workstations they passed an enviable glance. New computers,  new phones and ergonomic chairs that screamed comfort. But then Stefano  had the money to splurge on such niceties.

Cesare had a desperately ill child to provide for. He had obligations to his family. He didn't put money before honor!

Gemma stared out of the expansive stretch of glass windows at the sea  and sighed. How different things would be if Stefano was as caring and  passionate about life and family as his father was.

She would've found him irresistible. She may actually have given in to  the desire that simmered between them, only because she would've found  it impossible to say no.

If he was like Cesare, it would be oh so easy to fall in love with him.

But he wasn't like his father.

Stefano was an arrogant aristocrat. No, make that an arrogant, selfish aristocrat.

Men like him didn't marry poor working girls like her. They made them their mistresses.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

She shook her head and bit back a bitter laugh over her errant thoughts.  "I am tired. It's been a long day." A long trying day in his company.

"It is far from over." He pushed into an elegantly appointed suite that  was clearly his domain and draped the garment bag over a leather sofa.  "If you wish to freshen up before you dress, my bagno privata is through  that door."

She flicked a glance in that direction and nodded before admiring the  vista afforded from the windows again. "The view is fabulous."                       
       
           



       

He shrugged off her observation. "It is never boring."

How typical of the playboy who tired of things far too quickly! She  trailed him across the room and through a door, anxious for him to  conclude his business here.

For she'd not be able to breathe easy until she'd satisfied that first  payment on the awful loan she'd been forced to admit to. Once that was  over, she'd be nothing more than his secretary until Cesare returned.

He entered a smaller yet still spacious room where an elegant teak desk sat with an equally gorgeous view of the harbor.

"My personal assistant's office." He pointed to an inbox overflowing  with envelopes. "Please sort through these and bring me the ones that  need my immediate attention."

She looked at the pile that likely had accumulated for over a week. "Of course."

He glanced at his watch. "I'll be back in thirty minutes."

With that he was off, his long legs carrying his lean, enticing form through the door and out of sight.

Gemma gave the stack of correspondence a glance. It was thrice the size  she handled for Cesare every day, but at least the time would pass  quickly.

But before she tackled this task, she wanted to shower and be ready to leave when Stefano returned.

She walked the length of his office en route to the bagno. Again she was struck with the Spartan elegance surrounding her.

A colorful Laurus Murano vase here. An Alberto Sughi oil there. And the furnishings … They were classic and high quality.

It didn't dawn on her that she and Stefano had similar tastes until she  made to flip the lock to ensure privacy. There was none, just a simple  catch on the bathroom door.

She hesitated, torn between refreshing herself with a shower and risking being caught in the nude by Stefano.

Gemma bit her lower lip and checked her watch. He wouldn't return for nearly thirty minutes. She'd be done way before then.

Without giving herself time to change her mind, she undressed and  stepped into la doccia which was certainly large enough for two.

Standing in the shower with warm water pelting her tired body was a  refreshing break after a tense day. She did not want to think of  Stefano, yet even as warm water pelted her tense muscles she imagined  his gaze caressing her. Probing magnetic eyes that could adore and scold  in turn.

It annoyed her that thoughts of him invaded her private moments. Couldn't she block him from her mind at all?

She stepped from the shower and wrapped herself in a thick, thirsty  towel that swallowed her. These had to have been specially ordered for  Stefano's big frame, and just thinking of him stripped to the skin and  wet left her trembling with want.

How could she possibly desire a man she didn't respect?

A brisk toweling and she quickly donned her new teal dress. She hated  that he'd purchased it, but she loved the design. She'd never owned  anything this exquisite.

How could something so simple be so sensual? She didn't know and surely didn't wish to project that aura around Stefano.

She'd repay him for the gown, even though it would take time. She would not be beholden to him.

Gemma quit the bathing room to find Stefano lounging in the doorway. His  hot gaze roamed the length of her slowly, pausing at her mouth, her  breasts and the juncture of the thighs.

Desire speared low in her belly, more intense than she'd ever felt  before. She tightened her hold on the door, knowing she should look away  but finding it impossible to tear her gaze from his magnetic stare.