Innocent in the Italian's Possession(13)

Once she had realized that Stefano's brother was the heir, it had taken  her merely a week or two at the most to seduce his brother.

Her deceit had taught him a valuable lesson, for though he hadn't lost his heart to her, he'd certainly lost his head.

But she was far from done with Stefano.

From that point on she'd succeeded in driving a wedge between him and  his brother. That had been the major reason he'd left Marinetti  Shipyard. He couldn't tolerate being around her and deal with her lies.  He wouldn't suffer his brother's distrust of him in business or being  around his conniving wife.

His mamma knew the truth, and he suspected his papa did, too, but neither brought it up.

Their new daughter-in-law quickly got with child. The next heir to the  shipyard. The first Marinetti grandson which both his parents had doted  on.

It had been easier for Stefano to strike out on his own than to cause  more strife in his own family. He made his mark and set his own dream  for a new shipping company into motion.

But even after the tragic accident that took his brother's,  sister-in-law's and nephew's lives he couldn't return to Marinetti. His  father still scoffed at his innovations, and refused to compromise.

Yet here he was, thrust into the role of manager. Forced to contend with  another scheming woman who had designs on Marinetti Shipyard.

Did Gemma hope to take his mamma's place?

It was a possibility Stefano couldn't ignore for she'd managed to gain a  small fortune in a short amount of time. But the stress of keeping up  with a young lover and hiding his affair from his wife-no, the  world!-had damned near killed his father.

With his mamma dead, there was nothing to stop his papa from easing his grief in Gemma's arms. Nothing but Stefano.

He couldn't tolerate his father making Miss Cardone his wife. He  couldn't see his mamma's memory dishonored so. He'd not stand by while  another gold-digger bled a Marinetti dry!                       
       
           



       

He'd turned his back the last time. He wouldn't make that mistake again!

Stefano climbed from behind the wheel and nodded to the waiting  attendant. A few lights flashed from the line of trim poplars at the  side.

He immediately schooled his features, though any damage would already be  done. He'd caught the attention of the paparazzi who had staked out the  restaurant in hopes that a celebrity would happen by tonight. They  typically chose an image that conveyed the greatest emotion and slapped  some idiotic caption on it.

The media hounds were a nuisance he'd learned to live with. But Gemma  and his father had smoothly evaded any limelight on their trysts to  Milan.

Of course up until his mamma's untimely death, his parents had been free  of the paparazzi for ten years. His insides twisted at the memory.

The deaths of his brother and his family had drawn the gossips in hoards and had driven his parents into hiding.

Stefano remembered well how the journalists had camped out on the edge  of their property, waiting for the chance to capture their grief.  Vultures, all of them.

Since then Stefano had done all in his power to evade publicity as well. Thankfully time had tempered his animosity.

But this business with Gemma had his old resentment bubbling to the  surface again. She was the opposite of his sister-in-law in looks and  disposition yet was just as cunning and manipulative.

Gemma had awakened passionately fierce emotions in him that he'd vowed  never to fall victim to again! Yet hadn't he done just that when he'd  kissed her in his office?

He was not above seducing her to satisfy his lust, but he would not surrender his pride or his head to her.

He wouldn't let history repeat itself!

Stefano rounded the Alpha Romeo with quick angry strides as an attendant  helped Gemma get out. More lights flashed from the perimeter and people  on the sidewalk stopped to see what celebrity was dining here tonight.

Gemma cast a frantic glance his way and for a moment he almost felt pity for her. Almost.

He offered his arm out of duty and she latched on to it. Though he had  zero respect for her duplicity, he was man enough to admit she was a  beautiful, desirable woman. Even without the attention of the paparazzi,  heads would have turned toward her.

Sì, their pictures would grace the gossip rags tomorrow. Speculation would be ripe of the identity of his dinner companion.

It was just a matter of time before someone recognized her as his  father's secretary. Then the gossips would question if this was a  business dinner, or something more intimate.

"Buonasera, Signor Marinetti!" the host said as Stefano pressed his  fingers to Gemma's slender back to guide her to the podium. "Your  private room is ready."

"Grazie!"

He knew she was a schemer and manipulator, yet his body quickened  whenever he touched her. He should be imagining her slaving to repay  what she'd stolen instead of picturing her lounging on a bed with her  arms reaching for him.

Damning his inability to douse his lust where she was concerned, he  hurried her along in the host's wake down an intimately lighted hall.  The telling stiffening of her back proved she was eager to break contact  with him as well.

Could she be fighting her own desires? Or was she simply playing hard to  get so his indomitable male pride would goad him to pursue her?

She could end up married to his father!

No, he wouldn't let that happen.

He'd take her first, make her his paramour and make damn sure the world  knew it. That was the only way that his father would see her for what  she truly was.

His father was old school. He saw no harm in engaging in an affair, but he'd never tolerate his wife or lover doing the same.

The private dining room held just the right ambiance of subdued light  and serenate violino drifting in from the main room. It was an area  perfectly suited for a lover's tryst.

Or the cutting business he intended to finalize tonight.

He smiled and seated Gemma to his right, confident he was in control of the woman and the situation drawing near.

The waiter bustled in, the lines of his broad face carved in a deep  smile. "Buonasera, signor and signora. Che cosa volete da bere?"

"Barolo, ten or twelve years old," Stefano said.

"Excellent choice, signor." The waiter smiled at Gemma. "Signora?"

"A crodino, please," Gemma said.

She ordered a bevande analcoliche at this time of night? "Is there  another wine or apertif you would prefer?" Stefano asked. "Perhaps a  bellini?"

She shook her head. "I rarely drink alcohol."

But there were occasions, he was sure. So why not share a celebratory drink with him now?

Perhaps there was another reason why she hesitated to imbibe. Perhaps  vino loosened her inhibitions. Perhaps she feared she'd lose the tenuous  control she'd managed to maintain since they'd left Canto Di Mare.                       
       
           



       

Perhaps she was remembering the passion that had flared between them  when they'd kissed. When his hands had glided over her body. When he'd  pulled her close and let her feel the hard evidence of his desire.

Stefano felt the first stirrings of desire in his groin. He usually had  far more self-control than that around women, yet with Gemma it seemed  nonexistent. Had she had that same effect on his papa?

Likely so. While the old man grew indulgent from his vino, she'd kept  her wits by drinking an orange fizz. She'd remained in control while his  papa slowly lost his!

Just remembering her role in his father's life gouged his anger up  another notch. But his anger was equally aimed at himself this time.

If only his mamma had told Stefano of her suspicions months ago perhaps a lot of grief and lost revenue could have been avoided.

He would have spoken with his father.

Yes, they would have argued fiercely, for no man cares to admit he was a  fool over a woman-even a hot-blooded Italian who lives to love women.  If his father would've realized what Gemma was after, she wouldn't have  dipped so deeply into Cesare Marinetti's pockets.

But Stefano had removed himself from his father's business before his  brother's death. And afterward? Nothing had changed his father's view of  the world. Nothing had opened his eyes to the pollution he was leaving  the future generation to clean up.

After Davide's funeral, his father had taken Stefano aside. "Are you  ready to give up playing inventor of eccentric ships and return to the  family shipyard?"

That fierce Marinetti pride had kept Stefano from asking his papa if  he'd needed or wanted his help. Pride and deep involvement launching a  new class of eco-friendly seagoing vessels, he amended.

"No," he'd said, and walked out of his papa's life again.

He refused to return to Marinetti Shipyard and be nothing more than a  figurehead. He refused to assume his brother's role and be groomed to  one day take over the shipyard. He refused to give up his dream now that  it was within his grasp.