Innocent in the Italian's Possession(14)

He'd never been able to see eye to eye with his papa regarding business. Neither of them would bend.

A damned shame it had taken another death for his papa to finally ask for his help. Still nothing had changed.

His father had placed the business in his hands but had insisted that  any major changes be discussed with him first. He'd agreed only because  he hadn't wished to cause his father undo stress in his condition.

But vengeance simmered in him as he thought of being near the woman  who'd come between his father and mamma. He'd known he'd make her pay  for all the hell she'd put his mamma through.

That alone was reason enough for Stefano to despise Gemma Cardone. While  forcing Gemma to repay every euro she'd conned out of his father was  just punishment, it would take years for her to do so even with the  plump salary she drew as Cesare's personal secretary.

No, he had to get her out of his father's life for good. The only way to do that was to make her his paramour!

Stefano set his menu aside and studied the little schemer in the mellow  candlelight. She looked pale and vulnerable as she stared at the menu,  like a waif washed ashore and in need of a protector.

Yes, no wonder his father had fallen under her spell. Now it was time to turn the tables on her.

"They are noted for their calamari," Stefano said in a conversational  tone that he used to put adversaries at ease. "But of course feel free  to order whatever you wish."

"I couldn't do such a meal justice," she said.

A typical excuse from women who were obsessed with maintaining a model's  figure. All they wanted was a bit of cajoling so they wouldn't feel  guilty about indulging!

Not that Gemma had to fret about gaining weight. She was edging toward the painfully thin side already.

"A bit of antipasto will awaken your appetite," he said. "Perhaps zuppa as your primo."

"Please, I'm really not hungry."

First her refusal to drink alcohol and now her lost appetite. Was she  playing some game to dupe him, or was she beset by an increased case of  nerves?

The waiter arrived with his wine and a glass bicchere holding her orange  fizz. He served the lady first, then he gently poured a dram of wine in  Stefano's glass and stepped back to dutifully wait his approval.

Stefano noted the bouquet had a slightly spicy, sweet fragrance much  like the one Gemma wore. He frowned, annoyed that comparison came to  mind. With effort he concentrated on his opinion of the vino.

"Signor?" the waiter asked.

Stefano pushed thoughts of Gemma aside and gave a clipped nod of approval. "Delizioso."                       
       
           



       

The waiter smiled and proceeded to rattle off the house specials. "What would the lady like?"

"Un insalata e bruchetta," Gemma said.

Stefano tapped the menu on the table. "You must have more than that."  Before she could protest, Stefano ordered antipasto and calamari for  two. "My mamma always maintained that they serve the best dolce."

She wet her lips and he knew she was tempted. "I shouldn't."

Ah, but she wanted dessert.

He found her willpower annoying and admirable.

"How is Cesare today?" she asked.

She gave the impression she was as delicate as the crystal stem of the  glass he clutched in his hand. But he knew there was steel in her spine.  Not enough, though.

He could snap the wineglass as easily as he would break her. Mio Dio, right now he wanted to do both!

Soon, he told himself. He'd satisfy his revenge soon.

He waited to reply as the waiter bustled in with the platter of  antipasto and then left them to their privacy. Those few moments seemed  to make her more anxious.

"Papa is stable and resting," he said.

A slight smile touched her mouth, but her expansive sigh relayed her  relief and drew his attention to the quick rise and fall of her bosom.  "I've been worried."

More likely she was concerned about her future role in his papa's life!  He speared shrimp, smoked tuna and vegetables onto his plate and let his  anger ebb again. Her cushy lifestyle was crashing to an end around her,  whether she realized it or not.

What did she value above all else?

By her own admission she'd invested a lot of money in her family's inn  in Manarolo-an inn that she held half ownership in. As he was aware  exactly how much money she'd gained from his father, the refurbished inn  must rival a five-star hotel on the Riviera!

Still, he found it interesting that she'd put up her shares as  collateral on her loan. Even with improvements, he couldn't imagine her  assets would come close to covering his father's loss, but if she and  her family relied on the income from the inn, he could yank that  security blanket out from under her.

"Tell me more about your family's inn on Manarolo."

Genuine excitement lit her eyes and he knew he was on the right track.  "It's a wonderful old house nearly five hundred years old. At least half  of that time it's been in our family."

"Your mother's family?" he asked as he passed the antipasto to her and insisted she eat.

"No, my papa's." She picked a pitiful few items off the platter-no  wonder she was skin and bones! "The inn had passed from generation to  generation to the oldest girl, but all Nonna had was Papa. So when Mamma  gave birth to me, Nonna gave me half of the inn and let Mamma manage it  for me. But when she died, it was up to Nonna to see to the inn and  care for my brother, Emilio, and me while Papa fished."

It was an arrangement he'd heard of with other working class Italians.  Though he was curious about her mother's death at such a young age, he  didn't wish to discuss the subject. Perhaps his own mamma's untimely  death was still too fresh on his mind.

"Your nonna continues to manage the inn then?" he asked, knowing full  well Gemma couldn't have done so the past year because she'd been busy  bilking his father out of thousands of euros.

"With my sister-in-law's help."

He popped a succulent shrimp in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. He  could have her past more thoroughly investigated, but that would take  time. His patience had nearly run its course.

"What of your brother?" he asked. "Does he and his wife own the other half of the inn?"

"No," she said, the denial swift and firm. "Emilio inherited Papa's  fishing business but decided to move it to La Spezia. He said it made  good sense to base the business there where he'd be bringing in his  day's catch, and he didn't mind taking the train from Manarolo each  morning."

Did she honestly believe that?

In the short time he'd had to look into Gemma Cardone's past, he'd  discovered her brother strove to live the life of a playboy. His  frequent visits to the Monte Carlo gaming tables were well-known, as was  his debatable talent at poker.

The question was where had her brother come by his original bankroll?

Stefano doubted it was from fishing.

He suspected Gemma had fed her brother's gambling habit with the money  she'd gained from Cesare in hopes of doubling her family's fortune. But  had he been successful?

Rumor had it that Emilio Cardone had been on a losing streak of late. A  destructive losing streak. What more had he sold in order to gamble?                       
       
           



       

"I do worry about Nonna," she said, drawing his attention back to her.

There was genuine concern in her voice. While Stefano was curious what troubled her so, he refused to be moved by it.

"Why? Is your grandmother in poor health?"

She shook her head. "She seems hearty enough, but I know that my sister-in-law lets Nonna do the bulk of the work."

"A bit of a shirker?" Like Cardone?

"She's young and has a baby that demands her time."

Stefano sipped his wine and let it all sink in. Around one year ago life  for the Cardones had changed drastically thanks to Gemma becoming  Cesare Marinetti's secretary.

"I am curious how you came to work for my father," he said.

She took a bite of mozzarella-topped tomato, stalling to answer he was  sure. "I was in Milan attending university and we happened to meet."

Stefano had made his fortune by his ability to read people. Right now he  knew Gemma Cardone was lying through her straight pearly teeth. He  suspected she was in Milan trolling for an easy victim who would support  her and her worthless brother.

"Milan is a big city," he said. "You were lucky to meet my father there, let alone be offered a job that you sought."

"I am well aware of my good fortune," she went on but carefully avoided meeting his eyes.

He stabbed a prosciutto-wrapped mushroom and ate it without appreciating its rich flavor.

To make Gemma suffer for the grief she had put his mamma through, all he  had to do was seize control of her inn. That would be easily  accomplished if she failed to make that first loan payment by midnight.