Innocent in the Italian's Possession(16)

"Scusi," she said and made for the door, her mind racing to find the swiftest means to reach Monte Carlo.

"Where are you going?"

"To my brother."

"Why? What do you hope to accomplish by going there?"

"To stop him from this gambling binge he's on." And if possible, claim what was due her before the dreaded deadline.

"He won't listen to you, bella."

He grabbed her arm and pulled her to him, his gaze darkly intense and  pulsing with anger and vengeance and another emotion that was there and  gone before she could recognize it. And then there was the power of his  long, lean fingers snaked around her arm and the fire and energy arcing  from him to her like a lightning storm, making her knees weak and her  heart heavy.

Why did he have to be so ruthless?

He cupped her cheek in his palm and she blinked back sudden tears, for  his tenderness mocked the animosity he held for her. "Even if you could  reason with him, he's in a high stakes game that plays hard and fast."

She wasn't sure what that meant, but she knew she could only do one  thing. Honor the promise she'd made to her parents. To Nonna.

"All the more reason for me to go there now."

She jerked from Stefano and ran from the room, hating that she drew  attention to herself, hating that she didn't know how she could stop  this avalanche of doom descending on her family.

Stefano caught up to her just as she reached the main room. As before he  pressed a hand to the small of her back and she came up short, as if  there was an invisible thread between them that only he controlled.

"How do you intend to get there at this hour?" he asked in a deceptively low calm voice.

"I don't know. A plane, perhaps."

"You will end up waiting for hours. The game could be over by then."

"Then I'll rent a car and drive the distance."

"Unacceptable."

They stepped outside and he snapped his fingers, sending the attendant rushing to fetch his car.

"I suppose you have a better idea?" she asked.

A darkening scowl crossed his features, giving him that fierce gladiator  mien again. At that moment she believed him capable of conquering  anything. Her brother. Her. The world.

"Let your brother sink or swim. It is over, bella. You can't change him and you can't meet the deadline. Accept it."

"I won't stand by and do nothing."

The tendons in his neck stood out and his dark eyes blazed with anger at her defiance. Not that she cared what he thought.

It was her family who would suffer.

But even if Stefano had any concept of family, he'd not care about the  turmoil she suffered. She had to talk sense into her brother and get him  help before he was in debt so deeply he'd never get out.

"I will not allow you to do this."

Gemma gaped at Stefano. Was he serious?

"You can't stop me."

She knew that was the wrong thing to say when his eyes darkened to that  feral black again. But he held his thoughts and she suspected that was  because they were surrounded by people.

But she knew a cauldron of anger boiled within him. Anger at her brother, at her. At his father?

It was the reason why that puzzled her.

Then she recalled what had started this all. He'd mentioned the vast sum  Cesare had spent the past year. Money he'd used for his daughter's care  as well as the generous gift he'd insisted she have.

Her nest egg for a better tomorrow though she'd spent it all on the inn. Her nonna had lived long enough in squalor.

Gemma wasn't about to let her continue to do so, not when she finally  had the means to make the necessary repairs. If Cesare hadn't needed  her, she would have returned to Manarolo and taken over the inn herself.  It wasn't as if she'd be usurping her sister-in-law's duties!                       
       
           



       

But she couldn't tell Stefano any of that, for to do so would reveal the  secret she'd swore to hold for Cesare. Now seeing how little regard  Stefano held for family, she didn't dare trust him with the truth.

"You can't meet the deadline for the loan," he said as he escorted her  to his car. "Which means I will own your half of the inn. If you hope to  negotiate a means to regain the title, you would be wise to do as I  tell you to do."

Gemma's heart stuttered, aware that domineering threat wasn't a mere  boast. But was he serious about giving her a chance to regain her half  of the inn? "What are you suggesting?"

"We'll discuss it later." He motioned for her to get in the car, his  expression carefully devoid of emotion again. "You want to go to Monte  Carlo tonight, then I will take you."

"Then neither of us will be back at work in the morning," she said as she got in the car.

"Work can wait."

In moments he'd slid behind the wheel and cut into traffic with the  expertise of a Formula 1 driver and she realized he was dead serious.

She didn't relish the idea of racing over the mountains in the middle of  the night with Stefano Marinetti. But she couldn't waste another second  reaching her brother, either.

"How long will it take to drive there?"

"Too long. We are taking my helicopter."

He couldn't be serious.

But as he turned onto the main road and sped back toward the shipyard, she knew that Stefano Marinetti wasn't jesting.



An hour later, Stefano set down the helicopter in the executive heliport  at Monte Carlo. Gemma hadn't said a word since they'd lifted off, even  though he'd fitted her with earphones.

But then he hadn't felt obliged to strike up a conversation, either. For  one thing, the night-flight had demanded all his concentration. For  another he didn't trust himself to remain impassive when the very air  they breathed pulsed with tension.

Though he'd expected it, he still found it galling that she'd asked for  an extension on the damned loan. "Cesare would've granted it," she'd  said, and he was certain she was right.

That was all the reminder he'd needed to believe that she'd appeal to  his father as soon as she could. She'd get back in Cesare's good graces  and his bed.

But the possibility of her taking her position further loomed large  before him, especially now that she stood to lose her shares of the inn.  Marriage would cement her place in his father's life and grant her the  power to do whatever the hell she wished with what little money  remained.

And considering her devotion to her brother, that money would likely find its way to Monte Carlo.

No, he couldn't let her near his father. Instead he must make a more  attractive proposition to her, and he must give her little chance to  refuse.

As soon as it was safe to exit the helicopter, he hurried her across the  helipad and into the waiting limo. His blood heated from the light  scent that was uniquely hers and the excitement that crackled in the  air. From the fact that when this nasty business was concluded here, he  and Gemma would form a new arrangement.

That she'd be his.

Flashes of lights confirmed the paparazzi were out in force, leading him  to believe that more celebrities than usual were partaking of the games  of chance or just visiting on the chance to be noticed partying among  the ultrarich.

He'd never found this jet-set lifestyle appealing. Staying on the  cutting edge of his business and promoting it to its fullest kept him on  the go. Unlike a good number of his contemporaries, he preferred to  celebrate his successes with a select few or in private with a beautiful  woman.

Like Gemma?

He shoved that thought from his mind and concentrated on what had brought him here tonight. Gemma.

How ironic that just two weeks ago Jean Paul had goaded him to come  gamble. Buying Cardone's old trawler had made it worth his time.

And now?

The last text message he'd received from Jean Paul hinted at a repeat of  the last time he'd been pitted against Cardone. Only this victory  tonight would be over Gemma.

It would be all the sweeter. When she saw her brother fail this time,  she'd have no choice but to accept what Stefano offered. No choice at  all.

"How in the world will I find Emilio here?" Gemma asked, her voice so low he wondered if she was talking to herself.

The hand he had pressed to her spine slid to her side-all to get a  better hold on her as they wended their way through this throng. It had  nothing to do with offering her comfort for the turmoil she'd face in  the next hour. Nothing!

"Cardone is in the poker room engaged in a high stakes game," he said. "He has lost the last two hands."                       
       
           



       

"How do you know that?" she asked.

"My friend sent me a message some time ago," he said.

She stopped and stared at him. "Did you hire your friend to gamble against Emilio?"

"No, Jean Paul is a billionaire with a talent and desire to gamble on  his off time." He didn't bother to mention Jean Paul was a celebrated  Formula 1 driver, for what was the point?