Untamed Italians: Innocent in the Italian's Possession / Italian Tycoon, Secret Son / Italian Marriage: In Name Only. Kathryn Ross
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because of her promise to Cesare, she could lose half of the inn she’d struggled to save. Without pausing to consider the ramifications, she phoned Cesare’s banker.
As expected, the man was more interested in Cesare’s health than her business, but she managed to gain his promise that he’d assess the market value of the refurbished inn and get back to her on the particulars of a long-term loan. It was a good start, and she’d have thirty days to finalize the details.
Just thinking of the sum left her light-headed. She cradled her head in her hands and fought off a wave of stress-induced nausea. She’d never get out of debt!
But bringing Rachel’s image to mind was all it took to convince her she was doing the right thing. Never mind it was the only thing she could do and keep her word.
The intercom came to life and she swallowed a startled squawk.
This wasn’t the short zing that Cesare often used to alert her. No, the intercom made a continual buzz like a swarm of angry bees, a sound made possible only if a finger was held on the button to make a noise she couldn’t ignore. And God knew she wanted to ignore Stefano at this moment.
“Yes,” she answered when the buzzing finally stopped and she could respond.
“I will be meeting with the yard supervisors, managers and assistants throughout the day,” Stefano said. “Alert me when the first employee arrives.”
“Of course,” she said, relieved to know she’d be spared his company.
“I have ordered appetizers for the meeting,” he said. “Send the caterer in the minute he arrives.”
“I will,” she said with gritted teeth, and moments later she did just that.
The caterer had no more than left when the production supervisor strode in. Treating the workers to appetizers was a generous touch and she didn’t want to think of Stefano as generous, not when he was being anything but with her.
Gemma shoved thoughts of Stefano’s smile and imposing demeanor and heated gazes from her mind. The man had commanded far too much of her time. And wasn’t that an ingenious ploy of the playboy billionaire to keep her off balance?
She grabbed the chance alone to ring her brother again. But like before, Emilio didn’t answer then or any of the times she tried during the next four hours while Marinetti managers and assistants took their individual meetings with Stefano.
Frustration nipped along her nerves as she tried to contact her brother one last time. If she couldn’t reach him and secure the money for that first installment, she’d lose the inn!
Just when she feared all was lost, Emilio answered with his typically effervescent, “Ciao!”
Relief that she’d finally caught him left her trembling and she got a two-handed grip on the phone. “I’ve been trying all afternoon to reach you. Were you out to sea?”
A long pause pulsed over the line. “Sì, I was out. Is something wrong?”
She nearly laughed, for the list was too long to go into, even if she was so inclined. Less was more, she told herself.
“How has business been?”
Emilio cursed, but it was the vehemence in his voice more than the words that gave her new cause for worry. “I have had bad luck. You know how it is.”
She did know, for there had been times when their papa had barely managed to put food on their table due to a poor day’s catch. It had been worse after their mamma died and their papa had seemed so alone and adrift.
“Yes, I haven’t forgotten,” she said, and screwed up her courage to do the thing she’d never done. “Emilio, I have a loan that is due and I can’t pay it. I need your help in this, and I will repay you in full in a month. Maybe less.”
And she would somehow, even though she’d supported her brother and his wife while he struggled to pick up the reins of their father’s fishing business. She’d never asked for recompense. Never. Surely her brother would help her now.
“When is your loan due?” he asked.
“Tonight,” she said. “Can you manage it?”
Again, another long, uncomfortable pause that did nothing to ease Gemma’s doubts.
“Sì. I’ll bring you the cash, but it may be late,” Emilio said. “Okay?”
“Yes, fine. The deadline is midnight.” She bit her lip, debating where to meet her brother for the exchange. There was really only one option. “I’m dining with Stefano at Gervasio at ten. If you can’t make it by eleven, please call.”
“I’ll meet you there around that time,” he said just as bells sounded in the background—bells that she associated with casino jackpots going off.
“Emilio, are you gambling again?” she asked, gripping the phone like a lifeline, but he’d already hung up.
Worry seeped into her bones like a cold mist rolling in off a winter sea. Were those casino bells? Had her brother reverted to the vice that had nearly destroyed him before?
No, she must be mistaken. He’d been fishing. Perhaps what she’d heard were the chime of bells on nearby ships. Yes, that had to be it.
All would be well. Emilio would lend her the money for the first loan, and she’d secure the rest from the banker. Perhaps once Cesare recovered from surgery he could lift this burden from her. And if he didn’t recover?
A chill swept through her blood and left her trembling. She had promised Cesare that she’d hold his secret and she would. She’d promised she’d take care of his daughter while he was unable to. But she hadn’t thought she’d have to come up with the money that Cesare had used for his daughter’s care each month!
It was a staggering sum, simply because Cesare insisted on the finest for Rachel. And Gemma couldn’t deny her, either. The child had been through so much pain in her short life.
If only Stefano put family first like his father did. But he’d been in charge less than a day and had already changed many things. She’d heard the department heads grumbling to themselves as they left his office.
No, she had no choice but to shoulder this alone.
“Did you take lunch?” Stefano asked.
She nearly jumped out of her skin to discover he stood right behind her. Realizing he was that close had her whole system going haywire again.
“No,” she said, tidying her already neat desk to keep her hands busy. “The time got away from me.”
He said nothing for the longest time, just stood behind her chair. She was intimately aware of each breath he took. Of the spicy scent that was subtle yet powerful all the same.
“Come and take a letter,” he said, laying a hand on the back of her chair and just barely grazing her spine with his thumb.
That’s all it took for a bolt of energy to hum through her and send her senses reeling again. She lurched to her feet and out of his reach, not caring if her aversion to him was obvious.
His hot gaze snared her for a moment and she flushed at the amusement dancing in those dark, fathomless eyes. My God, nothing got past this man. Nothing!
She grabbed her notepad and marched into his office, eager to take her dictation or notes and get the hell out of here when she was keenly aware of him as a man. And how could she be anything but?
He’d removed his jacket at some point and rolled up the sleeves on his crisp white shirt. She didn’t want to notice that his forearms were muscled and generously sprinkled with black hair. She certainly didn’t wish to appreciate the male power and beauty of his physique, but it was impossible not to.
She damned her gaze for returning to—no, for lingering on—the wedge of hair visible