CHAPTER FIVE

      AN HOUR later, Stefano pulled to the curb of the restaurant and set the brake. He shouldn’t have kissed her. He shouldn’t have let his hands learn the contour of her breasts, the dip of her waist, the curve of her hips.

      He damned sure shouldn’t have enjoyed every second she’d been in his arms. But he had, and the only thing that soothed his pride was the fact she’d become as lost in the moment as he.

      Now she sat as far from him as possible and stared pensively out the window, quiet and withdrawn, as if bitten by guilt for nearly succumbing to lust. It made the drive back to Viareggio overly long.

      But then he was not of a mood to engage in chitchat, either. His own lack of control vexed him. He’d not been the one to stop. She had.

      Her body had instinctively reacted to his, pressed to his and moving in a most delicious rhythm of desire. She couldn’t deny that!

      But she’d come to her senses first. He’d become so intoxicated by a woman’s taste and texture that he’d lost focus. He would’ve taken her right then and there.

      Her refusal to engage in an affair with him was a jab to his ego. For her withdrawal wasn’t part of the game of pursuit, the age-old attack and parry ritual of courtship that heightened desire.

      This was a firm no.

      Something far stronger than lust kept her from succumbing to passion. Loyalty to Cesare Marinetti?

      He slid her a glance. Did she believe that when his father recovered they would resume their affair? Did she think because his papa was widowed now that she could assert herself into the role of his wife?

      The very idea was galling, for this situation with Gemma smacked of another woman who’d had designs on gaining the lion’s share of Marinetti Shipyard.

      Before his sister-in-law had got her claws into his brother, she’d been Stefano’s lover at university. He’d never thought to introduce her to his family. But that holiday she’d been alone with nowhere to go.

      Bringing her home had been the decent thing to do. She had seen it as the opportunity to better her lot in life.

      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