CHAPTER THREE

      THERE was little chance she’d ever forget that Mr. Arrogant was in total charge of his father’s company. And her?

      Only temporarily.

      “That’s less than twelve hours away,” she said, fighting the panic that left her trembling inside.

      He gave another lazy shrug. “You’ve owed a first payment for months. Are you conceding defeat?”

      “Not at all. I’ll have the money by tonight.”

      Gemma just wished she felt half as sure as she let on.

      She had a little money put back and hoped her brother could loan her the rest. It shouldn’t be a problem as he’d told her countless times of late that he’d had excellent luck at sea with his fishing business.

      But even after that deadline was met, another one loomed in thirty days. And another after that. What a nightmare she’d entered into!

      She couldn’t continue borrowing money from her family. No, her only recourse would be to take out a loan at the bank. At least then she could get more favorable terms. At least then she wouldn’t be subjected to Stefano Marinetti’s lurid suggestions.

      There was no time like the present to appeal to Cesare’s banker, either. Being indebted to Stefano was simply too stressful for her. Being in the same room with him was nearly more than she could bear.

      Since Signora Marinetti’s funeral when she’d first seen Stefano across the crowded room, she’d had trouble tearing her gaze away from the man whose bearing commanded her full attention. She’d known he’d bring trouble and change.

      She just hadn’t dreamed it would touch her so personally. She hated the power he exerted over her as much as she hated the untenable position she was in.

      “Your ability to meet the deadline deserves celebration,” he said, his voice a rich blend of arrogance and sensuality that whispered over her senses like silk on skin.

      “That isn’t necessary.” Or wanted.

      The less she was in his company the better.

      He lounged back in his chair and stroked his lower lip with one long, blunt finger, the gesture masculinely contemplative and sexy as hell. “I insist.”

      “Fine,” she said when this arrangement was anything but. “Is there anything else you need?” she asked in her most bland business tone, a contradiction to the riot of emotions going on inside her.

      “No, bella, that is all,” he said.

      She stiffened at the endearment, for it was just a phrase to him. Just a toss of words that meant nothing. He likely used it to charm women all the time.

      And Stefano Marinetti certainly knew how to flirt!

      She marched across the room on legs that trembled, refusing to give in to the urge to run from the man. He’d enjoy seeing her distress, her fear. She’d deny him both.

      It was imperative that she maintain her dignity and go about her duties as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. As if her entire future didn’t depend on her meeting this damnable deadline at midnight.

      “One more thing,” Stefano said the second she’d reached the door and freedom, the velvet timbre in his voice ensnaring her as tightly as a mariner’s net. “Make dinner reservations for us at Gervasio.”

      “I already have dinner plans.”

      “Cancel them,” he said in an obnoxiously imperial tone.

      Everything was happening too fast as it was and quickly spiraling out of her control.

      She wasted no time leaving the confines of his office where every breath she drew brought the taste of him to her tongue and the clean, spicy scent of him filled her head. The fact that he expected she would prostitute herself infuriated her. But then he believed she was more than his father’s personal secretary.

      And she could only defend herself so far without revealing Cesare’s secret. Dear God, could this get any worse?

      Her gaze flicked to the clock and her insides knotted. It wasn’t even close to noon and she already felt as if she’d put in a full day’s work. She’d be a jumble of nerves well before the deadline tonight.

      She took a steadying breath and let it out slowly. Dinner with Stefano at Gervasio. At one time she’d have looked forward to dining in the elite restaurant. But now it loomed as the place where she stood to lose everything, including her pride.

      But what choice did she have but to go through with this mad plan?

      The money that Cesare withdrew every month was for Rachel’s care. But she couldn’t tell Stefano that. She couldn’t trust him to do what was right for the little girl.

      So she’d blurted out that the money was a loan for the inn. Her inn. And now he’d set his eye on her half of that!

      If only she could tell him the truth. But Stefano had abandoned his family before in their time of need. He seemed to possess no concept of family. He didn’t seem to care for anything but money and power.

      Now he was taking charge of his father’s company and would certainly change Marinetti forever. Her heart ached for Cesare for he’d lost his wife, his health and now control of his own company.

      In regards to Rachel, Cesare didn’t have any other family he could trust with her care. Nobody but her.

      Their bond was so strong. So unshakable. She’d do anything for Cesare. Anything for Rachel. Anything.

      Which is why she’d agreed to Stefano’s terms. If Cesare didn’t trust his son to ensure Rachel continued to receive the best care, then neither could she. Take care of Rachel until I am able to do so again, Cesare had told her.

      But when would Cesare return? How could she possibly satisfy that staggering loan every month? And the bigger question, how would Cesare continue to care for Rachel if he was indeed close to bankruptcy?

      He couldn’t, which meant that, too, passed to her.

      With a curse, she crossed to her desk and phoned her brother. Since her association with Cesare and her move to Viareggio, she’d rarely seen Emilio.

      Though they’d spoken on the phone, even that was difficult to arrange for her brother was at sea for long stretches of time, often out of range of his mobile. That must be the case now for the phone rang and rang.

      She hung up and thought it ironic that she was contacting him to beg for a loan. How the tables had turned!

      Two years ago it was her brother who was constantly asking her for money. Neither she nor her papa had realized then that Emilio had adopted the Machiavellian lifestyle.

      His reckless gambling had caused their papa untold grief for years. But after the last bout of rehabilitation, her brother had finally settled down and married.

      After their father’s death, Emilio had taken great interest in the shipping business he’d inherited. His wife helped Nonna with the reopening of the inn and day-to-day management.

      Why, her brother had boasted that the money she’d sent home to refurbish