Mistresses: Blackmailed For His Pleasure. Annie West
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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 the inn had made a tremendous difference in their lives. She could hardly wait to see the changes made to the old inn, but her obligations to Cesare had prevented her from visiting all these months.
Now 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,