Mistresses: Blackmailed For His Pleasure. Annie West
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If not for her promise to Cesare, she’d leave now. But she was honor bound to stay. She couldn’t trust Stefano with Rachel’s care, not for a moment.
With her gown slung over one broad shoulder, he guided her into the new building that was open and spacious. Of course it would look larger since it was past hours and the employees had gone home for the day.
She gave the workstations they passed an enviable glance. New computers, new phones and ergonomic chairs that screamed comfort. But then Stefano had the money to splurge on such niceties.
Cesare had a desperately ill child to provide for. He had obligations to his family. He didn’t put money before honor!
Gemma stared out of the expansive stretch of glass windows at the sea and sighed. How different things would be if Stefano was as caring and passionate about life and family as his father was.
She would’ve found him irresistible. She may actually have given in to the desire that simmered between them, only because she would’ve found it impossible to say no.
If he was like Cesare, it would be oh so easy to fall in love with him.
But he wasn’t like his father.
Stefano was an arrogant aristocrat. No, make that an arrogant, selfish aristocrat.
Men like him didn’t marry poor working girls like her. They made them their mistresses.
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
She shook her head and bit back a bitter laugh over her errant thoughts. “I am tired. It’s been a long day.” A long trying day in his company.
“It is far from over.” He pushed into an elegantly appointed suite that was clearly his domain and draped the garment bag over a leather sofa. “If you wish to freshen up before you dress, my bagno privata is through that door.”
She flicked a glance in that direction and nodded before admiring the vista afforded from the windows again. “The view is fabulous.”
He shrugged off her observation. “It is never boring.”
How typical of the playboy who tired of things far too quickly! She trailed him across the room and through a door, anxious for him to conclude his business here.
For she’d not be able to breathe easy until she’d satisfied that first payment on the awful loan she’d been forced to admit to. Once that was over, she’d be nothing more than his secretary until Cesare returned.
He entered a smaller yet still spacious room where an elegant teak desk sat with an equally gorgeous view of the harbor.
“My personal assistant’s office.” He pointed to an inbox overflowing with envelopes. “Please sort through these and bring me the ones that need my immediate attention.”
She looked at the pile that likely had accumulated for over a week. “Of course.”
He glanced at his watch. “I’ll be back in thirty minutes.”
With that he was off, his long legs carrying his lean, enticing form through the door and out of sight.
Gemma gave the stack of correspondence a glance. It was thrice the size she handled for Cesare every day, but at least the time would pass quickly.
But before she tackled this task, she wanted to shower and be ready to leave when Stefano returned.
She walked the length of his office en route to the bagno. Again she was struck with the Spartan elegance surrounding her.
A colorful Laurus Murano vase here. An Alberto Sughi oil there. And the furnishings…They were classic and high quality.
It didn’t dawn on her that she and Stefano had similar tastes until she made to flip the lock to ensure privacy. There was none, just a simple catch on the bathroom door.
She hesitated, torn between refreshing herself with a shower and risking being caught in the nude by Stefano.
Gemma bit her lower lip and checked her watch. He wouldn’t return for nearly thirty minutes. She’d be done way before then.
Without giving herself time to change her mind, she undressed and stepped into la doccia which was certainly large enough for two.
Standing in the shower with warm water pelting her tired body was a refreshing break after a tense day. She did not want to think of Stefano, yet even as warm water pelted her tense muscles she imagined his gaze caressing her. Probing magnetic eyes that could adore and scold in turn.
It annoyed her that thoughts of him invaded her private moments. Couldn’t she block him from her mind at all?
She stepped from the shower and wrapped herself in a thick, thirsty towel that swallowed her. These had to have been specially ordered for Stefano’s big frame, and just thinking of him stripped to the skin and wet left her trembling with want.
How could she possibly desire a man she didn’t respect?
A brisk toweling and she quickly donned her new teal dress. She hated that he’d purchased it, but she loved the design. She’d never owned anything this exquisite.
How could something so simple be so sensual? She didn’t know and surely didn’t wish to project that aura around Stefano.
She’d repay him for the gown, even though it would take time. She would not be beholden to him.
Gemma quit the bathing room to find Stefano lounging in the doorway. His hot gaze roamed the length of her slowly, pausing at her mouth, her breasts and the juncture of the thighs.
Desire speared low in her belly, more intense than she’d ever felt before. She tightened her hold on the door, knowing she should look away but finding it impossible to tear her gaze from his magnetic stare.
Even the air was charged with an energy that make her skin sizzle and burn as if she’d brushed too close to the sun.
This was lust. Bold. Sensual. Tempting.
Oh, so very tempting.
And dangerous.
Stefano Marinetti was the embodiment of seductive Italian males that one read about, only on a pinnacle above the others. This was the primo playboy who always had a bevy of woman lusting after him.
She’d quickly learned that he’d refined flirting to a fine art. He could adore every inch of the woman he was with and make her feel as if she were the most desired woman in the world. As if she were the only woman in the world for him.
He was the kind of man young girls dreamed about, and the one that mammas and papas feared.
He’d take what he wanted from a woman, and toss her aside when he tired of her.
“Bella. You take my breath away.”
“Thank you,” she said, finding it difficult to breathe normally around him. “But I’m sure you’re exaggerating.”
“Not in the least.”
She didn’t know what to say to that statement. In true Italian form, he could argue fiercely one moment and revert into the flirt the next.
Now that was an image she didn’t wish to conjure up about him. But the idea was in her head and growing stronger, thanks to the sensual energy that crackled in the air, leaving her tingling from head to toe.
“I am a lucky man to have you as my dinner companion tonight,” he said.
How could he make a business dinner sound intimate? A business dinner that was a step above blackmail for her? How could he for a moment make her forget the dire importance of this night to her future?
“Shouldn’t we be leaving for Viareggio?”
“There is something I must do first, something I have wanted to do since we met.”
Stefano