Mistresses: Blackmailed For His Pleasure. Annie West
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said it made good sense to base the business there where he’d be bringing in his day’s catch, and he didn’t mind taking the train from Manarolo each morning.”
Did she honestly believe that?
In the short time he’d had to look into Gemma Cardone’s past, he’d discovered her brother strove to live the life of a playboy. His frequent visits to the Monte Carlo gaming tables were well-known, as was his debatable talent at poker.
The question was where had her brother come by his original bankroll?
Stefano doubted it was from fishing.
He suspected Gemma had fed her brother’s gambling habit with the money she’d gained from Cesare in hopes of doubling her family’s fortune. But had he been successful?
Rumor had it that Emilio Cardone had been on a losing streak of late. A destructive losing streak. What more had he sold in order to gamble?
“I do worry about Nonna,” she said, drawing his attention back to her.
There was genuine concern in her voice. While Stefano was curious what troubled her so, he refused to be moved by it.
“Why? Is your grandmother in poor health?”
She shook her head. “She seems hearty enough, but I know that my sister-in-law lets Nonna do the bulk of the work.”
“A bit of a shirker?” Like Cardone?
“She’s young and has a baby that demands her time.”
Stefano sipped his wine and let it all sink in. Around one year ago life for the Cardones had changed drastically thanks to Gemma becoming Cesare Marinetti’s secretary.
“I am curious how you came to work for my father,” he said.
She took a bite of mozzarella-topped tomato, stalling to answer he was sure. “I was in Milan attending university and we happened to meet.”
Stefano had made his fortune by his ability to read people. Right now he knew Gemma Cardone was lying through her straight pearly teeth. He suspected she was in Milan trolling for an easy victim who would support her and her worthless brother.
“Milan is a big city,” he said. “You were lucky to meet my father there, let alone be offered a job that you sought.”
“I am well aware of my good fortune,” she went on but carefully avoided meeting his eyes.
He stabbed a prosciutto-wrapped mushroom and ate it without appreciating its rich flavor.
To make Gemma suffer for the grief she had put his mamma through, all he had to do was seize control of her inn. That would be easily accomplished if she failed to make that first loan payment by midnight.
He’d own the hotel and Gemma Cardone. He would make her life hell.
The waiter returned with their main course, but Gemma showed little interest in the sumptuous meal. She sipped her orange soda and checked her watch.
The deadline was an hour away, and the calm she’d exhibited earlier was quickly fading. The frown marring her smooth brow hinted that things were not going as she’d planned.
“Is something wrong?” he asked as he refilled his wineglass, determined to remain unmoved by her growing distress.
“My brother was supposed to meet me here.”
The vintage wine threatened to sour on his tongue. How dare she invite someone to join them at dinner without consulting him!
“Why?”
Her gaze lifted to his and this time there was no mistaking the worry in their depths. “He is bringing the loan money. Would you mind if I ring him?”
He raised his glass in a mock salute and affected a smile. “Please, do.”
So this was her game. She’d claim some emergency had kept her brother from arriving on time so the loan payment would be late. He was sure she’d beg for an extension. And he was sure another minor event would prevent that payment from arriving on time. And so it would go on.
She was about to learn that he was wise to these tactics. That he couldn’t be charmed like his father. That he wasn’t an easy mark.
This was business.
He excelled at crushing deals.
He wouldn’t be moved by tears, hysterics or pleading.
If she failed to honor her part of the contract, he’d take possession of her shares of the inn and her!
“Emilio,” she said into her trim mobile phone, an urgency in her voice that lifted the hairs on his nape. Her frown deepened on a pause. “Emilio?”
She looked at Stefano, her smooth brow furrowed in a deep frown. “There must be something wrong with the connection. He answered, but then all I could hear was bells and a crush of voices in the background. Then the call just ended.”
Sounds associated with a party. Or more likely the casinos, he thought as he watched her punch in the number again with a finger that clearly trembled.
Hadn’t his friend mentioned he’d be testing his luck at a high stakes poker game tonight? It was the same one that Cardone had lost a small fortune at last week.
Time crawled before she ended the call. She looked at him with eyes swimming with concern. Such an accomplished actress!
“Emilio isn’t answering.” She brushed back her wealth of sunkissed hair with an impatient hand. “Something must be wrong.”
This was a stall tactic on her part and he’d have none of it. It was time she accepted the consequences of her own actions.
“Perhaps your brother is involved in a game.”
“Game?” she parroted.
“Poker. He’s spent long days in Monte Carlo the past week,” he said. “But his luck has deserted him and he’s down to bartering his assets to gamble.”
She went still, her face leached of color and her eyes far too huge for her gamine face. Prey. She looked like prey, and in that tense moment he was gripped by the urge to protect instead of ruin her.
Maledizione! How could she stir such emotions in him?
“No! He wouldn’t do that.”
“I assure you he has done exactly that. Two weeks ago I accepted one of his trawlers to bankroll him in a game.” An aged gas-guzzling behemoth that caused more pollution than it was worth, but Stefano gladly paid the price just to get it off the waters.
Had he known then about Gemma and her wastrel brother, he’d have stayed in the game that had soon bored him just to bring her brother down. For it was clear that Gemma had made sure that the two of them profited greatly off his papa’s largess.
That was just the reminder he needed to harden his resolve. “If I hadn’t bought the trawler then someone else would have.”
“No! Emilio can’t still be gambling,” she said, shaking her head. “There is another reason why he hasn’t arrived yet.”
Could she be that blind to the truth?
As there was a strong chance that the pigeon returned to the same gaming tables tonight to roost, he made a call on his mobile to his closest friend, drilled a finger into the speaker icon and laid the phone on the table.
“Bonjour,” came Jean Paul’s greeting.
“Ciao,” Stefano replied. “Where are you?”
“Monte Carlo,” his friend said. “Sun Casino to be precise. The high stakes poker game starts in less than an hour.”
“Do you remember the young fisherman who sold me the old trawler a couple of weeks ago?” Stefano asked and locked gazes with Gemma.
“Oui.