The Billionaires' Club: Return of Her Italian Duke (The Billionaire’s Club) / Bound to Her Greek Billionaire (The Billionaire’s Club) / Whisked Away by Her Sicilian Boss (The Billionaire’s Club). Rebecca Winters
listening?
“You can put me on probation, Gemma. If I make one mistake, you can leave immediately, no questions asked. If at the end of the three months you still want to leave, you’ll receive impeccable recommendations and be given a generous severance package of your choosing.”
“Why would you enter into an arrangement like that when you know how I feel?”
“Because your expertise as a pastry chef is unparalleled. My partners will be bitterly disappointed to learn that you’ve refused the position because you can’t forgive me for my past sins.”
“It’s not a matter of forgiveness. The trust is gone.”
Vincenzo couldn’t take this much longer. “They trust me. You have to understand that I asked them to go into business with me. But for me they wouldn’t be here. Not only my integrity, but their financial lives and reputations are on the line. Like me, they want our business venture to work.”
“As you told me earlier, you have three other applicants eager to work there.”
“My friends don’t want anyone else and are convinced that with everything we’ve put in place including your cooking, we’ll succeed beyond our wildest dreams. I know we will, because I grew up on your mother’s delicacies that you’ve perfected. You have no equal, Gemma.”
“Please leave.”
“I only have one more thing to say. You don’t have to make a decision this very minute. I’m on my way back to Milan.” I’ve got to stop and see Dimi. He wasn’t going to believe Gemma had been found.
“Gemma? If you don’t show up for your first orientation meeting with rest of the staff the day after tomorrow, then I’ll tell my partners you found you couldn’t accept the position after all because of a family emergency at the bakery. Naturally we’ll choose one of the other pastry chef finalists.”
She still said nothing.
His pain had reached its zenith. “Arrivederci, tesoro.”
* * *
Gemma gasped. The night in his bedroom when they’d been wrapped in each other’s arms, he’d called her his treasure. While her world spun in reaction to that endearment, she watched out the window. His car traveled down the street until she couldn’t see him anymore.
Surely to accept his offer would mean that she had no self-control, that all he had to do was summon her in his inimitable, seductive way and she’d come running.
What else could she expect when Vincenzo’s immoral father and uncle had been his role models? He might not think he could ever behave as they’d done, but the precedent had been set for decades. Once he married a princess and had children, the need for distraction would come.
With business enterprises on either side of the Atlantic, he’d have ample opportunities to be with women his wife wouldn’t know about. Or would pretend not to know about. Who better than the adoring daughter of the former cook to fill the position as one of his mistresses and provide him amusement during secret getaways when he was in Italy?
Gemma, unmarried and childless, wouldn’t have a life while she waited for those moments of rapture with him. Little by little his need for her would grow more infrequent while she went on getting older and more unfulfilled. Over the centuries, women of the lower class had done as much in order to be with the titled men they’d loved, but Gemma refused to be one of them!
She’d been afraid he’d break her down with words like this. Somehow he was succeeding despite her determination not to listen or be moved. Tears dripped from her eyes while she called Filippa, who’d just come out of a bad relationship.
Her friend knew Gemma’s history. When she heard Vincenzo was back in Gemma’s life, she cried out in shock. For the next hour Gemma told her everything.
Before they hung up, Filippa asked her one salient question. “Did he ever do anything in his past that caused you not to trust him until the day when you learned he had disappeared?”
“No. But we’re grown up now, and he’s the duca. I can’t see our lives together in any way, shape or form.”
“From what you’ve told me, he hasn’t asked for more than a three-month probationary period to help him get their restaurant off the ground. He wants you to have this position because you were the top applicant. Naturally he wants to make it up to you for leaving without an explanation.”
“I know.”
“Remember that he said he needed to make money and couldn’t let his father find out his plans. That sounds like a strong reason for what he did. And don’t forget he said he looked for you over all these years. So what more can he do to make you feel any better? You did sign on with them in good faith, and they did, too.”
Gemma sniffed. Put that way, there was no argument. “You’re right.”
“If I were you, I’d agree to his offer. He promised to leave you alone away from work, and he would be a fool if he reneges. Just think, Gemma—the opportunity to be the head pastry chef there will give you entrée anywhere in the world when you leave. With a five-star recommendation, you’ll have carte blanche with whichever wonderful restaurant in France you’d like and you could realize your dream.”
Filippa made it sound possible, even easy. But she’d never met Vincenzo Gagliardi and had no comprehension of the man Gemma had always loved. Every day of those three months she worked at the castello, she’d be in agony thinking about him, desiring him. Was he on the premises, or was he in New York? How soon would the media reveal breaking news about the fiercely handsome, dashing Duca di Lombardi coming back home? Which gorgeous princess would be the one to catch his eye and become his bride and the mother of his children?
“Gemma? Are you still there?”
She blinked away the moisture. “Yes, of course. I was deep in thought. Sorry.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“I’m not sure, but I love you for listening to me and helping me sort through my pain.”
“You’ve done the same thing for me too many times to count. I’ve got to go right now. Let me know what you finally decide.”
“I will. Ciao, Filippa.”
“Ciao, amica.”
While Gemma fixed herself an omelet, she reran their conversation over in her mind. By the time she went to bed, her pragmatic side had taken over. She needed a job and had been offered one that would make her the envy of everyone at her school. There was no way she could turn down his offer.
When she gave her mother the news, she’d tell her it was only for a three-month period. But she’d wait to tell her mamma anything until Mirella got back from her vacation. By then Gemma would have lined up another job so that when the three months were up, they’d leave Lombardi and the castello behind.
With a top recommendation, she would be set up to find a great restaurant in the South of France that would hire her. In time she could accrue enough savings to put down roots.
Gemma had dreamed of buying a little villa in Vence or Grasse with a garden and some fruit trees overlooking the Mediterranean. She’d won an award for her jam. Since her mother would be living with her, maybe they’d make their own and sell it locally. Anything could happen. Filippa had made her see that.
For now she would have to trust Vincenzo to keep their bargain. As she’d told her friend, she’d trusted Vincenzo in the past. It would be her own fault if she couldn’t remain strong and stay away from him.
* * *
Grateful for her friend’s advice, she woke up early the next morning and got busy house cleaning. When her mother and aunt returned from England, they’d find the place spotless. At four that afternoon, she left with her large suitcase and went down the steps to her car parked in the alley. It was best her cousin didn’t