Untamed Italians: Innocent in the Italian's Possession / Italian Tycoon, Secret Son / Italian Marriage: In Name Only. Kathryn Ross
for Stefano, he damn sure couldn’t let a gold-digger bankrupt his father’s company! However, a car wreck one week ago had taken his mamma’s life and had nearly done the same to his papa. There had been no time to think about righting the wrong until now.
He splayed his hands on the desk and felt his blood pounding at his fingertips. Two things topped his agenda: Get Marinetti Shipping back on track and send Gemma Cardone packing.
His muscles clenched in anger—and desire—as he thought of her seducing his papa out of so much. Too much to let her get off easy.
His papa must have been over the moon for her. And why wouldn’t he?
She was more tempting than he’d imagined. Despite knowing what she was, he’d been powerless to stop the desire that had erupted inside him and flowed hotter than lava off volatile Mount Etna.
Hotter still than the Sicilian blood inherited from his mamma that demanded the satisfaction of vengeance and desire. He could hold a tight fist on his explosive anger, but he was powerless to control his desire for Gemma, and that admission angered him all the more.
No woman had ever had that much power over him. Not even the young gorgeous lover he’d brought home from college. He’d been unsure of the depth of his love for her. He’d questioned her profession of love for him.
But he hadn’t realized she’d been a gold-digger until she had seduced his brother. How ironic that she’d have had more wealth had she remained with Stefano.
It was a hard lesson learned. He’d not be duped again—especially by his father’s mistress!
Maledizione! She’d caused his mother untold grief, and made a fool of his papa. She’d not do the same to him.
But even as his heart thundered with the need for retribution, he knew a swift punishment wasn’t enough. No, Gemma Cardone should be made to suffer as his mamma has suffered the last few weeks of her life.
He strode to the window and stared out at the shipyard that had been in his family for generations. Marinettis had made their mark in quality ships, thanks to the seafaring men of Italy and the Mediterranean. Fishermen needed boats and ports needed ferries.
Like his papa and grandpapa before him, Cesare had embraced that simple prescription for success. He saw no reason to deviate or expand.
Stefano did. He had dreams of a bigger empire. A larger, cleaner international empire.
He’d wanted to build eco-friendly vessels. Sailboats, ferries, trawlers and d’elite superyachts. Ships that would rule the seas yet not destroy the fragile environment.
The superyacht would be the starship of his company. Floating pleasure palaces for the ultrarich, each custom made to suit discerning tastes.
His papa thought his idea was an adulteration of the principles of the company. They had butted heads. They had argued fiercely as only Italians do.
His papa insisted they were shipbuilders for Italians. Cesare was a millionaire and was content to move in that circle, refusing to cater to the whims of the ultrarich. He expected Stefano to fall into step with him just as his brother Davide had adhered to the niche Marinetti had carved for itself.
In fact, he and his brother had clashed the hardest. Over business, and the woman who’d come between them.
Stefano couldn’t or wouldn’t comply, not when he was nothing more than the second son in charge of menial tasks. Not when his papa refused to consider his ideas, preferring to adhere to the routine that he and Davide had hammered into place. Not when he had to watch his former lover’s belly grow with his brother’s child.
His heart hadn’t been broken, but his pride had surely been kicked hard.
Stefano didn’t regret leaving this old-world business mired in old-world attitudes. He’d made his fortune and continued to build on it. He’d made a name for himself. But it hurt his pride that his papa hadn’t praised his business sense or his daring once in the past five years.
He rested his fists on the windowsill, the wood as unyielding as his papa. Pride and honor ran deep in his veins.
One kept him away, even after the tragic death of his brother and his family.
One brought him back.
He flicked another impatient glance at the connecting door. Marinetti Shipyard had operated the same for years, making a profit that had allowed his papa to maintain his millionaire status. But all that had changed one year ago.
That’s when his papa had hired Gemma Cardone. That’s when his papa had begun spending more time with her in Milan than at his shipyard. That’s when thousands upon thousands of euros had vanished.
Stefano returned to the desk and lounged in the chair from which his papa had ruled for so long. He opened the file his accountant had assembled and welcomed the bite of anger nipping along his nerves.
He abhorred deceit. Gemma had smoothly deceived his papa.
She deserved to be treated in kind.
He jabbed the intercom button. “Join me, Gemma. Now.”
“Yes, sir.” Was there a touch of annoyance in her voice?
It pleased him that she was peeved to be at his beck and call. He wanted her to finally earn her paycheck by actually working.
She stepped inside and faltered, her pen and notepad clutched tightly in hand again. “What do you want?”
Due compensation. His blood heated, his muscles tightening as his gaze slid over her curves. You, bella. I want you.
This carnal attraction to her annoyed the hell out of him. He favored sophisticated women who wanted nothing more than a physical relationship. He had neither the time nor patience to suffer manipulative women.
Never mind the fact that Gemma Cardone stared back at him with a wide-eyed vulnerability that made his mouth go dry. He had the proof that she was a schemer, out to get all she could out of his papa. She’d certainly achieved that end!
He wouldn’t be surprised if she hoped to lure him into her silken trap as well. That would never happen.
She would not seduce him as she had Cesare Marinetti. It would be a waste of her time to use her wiles on him for he was immune to such machinations.
He meant to give her tempting body a dismissing look, but found himself appreciating the way her silk blouse draped over her full breasts. How her skirt nipped in at her slender waist only to flare over her womanly hips.
His muscles tensed and blood pooled in his groin just at the thought of pressing her back on his desk and making love with her. He curled his fingers into fists and pressed the knuckles into the wood, vexed that his body was still not listening to his brain where she was concerned.
Perhaps he’d be wise to sever all ties with Gemma Cardone now. He could certainly afford to replace his papa’s lost fortune.
He’d be free of this temptation and could devote his attention to the shipyard.
But a swift dismissal would let her off scot-free to practice her duplicity on another victim. Word would quickly spread that Cesare and Stefano Marinetti were easy marks.
No, he had to make an example of her. He had to venerate his mamma’s cry for vengeance. He couldn’t let Gemma Cardone get away with such duplicity.
His gaze narrowed on the mistress who seemed too damned poised.
Sì, too much pride and honor was at stake to sweep this nasty business under the rug. He had to publicly ruin this little schemer. The sooner, the better.
Stefano waved a hand at the chair before his desk, impatient to get this unpleasantness finished. She hesitated in the doorway a heartbeat before quickly crossing the room.
His pulse began racing as his gaze lingered on the brief skirt that hugged her thighs