Untamed Italians. Janette Kenny
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 and showcased long, elegant legs that could cling to a man’s flanks as they writhed in the throes of passion. Maledizione! He didn’t want to think of seducing her.
He damned sure didn’t want to think of her doing the same to his papa. That image sent anger bolting through him with the burning intensity of a lightning strike.
Damn seductive gold-digger.
Damned beautiful gold-digger.
As soon as she was seated, he began. “I want to know what business my father and you conducted in Milan for the past nine months.”
She went still as death, fixing those expressive blue eyes on him again. Her small fingers tightened around the edge of her notepad and her back stiffened, as if ready to defend something that wasn’t defendable. “That is between me and your father.”
“Not anymore,” he said, gaining satisfaction in watching her glare at him as if he were in the wrong—the guilty always tried to divert attention away from themselves. “I hold majority shares in Marinetti Shipyard. The profits and debts are now mine to manage.”
She blinked and the steel in her spine seemed to bow, as if burdened by that news. “Are you actually taking over your papa’s company?”
“My plans are not open to discussion,” he said. “We were discussing your role in my father’s life.”
The color drained from her face. “I told you I’m his personal secretary.”
He snorted. She must think him as gullible as his papa.
“Were you aware that my father is nearly bankrupt?” he said.
Her face turned as white as marble. “I—I knew he was having financial difficulties of late.”
“Yet you continued to take thousands of euros from him every month, even though he could ill afford such lavish gifts.”
“It wasn’t a gift.” She pressed her lips together and downed her head, convincing him of her guilt but not her remorse.
“Then what was it, Miss Cardone? Payment for services rendered?”
Her head snapped up and her eyes sparked with indignation and some other emotion he couldn’t quite put his finger on. “How dare you think that I— That Cesare and I were more than friends.”
“Do not lie to me, Miss Cardone.”
“I’m telling you the truth. Cesare is a dear friend and my employer. Nothing more.”
He pressed his palms on the desk when he longed to grasp her narrow shoulders and shake the truth from her. “Where the hell did the money go? You certainly haven’t spent it on designer clothes or a fancy apartment.”
“How would you know?”
“I’ve seen the small flat you live in and rent.” He snorted. “You don’t even own a car. Look at me!” he commanded when she looked away. “I want the truth. Why was my father giving you thousands of euros every month on top of your salary?”
She trembled the slightest bit, like a hare cornered by the wolf. “It was a loan.”
“A loan,” he repeated, and she bobbed her head.
It was a lie. He was sure of it. But he didn’t hold any hope that she’d divulge her secrets. Not yet anyway.
“What are the terms of your loan?” he asked, forcing a lighter tone with her now.
She blinked and her soft mouth parted slightly. Could it be she hadn’t thought that for every loan there was an agreement of repayment?
She shifted uneasily on the chair and looked everywhere but at him. “It was interest free for the first nine months, so I’ve not actually made a payment. Cesare agreed that I could wait until the inn was making a modest profit.”
This time it was his turn to frown, for his hasty investigation of her revealed she was the daughter of a fisherman from Cinque Terre. Her only family was a grandmother who lived in Manarolo, and a brother who had a weakness for gambling.
He’d been unaware that she owned property, but the fact it was a business raised his suspicions.
“What inn?” he asked, careful to keep his tone casual.
“My family’s inn in Manarolo.” Her eyes blazed with such passion that his own anger cooled for a heartbeat. “It has been in my family for generations, passing from mother to daughter. Since my mamma died long ago, my nonna and I own it. But it was falling into disrepair. I’ve refurbished much of it with the money Cesare loaned me. It is beginning to do quite well with tourists.”
As well it should, since she’d likely poured a small fortune into the restoration of it. Money that was drained from his father’s business!
“Your nine months are up,” he said. “Where is your contract so I may review the loan details?”
“Cesare and I had a verbal agreement. He never got around to deciding on a monthly cost I could afford.”
“Then I must remedy that for my father,” he said, and had the satisfaction of seeing a damning flush steal over her pale cheeks. “I’ll have Umberto draw up the papers. Can we agree on payment in full within three months with the first installment due the first of the month?”
Her lush lips thinned and he saw a second’s uncertainty flicker in her eyes. “Yes, of course.”
She agreed far too quickly. More than likely she’d been salting the excess money away. Possibly she’d invested it and could pay back the loan in due time.
But there was the possibility she thought to disappear and then he’d be cheated of his vengeance.
He couldn’t let that happen. He had to hold her to their agreement and he knew of only one thing she seemed to prize above everything.
“For collateral, I’ll hold your half of the inn until the loan is repaid in full,” he said.
“No!” The worry lines deepening on her brow proved she didn’t like that idea at all.
“Do you have something else you can put up in its place? Something of similar value?”
“No, nothing,” she said.
“Then we have a deal?”
“Yes,” she said, though it was more a hiss.
Though Stefano Marinetti prided himself on being a passionate lover, he excelled at coming out on top in any business transaction he entered into.
This was cold, hard business.
Still, his fingers curled around hers, gauging the strength of the delicate bones