Untamed Italians: Innocent in the Italian's Possession / Italian Tycoon, Secret Son / Italian Marriage: In Name Only. Kathryn RossЧитать онлайн книгу.
disappearing as well. The same could be said for the good men like her father and Cesare, too.
She had felt comfortable with Cesare from the start. He had been the friend she could talk with about her deepest fears. He listened. He applauded her bravery and her compassion.
She loved him. Respected him. She’d do all she could to protect him.
But who would protect her from Stefano Marinetti and his smoldering sensuality?
Stefano pulled his car into a slot and tossed her a teasing look that was at odds with his earlier pique. His rapier fire switch in emotions kept her on edge. That was likely just what he wanted to do.
After all, she was a very small fish in a big sea and he was the whale who could swallow her whole.
“We have much to do in a short period of time,” he said as he unfolded his long, lean form from the car then collected the bags the designer had given him.
He must expect her to change clothes here. What she wouldn’t give for a shower!
“I assume you have a list you wish me to attend to,” she said as she quit the car, not about to wait for him to open her door.
The deep crease between his eyes hinted he disliked her independence. “Most of the daily duties have been seen to by my staff here. All that is left for you to do is retrieve messages and see to the necessary correspondence.”
Typical secretarial duties that anyone could have seen to during the day, including a temp. It hadn’t been necessary for him to drag her along. No, there was another reason why he’d monopolized her time. She feared it had something to do with Cesare and her part in his life.
If he’d only spent time with his dear father these past years he wouldn’t be left in the dark now! But he’d made his decision to leave the family business and the division cost Cesare untold grief for he’d lost not just one child but two. One had been the result of an accident. The other had been an intentional separation from the family—a split that was nearly unheard of in Italy.
Here sons and often daughters carried on the family tradition generation after generation. It had been the way for her family, with Emilio taking over their papa’s fishing business while she would one day inherit the old inn in Manarolo.
This passing of power was how it should have been with Stefano Marinetti. When his brother died, he should have assumed that role within the company.
But he’d walked out on his father.
He’d shunned tradition and his famiglia.
And what did that say about the man who held his family in so little regard?
He was self-absorbed. Stefano seemed to care for one thing—himself.
Now he was in charge of Marinetti. He’d likely change a company that was steeped in tradition. All to leave his indelible mark.
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?
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