Untamed Italians. Janette Kenny

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       CHAPTER FOUR

      STEFANO guided Gemma to his Alfa Romeo, the sleek silver contours of the 8C Competizione glistening like a diamond in the setting sun. But the luxurious car paled in comparison to the flaxen-haired beauty on his arm.

      He suspected the tension he felt eddying off her petite form came from her aversion at being forced to remain in his company. Guilt. It had to be guilt on her part, for he was a generous man who had simply stepped in to manage his father’s business.

      Women loved him. He loved women.

      But he detested manipulative primadonne.

      Gemma Cardone definitely fit that description indeed. She’d charmed Cesare Marinetti into her bed and took him for thousands.

      So far she hadn’t attempted to get in Stefano’s good graces. In fact, she’d seemed horrified over assuming the role of his secretary. Had he been right and she’d thought to flee instead of repaying her “loan”?

      How easily lies spilled from her pretty mouth. There’d been no loan, yet she’d said there was instead of admitting the truth of being his father’s mistress.

      Perhaps she realized that he wouldn’t be an easy mark like Cesare Marinetti. Or maybe she was wily enough to avoid an overture because she knew he’d not accept his father’s leavings.

      Then again perhaps neither of those reasons applied.

      In hindsight, Stefano had stormed into Marinetti Shipping with one thing on his mind—retaliation. Instead of portraying himself in his typical charming manner, he’d been brusque and demanding. What woman would want to warm the bed of such a tyrant?

      His only excuse was that his heart was still heavy over his mamma’s passing while his blood roared with the need for vengeance. Why had his father’s heart failed when he had been driving with his wife? Why hadn’t that attack occurred on one of those trips to Milan?

      Why had his mamma died instead of this scheming mistress?

      There was no answer. He knew that. Quel che è stato è stato.

      It was his duty to protect his father against Gemma’s schemes and honor what was his mamma’s last wish. Get rid of Gemma Cardone!

      That was the only interest he had with his father’s mistress. He did not wish to gain her favor. So why had she wormed her way into his thoughts for most of this day with her big sad eyes and wary smile? Why was she commanding his attention now? Why did his body leap whenever she was near?

      Maledizione! He didn’t give a damn what Gemma thought about him. She’d gotten all she could for herself.

      Now he’d see she paid back a portion of the debt. Once his revenge was sated, he’d fire her. She’d be nothing then but an unpleasant memory.

      Sì, it was up to Stefano to rebuild the empire his father had once loved and allow him to heal and cope with his grief. He’d systematically collect what was due Marinetti Shipyard and ensure that Gemma Cardone never approached a Marinetti again.

      Pride and honor. He understood both well. He lived by that silent code.

      Yet when Gemma slid onto the supple leather seat and gave him a teasing glimpse of long, creamy thighs, his body jerked with a sudden bolt of lust. And why wouldn’t he find her attractive?

      He was a hot-blooded Italian male and she was a provocative woman. He loved and respected women. He loved to make love to them. He ached to make love with this one!

      Though he could neither respect nor like Gemma for the heartache she’d brought his family, she did appeal to him on a purely physical level.

      Okay, maybe it was more than that. He was moderately impressed СКАЧАТЬ