Innocent in the Italian's Possession

by Janette Kenny

  “You are in a rare mood,” Gemma said after the waiter took himself off.

  Stefano shrugged off the comment as usual, and it occurred to her that he wasn’t comfortable with praise. “I am always at peace once I’ve made a major decision.”

  “Does this means you have changed your mind regarding Rachel?” she asked.

  “That is as it should be for now.”

  For now. She clung to those two words and hoped that he would concede soon. That he’d welcome Rachel into his life and his home.

  “Then what is your major decision?”

  “This business between you and me.”

  Her heart pounded too hard and too fast. He must mean he’d finalized the contract.

  Thirty days of uninhibited sex for the title to the inn. An inn that was in serious need of repair. An inn that wasn’t worth a fraction of the money Stefano had paid for it.

  He poured them both champagne, his movements slow and sure. He’d taken his suit jacket off and rolled up the sleeves of his stark white shirt.

  The contrast between dark and light had never seemed so intense as she watched his shirt pull taut over the dark olive hue of his forearms that seemed darker thanks to the dusting of crisp black hair.

  Just thinking of the erotic brush of his limbs and chest against her bare body had her trembling with desire. Her mouth went dry and warmth expanded between her thighs.

  Tell him! Get it out in the open so there are no more secrets. But she couldn’t find the words. Or maybe she simply couldn’t find the courage.

  For once he learned he’d been duped, he might tear up her contract this time. He’d likely send her packing well before her thirty days were up.

  He sipped his champagne, his eyes taking on a gleam that sent her blood racing. “It is up to you if you leave Marinetti.” He leaned forward and captured her startled gaze with his, her mind numb with confusion and her body too relaxed from the champagne. “I need a personal assistant to accompany me for the foreseeable future. I need you, bella.”

  Three words she’d longed to hear. “What about the contract?”

  “To hell with it! The inn is yours,” he said, surprising her again. “What you’ve done for my sister doesn’t even come close to what my family owes you.”

  “I told you I didn’t expect payment for that.”

  He made a slashing motion with his hand, dismissing her words. “You are efficient and smart and beautiful and you have nothing to keep you from traveling with me on business. Of course, I will triple the salary you are earning now.”

  Always money with him. He was used to buying what he wanted when he wanted it. And wasn’t that what he was trying to do with her? Buy her compliance?

  It was a given they’d remain lovers, for how could she be in this man’s company and not fall into bed with him? Would he come to love her in time?

  Then there was the money he offered. Money she desperately needed to make the necessary repairs to the inn.

  “Well, caro?” he asked and held up his flute. “Do we have reason to celebrate?”

  She swallowed hard and knew that there would be no turning back if she agreed to his demands. Her gaze lifted to his and she quaked at the desire blazing in his eyes.

  Her lover. Her love.

  A smile trembled on her lips. “I accept.”

  His full mouth pulled into a sensuous smile. He clinked his glass to hers, the picture of a man who had just gotten what he wanted.

  “To our new association,” he said.

  “To us,” she said, and knew that there was no turning back now.

  Stefano lounged in the back of the limo with Gemma cradled to his side. For the first time in ages he felt content.

  He had no doubt that Gemma would do a fantastic job seeing to his personal needs—outside of bed as well as in it.

  At this point in his life he needed someone he could trust to be there for him anytime of the day or night.

  “Is that the harbor ahead?” she asked.

  “Sì. I called ahead and had the yacht brought to port.”

  She smiled and snuggled closer to him. “I dreaded that drive back to Viareggio tonight.”

  “As did I,” he said. “I would prefer returning in comfort.”

  He trailed a hand down the smooth length of her arm, marveling at the silken texture of her skin and the hint of floral scent that teased his senses.

  The tremor that streaked through her stroked his desire up another notch. He couldn’t get her into bed soon enough!

  Yet the ride from the dock to his yacht seemed endless. The cool breeze from the water failed to refresh him, either.

  He wanted Gemma. Now that she’d agreed to be his assistant, he couldn’t think of anything else but satisfying this raw hunger she awakened in him.

  The walk from the mini harbor of his yacht to his stateroom seemed miles away tonight. Her light floral scent drifted in the passageway while the quick clip of her steps on marble sent blood pounding in his veins.

  He pushed into his stateroom lit only by the muted accent lights. It was enough to see by and complemented the sultry beat humming through his blood.

  “Bella,” he said, turning her in his arms and kissing her.

  She welcomed him with open arms and sultry kisses, her tongue dueling with his in perfect tandem while her body moved against his with just enough hesitation to stroke his ego.

  He gladly would lead in this for he knew what would give them both supreme pleasure. What stunned him was this odd sense that this was all new for him as well.

  A novelty? He didn’t know.

  Right now he didn’t give a damn about whys and hows. Her small hands did a slow crawl up his arms to send a new fire-storm of need coursing through him.

  He fumbled with the fastening of her clothes, something that he usually dealt with, with ease. But this task was made more challenging because he could not bear to take his mouth from hers. He didn’t want to be parted from her for a second.

  She tasted of champagne and sizzling desire. Her body writhed against his in silent demand and he was eager to comply.

  She responded so genuinely to each stroke, each kiss, that his own head pulsed with the promise of intense pleasure. Yet the clothes that still clung to her deprived him of exploring her at his leisure.

  He set her away and began to strip her to the skin, hating the restriction of his clothes as well, hating to forestall the inevitable. “You drive me wild with desire.”

  She smiled a siren’s smile and flicked the clasp at her shoulder, releasing the slinky dress without effort. It glided down her body to pool at her feet.

  His breath caught as golden light kissed the upper swells of her breasts, caressed her rounded hips and skimmed the dusky hair between her thighs.

  “You are beautiful,” he said.

  “So are you,” she said and his ego swelled along with his obvious desire for her.

  And why wouldn’t he when she stared at him with blatant appreciation? His skin felt too tight and his blood too hot to draw a decent breath, for she didn’t posture and preen. She did nothing but stand before him beautifully naked while her gaze boldly caressed every inch of him.

  It was another first for him, for the majority of his lovers had been intent on showing off their charms. Not so for Gemma.

  She was as perfectly sculpted as the goddess of love. There was no artifice or trickery in her. Why hadn’t he seen it before?

  Because his mamma had believed her husband was being unfaithful and he’d not looked beyond that. He’d accepted her word that her marriage was failing.

  Her demand for vengeance had nearly cost him the only woman he’d ever loved. Loved?

  It couldn’t be love, yet what else explained his obsession with her? The blinding jealousy when he thought of her lying in another man’s arms. The sense of wholeness that encompassed him when he sank into her welcoming heat.

  She was his lover—only his!—and she’d be his for as long as he w
ished. She’d been loyal to a fault with his father, holding the secrets he’d begged her to keep.

  Stefano wanted that loyalty himself. He wanted Gemma to be his assistant, his confident, his lover.

  Marriage?

  He pushed that thought aside. He was not ready to commit to that yet. No, he needed to be sure that her affections were genuine. That she’d come to him because she couldn’t bear to be apart from him, either.

  That her claim to want him for himself and not his money wasn’t a lie.

  “Mio amante,” he said, savoring the silken glide of her skin beneath his lips as he trailed kisses down the slender column of her throat. “Mio amore.”

  The seductive sigh that whispered from her swelled his ego and his groin. “I love you.”

  His body jolted, his heart skipping a beat at her avowal of love. He’d had lovers say them before. But he’d never heard the truth in them until now. He’d never believed there was such power in three words until they tumbled from Gemma’s lush lips.

  Of course she’d expect the same from him.

  He loved her body. Loved her courage. Loved her loyalty. But as for this profession of his heart?

  Stefano couldn’t voice the lie. He wouldn’t deceive her in this. He’d learned the hard way to guard his heart.

  “This is just the beginning,” he breathed before he sank into her and made them one.

  She responded with sweet passion, her fingernails marking his back as her muscles clutched at him. There was no greed or artifice in her lovemaking, either.

  She gave fully and he returned the passion with more tenderness than he’d known himself capable of.

  Completion.

  That was how it felt being with her.

  It was a sensation that he looked forward to enjoying often. But he didn’t delude himself into thinking it would last.

  That would be a rarity.

  That would mean he’d finally found the woman for him.

  That would mean he could trust her fully and forever.

  If he couldn’t do that, then this passionate interlude with Gemma was just that. A stolen moment in time.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  GEMMA lay snuggled against Stefano’s side, sated by his passion for now and lulled by the steady beat of his heart. She’d never thought to experience this deep emotional attachment to a man, especially so soon after meeting him.

  To think that a short week ago she’d thought the very worst of him. She had thought him cold and calculating and callous. She’d thought him incapable of any tender emotions.

  Now she was certain that he hid those softer traits from the world. Just the stroke of his finger brought her to extreme pleasure or tears of joy.

  She wasn’t one to cry—she’d cried out her tears long ago when her mother had been dying and she had blamed herself for not coming forward sooner. She’d vowed she’d give of herself again if she was fortunate to have the opportunity to save a life.

  When that moment came, she hadn’t hesitated going through the tests and the procedure for a stranger. She’d do it again if she could.

  But though her heart had gone out to those in need, she’d never given so emotionally until she found herself in Stefano’s arms.

  She’d never known love until now.

  He shifted, and just that slight brush of skin on skin was a seductive caress that stroked her desire awake again. It seemed unreal that she wanted more of what they’d shared not once but four times tonight.

  It stunned her that she’d totally lost her heart to Stefano Marinetti. They were worlds apart, yet they’d found a common ground. Or was it just passion that bound them together?

  She didn’t like hearing that voice of doubt in her head. No man could make love to her with such tenderness and compassion if his heart wasn’t involved.

  And what about the job he had created just for her?

  Hadn’t he done that so they could spend the bulk of their time together? Wasn’t that a clear sign that he wanted her to be a big part of his life?

  As his mistress, not as his wife.

  She grimaced at that, for she feared it hit too closely to the truth she didn’t want to face.

  Personal assistant had a far more respectable ring to it than paid consort.

  Besides, if Stefano only wanted her as his mistress, he’d have said so. He wouldn’t have created a mock position for her within his company.

  No, the job was as real as the man. This was a sign he trusted her to manage his personal affairs. That had to include his family. And if it didn’t? If she was just seeing what she wanted to see?

  “What brought this troubled frown to your face?” he asked, placing a kiss on one eye and then another in a gesture so tender it brought tears to her eyes.

  “I was thinking about family.”

  “There is not room for family in our bed, caro,” he said, the nip he gave her chin releasing a deeper need in her.

  She lifted her face to protest this sensual assault that was muddling her thoughts. Their lips clung in one long, delicious kiss that blotted everything from her mind but him. It was so easy to fall into his arms and forget the world.

  But she fought against the drugging effects of his desire and pulled from him. “We need to talk, Stefano.”

  He grumbled and rolled onto his back, tossing one arm across his eyes. “Talk is the last thing I wish to do now.”

  Yes, one glance at his beautifully aroused body told her what he wanted—what he needed from her. “I hope that you will realize Rachel should live with you.”

  His muscular body tensed. Even the air seemed more charged than before as unease pinged over her bare skin to mock her nakedness. She’d bared all to him, even her soul. Yet he’d still held a part back from her.

  “We have been over this before, bella,” he said. “If my father had wanted the world to know about Rachel he would have exposed her long ago. Instead he kept her tucked away in Milan where she is safe from a world she is ill-equipped to cope with.”

  She pulled the sheet around her, chilled by his refusal to consider a change of plans. “At first, yes, when her condition was so fragile. But Cesare did have a change of heart!”

  She knew the moment the words popped out that there was no going back. The tension she’d sensed in him throbbed between them.

  He sat up in one fluid motion. Though he looked semirelaxed, she knew that he could pounce on her in the blink of an eye.

  “When?” he asked in that low, dangerous tone that skimmed along her nerves to leave her chilled.

  For all the deep intimacies they’d just shared, she felt as if her soul was exposed. The fear of revealing everything only to incur his fury tempted her to lie, but there had been too many lies and half-truths between them already.

  “The last Saturday we visited Rachel, Cesare told me that he wanted to bring her home,” she said, beginning slowly so she could emotionally feel her way thorough this confession.

  “To Viareggio.”

  If it were that simple… “To his house.”

  “Mamma would never have allowed that to happen!”

  “Few women would welcome their husband’s love child,” she said. “But he was determined to make her see reason.”

  She dreaded to imagine the bitter words that had been volleyed between Cesare and his wife when he’d confessed his infidelity and then declared that he’d fathered a daughter that he wished to ensconce in their home. No wonder he’d suffered a heart attack!

  “It is beyond the scope of reason why he would ask such a thing of my mother.”

  “Family,” she said, stating the obvious. “He wanted his children united. He wanted his family whole.”

  “A wasted effort,” Stefano said. “Mamma wasn’t the forgiving sort.”

  “Like you?”

  “Yes, like me.”

  “Then why are you insisting on managing Rachel’s care when Cesare entrusted her to me?”

  He whirled on her then, eyes snapping ang
er and something that bordered on vulnerability. “She is a Marinetti.”

  She threw her hands in the air, having come full circle in this argument with him. “You assert that she’s family yet you don’t want her in your life. That isn’t fair to her, Stefano, and it isn’t what Cesare wants.”

  He snorted and sat up, his long legs dangling over the edge of the bed and his broad, muscular back racked with tension. Every tender touch, each kiss, seemed as if it happened a lifetime ago instead of mere minutes.

  “It is clear that my father spared no expense to hire a bambinaia and provide a safe home for my sister,” he said. “So why the change of heart? When did he come to this decision to insert Rachel into his home?”

  “He spoke of it often after Rachel’s last visit to the doctor.” In fact Cesare had been obsessed with the idea of having his daughter near him.

  Stefano crossed to the window and peered out, and the setting sun poured through the window to dust his muscular frame in rose-gold. Her heart seized at the sight, for not one statue of a god in all of Italy could compare to his potent masculinity and rugged male beauty.

  “Every time you and Papa went to Milan, my mamma would call me and complain bitterly of his infidelity.”

  “Why didn’t she confront him?” she asked.

  One bronzed shoulder lifted in a shrug. “An affair or two is expected in a marriage.”

  “I wouldn’t be tolerant of infidelity,” she said, needled by the sudden sting of jealousy at the thought of sharing Stefano with another woman.

  “Nor would I,” he admitted, surprising her. “I am faithful to my lover and demand the same.”

  She slipped from the bed and crossed to him, refusing to think that this synergy she shared with him would come to an end. “I’d never betray you.”

  “Bella.” He brushed a finger over her lips that still trembled from his possession, lips that quivered from holding back the last truth that seemed too large and ugly to reveal. “It was for the best that Mamma never knew about Rachel.”

  She sucked in a ragged breath and met his slumberous eyes, knowing that what she had to say would turn his eyes black with disapproval again. But she couldn’t continue to keep secrets between them, not now.