The Billionaires' Club: Return of Her Italian Duke (The Billionaire’s Club) / Bound to Her Greek Billionaire (The Billionaire’s Club) / Whisked Away by Her Sicilian Boss (The Billionaire’s Club)

Cut to the quick, he let go of her hands and got to his feet. “This duca won’t be a duca much longer. Enjoy the rest of your evening, bellissima.”

He flew out of her flat to his car. As he accelerated down the road, he could hear her calling to him in the distance, but he didn’t stop. After believing that telling her the truth would make them free to love each other as man and wife, the opposite had happened.

A duca doesn’t wed the cook. The words that came out of her had been so cold, it frightened him. He felt as if the bottom had dropped out of his world once more. But by the time he’d pulled up to the front of the castello, his sanity had returned.

Vincenzo should have been ready for that automatic response—after all, Gemma had learned it from her mother at a very early age. He’d known how Mirella had always tried to guide Gemma and put distance between them because they were from different classes. But tonight his heart had been so full, he couldn’t take the answer she’d thrown back at him.

The class divide was a more serious obstacle to a future with her than anything else. He planned to deal with that issue soon, but first he needed to leave for New York and take care of vital business. When he returned, he’d be able to concentrate on Gemma and their future. Because they were going to have one!

* * *

No sooner had Vincenzo gone than Gemma’s phone rang. But she was so fragmented after her conversation with him, she ran into the other room and flung herself across the bed. Great heaving sobs poured out of her.

Something was wrong with her. Since the moment he’d entered Takis’s office, appearing like a revenant, she seemed to have turned into a different person, one she didn’t know. Nothing she’d said had come out right. Every conversation after that had ended in disaster. Either she ran out on him or he walked out on her.

Marry me, Gemma.

That’s what he’d asked her moments ago. And what did she do? Throw his proposal back in his incredibly handsome face! That’s because you’ve been on the defensive from the moment he came back into your life, Gemma Rizzo!

No wonder he’d walked out on her. Why wouldn’t he? Didn’t he know she loved him with all her heart and soul? But he was a duca. And that made a marriage between them out of the question, even though it was what she wanted more than anything in the world. While he’d been holding her hands, her body had throbbed with desire for him.

Gemma lay there out of her mind with a new kind of grief. All these years she’d misjudged him so terribly. Now the truth of his revelations burned hot inside her. At this point she knew she was more in love with him than ever.

But the woman who owned the pensione had recognized Vincenzo as the new Duca di Lombardi. That revelation was the coup de grâce for Gemma. His title created a chasm between them that could never be bridged. His marriage proposal thrilled her heart, but she couldn’t marry him. In fact, everything was much worse.

While she worked at the castello, she would have to keep her distance from him. That she’d been crazy in love with him and they’d grown up spending as much time together as possible made it all the more difficult.

He had a potent charisma she found irresistible. Gemma didn’t trust herself around him. Vincenzo had a way of crooking his finger and she’d come running no matter how hard she fought against it.

But she couldn’t allow things to end this way. It was up to her to repair the damage and reason with him so he would understand. She hadn’t told him that her mother didn’t know about her new job yet. If Mirella had any idea he’d asked Gemma to marry him, there’d be even more grief, and Gemma didn’t want to think about that.

Unfortunately it was too late to see him tonight. Tomorrow after work she’d find him and ask him if they could go somewhere private and talk this situation out.

After she’d cried until there were no tears left, she went to the bathroom to get ready for bed, then she returned Filippa’s phone call. Her friend was excited because she’d received an affirmative response from one of the restaurants in Ottawa. “I’m flying to Canada tomorrow for the interview.”

“That’s wonderful.” Gemma was thrilled for her. “Call me when you get there and tell me everything. Just think. You’ll be closer to New York.”

“It’s very exciting. Now tell me, what’s the situation on your end?”

“You don’t want to know and I don’t want to burden you when you’re so happy.”

“Let me be the judge of that.”

Gemma spent the next while telling her all the shocking truths Vincenzo had revealed. “Although I’ve forgiven him, and I do understand, I’m still hurt he couldn’t tell me the truth before.”

“He was only eighteen, remember? And tonight he finally told you the whole truth.”

“But you haven’t heard it all yet. He’s asked me to marry him.”

“What?”

“Yes, and because I know a marriage to him is so impossible, I told him a duca doesn’t marry the cook!”

“Oh, Gemma...you didn’t! No wonder you’re a mess.”

“I am. During those early years we never had trouble communicating. Not ever.”

“But you want something that isn’t possible, because you’re not teenagers anymore.”

“I was more sane as a teenager than I am now. Forgive me for not making any sense tonight.”

“You’ve been in shock since his return. I’m pretty sure he’s in the same condition. Give it all time to sink in.”

“I don’t have another choice. Promise to call me from Canada and tell me everything.”

“Don’t worry. Now try to get a good sleep.”

“I don’t know if I can. Be safe, Filippa, and good luck!”

“Thanks. Be nice to Vincenzo. He could use it. Ciao.”

Those words couldn’t have made Gemma feel guiltier, but she knew her friend hadn’t intended anything hurtful. Quite the opposite, in fact. Filippa always made good sense. With a plan in mind to talk to Vincenzo tomorrow, Gemma got ready for bed and was surprised she didn’t have trouble falling asleep.

* * *

The next morning, she got up and ready for the day. With the formal meetings with the owners and staff out of the way, she dressed for regular work in a short-sleeved top and pleated pants rather than a skirt. Before she left Sopri, she would buy a few groceries to put in the mini fridge for future meals. In fact, while she was shopping, she’d buy a pool lounger to take out to the lake behind the castello.

Until the opening of the hotel, she and Maurice would be working midmorning hours on menus and ordering the staples. But for a few more weeks there’d be free time in the afternoons before the intense work began and she earned her keep.

In the past there was nothing she’d enjoyed more than watching the swans, especially when Vincenzo had joined her. She assumed the water fowl were still there and would be an attraction for hotel guests. For now, she could lie in the sun and read a good thriller before leaving to drive back to the pensione. Maybe she could ask Vincenzo to meet her out there later in the day so they could really talk.

Though she followed through with her plans, she discovered that Vincenzo had flown to New York and wouldn’t be back for a while. The news made her ill. She kept busy, but inside she was dying. He could have left Italy for personal as well as legitimate business reasons. She’d never know and speculation didn’t get her anywhere.

* * *

Four days later she was in the depths of despair when she overheard Cesare and Takis talking in the kitchen. Vincenzo would be arriving at the airport at eight thirty that evening. She hugged the information to herself, trying not to react to her joy so anyone would notice.

After she finished the day’s work with Maurice, she drove back to the pensione and kept busy until evening. Once she’d showered and changed into a sundress, she drove back to the castello. To her relief she saw the Maserati parked in front. Thankful Vincenzo was back safely, she hurried up the steps to find him.

One of the security men, Fortino, let her in the front entrance. This was the first time in ten years that she’d been here at night. The place was quiet as a tomb. Maybe because it was a Friday night and Vincenzo’s partners had gone out. It was too early for anyone to be in bed. Gemma had no idea about their personal lives, though she remembered Vincenzo telling her that they were both single.

She wished she had his cell phone number, but he hadn’t given it to her. If he wasn’t in the kitchen, he might be out with Takis and Cesare. Then again, he was probably exhausted after his long flight and could be up in his tower room.

A long, long time ago, she’d gone looking for him there after hearing he’d suffered a terrible fall from his horse, or so she’d been told at the time. Desperate to make certain he was all right, she’d made her way to his aerie at the top of the castello, afraid one of his father’s guards would see her. His door had been ajar and she’d heard him moan.

Summoning her courage tonight, she stole through the massive structure and made the same trek as before up the stone staircase at the rear. It wound round and round until she arrived at the forbidding-looking medieval iron door. This time it was closed. She held her breath while she listened for any sound.

Nothing came through except the pounding of her own heart.

Gemma knocked. “Vincenzo? Are you in there?” She waited.

Still no response.

It was here—away from everyone, away from any help—that Vincenzo’s father had attacked him. A little sob escaped her lips to think something so terrible had happened to him. Yet he’d survived. She loved him desperately.

Desolate because he wasn’t there, she turned to go back down when she heard the heavy door open behind her and whirled around.

“Gemma—” His deep male voice infiltrated her body. “What are you doing up here?” He was half-hidden by the door.

“I heard you were back from New York and I’ve been waiting to talk to you in private. I know it’s late, but I need to apologize for my cruelty to you the last time we were together.”

“Growing up I memorized your mother’s views on class distinctions like a catechism. Your answer to my marriage proposal shouldn’t have come as a surprise, although I’d hoped for a different response.”

She bit her lip. “That’s why I came up here. To talk about this like an adult.”

“My problem is, I’m in an adult mood. If you cross over my threshold, I won’t be accountable for my behavior. Is that honest enough for you?”

Thump, thump went her heart. “Vincenzo—I’m so sorry—”

“For what?”

“For throwing your proposal back in your face like I did.”

“Are you saying you didn’t mean it?”

“Yes—no—I mean—”

“You can’t have it both ways,” he broke in on her.

“This isn’t a black-and-white situation.”

“So you admit there’s some gray area where we can negotiate?”

She let out a troubled sigh. “I shouldn’t have come up here.”

“Are you saying good-night, then? I can assure you I’d much rather you came in my room the way you did a long time ago, but the decision is up to you.”

Close to a faint from wanting to be with him, she turned to go back down the stairs. The next thing she knew, Vincenzo had caught her around the waist with his strong arms. “Oh—”

“Is this what you want, Gemma? Yes or no?”

Heaven help her. “Yes—”

CHAPTER SEVEN

VINCENZO PULLED HER into his room so her back was crushed against his chest.

“After our troubled reunion days ago, I didn’t expect a welcome home like this. I love this dress, by the way. You’re not so covered up.” He kissed her neck, sending curls of delight through her body.

There was a playful side to him that seduced her. Though he was still dressed in trousers, Gemma could tell he was shirtless. His male scent and the faint aroma of the soap he used were intoxicating. She struggled for breath. “I didn’t know if you were up here or not.”

“I’d barely arrived and was getting ready to drive to the pensione to find you.” He buried his face in her hair like he’d done so many times in the past. “You have no idea how beautiful you are. I couldn’t get back fast enough. When did you let this profusion of silk grow out?”

“Mamma liked it short, but I got tired of the style.”

“It’s breathtaking and smells divine.”

He’d always said wonderful things to her. “I don’t remember your voice being this deep.”

His low chuckle excited her. “Yours is the same.”

“I think you’re taller than you once were.”

“So are you, in high heels. I don’t think I ever told you how much I love your long legs.” He turned her around so he could look into her eyes. “Do you think we’re through growing up?”

In the dim glow of a lamp she saw a glimmer of a smile hover at the corners of his compelling mouth.

“I don’t know. You’re still the tease I remember.”

“And you still blush. Give me your mouth, Gemma, so I’ll know not everything has changed.”

She put her hands against his chest with its dusting of black hair. “Please don’t kiss me again, Vincenzo. I was simply trying to find you so I could explain what I meant the other night after you followed me to the pensione to talk. Everything came out wrong. I’ll go downstairs while you finish getting dressed and meet you in the lobby, where we can have the conversation we should have had.”

Gemma tried to pull away from him, but he held her firmly in his grasp. “The last time you came to this room, I had to let you go too soon because I was afraid you could be in danger. That’s not the case anymore, and I’ve waited too long for this moment.”

He lowered his mouth to hers and began kissing her. A kiss here, a kiss there, then one so long and deep her legs started to give way. Vincenzo picked her up in his arms and carried her past the square hunting table in front of the fireplace to the hand-carved bed.

The suite had been redecorated in nineteenth-century decor with every accoutrement befitting his title. But Gemma wasn’t aware of anything except this man who was kissing her senseless. No longer the eighteen-year-old she’d adored, he was a man already making her feel immortal.

When she’d come to his bed ten years ago, he’d been suffering, in pain, and they’d had to be so careful how they kissed and held each other. Not wanting to make it worse, Gemma had had to be the one to make it easier for him to get close to her and caress her.

Tonight that wasn’t their problem. With one kiss Vincenzo had swept her away to a different place, exciting her in ways she hadn’t thought possible. He rolled her over so he could look down at her. His hands roamed her hips and arms as if memorizing her.

“I could eat you alive, bellissima.” He kissed every feature of her face before capturing her mouth again and again. One kiss turned into another, drowning her in desire. Vincenzo was such a gorgeous man, she couldn’t believe he was loving her like this. “I know this is what you want, too. You can’t deny it. You’re in my blood and my heart, Gemma.”

“You’re in mine,” she cried softly. “I can’t remember a moment when you weren’t a part of me.”

“I want you with me. It’s past time we were together.”

She cupped his striking face in her hands. “That’s what you say now.”

He kissed the tips of her fingers. “What kind of a comment is that? You think I’m going to change? Wouldn’t I have already done that over the years we’ve been apart? I’ve already asked you to marry me. What more proof do you need? That’s a commitment to last forever.” He plundered her mouth with another heart-stopping kiss.

Gemma moaned. “All lovers say that. If you were a normal man, I could believe it.”

He raised up on one elbow, tracing the outline of her lips. “You don’t think I’m normal? We’ve been apart too long. Spend the night with me and you’ll find out the truth.”

“I don’t mean that kind of normal, and you know it.”

“With you lying here in my arms, your lambent green eyes as alive with desire as your body, I’m in the mood to humor you. I hunger for you, Gemma.”

“You’re not thinking clearly, Vincenzo.” She fought tears. “I can’t marry you.”

Lines marred his arresting features. “Of course you can. A duca can do whatever he likes, choose whatever woman he wants, just like any other man.”

“I know,” she whispered, turning her head away. Oh, how well she knew after learning the dark secrets inside the walls of the castello. His father’s and uncle’s proclivities for other women had been one of the great scandals in all Lombardi.

He caught her chin so she had to look at him. “Let’s get something straight once and for all. I have despised the class system all my life and fought against it growing up. The idea of finding the right princess to marry in order to gain more power and money is revolting to me. Your love sustained me growing up. It means more to me than any riches or possessions.”

She eased away from him and sat up, smoothing the hair off her forehead. “You say that now.”

“I’ll say it now and until the end of our days together.”

“Vincenzo—” A sob escaped. “You just don’t understand.”

“Then help me.” He tugged on her hand so she couldn’t get off the bed. She’d never heard him sound so dark.

“You’re the most wonderful, remarkable man I’ve ever known. But you were born with a special destiny.”

“No. I happened to be born the son of a duca. That’s not destiny. It’s an accident of birth.”

“Please listen. I’m going to tell you something you never knew. One time when your grandfather was out in the back courtyard in his wheelchair, I was sent out to take him a sweet. He loved Mamma’s zeppole. I gave them to him.

“After he thanked me, I started to hurry away, but he called to me. ‘Come back here, piccola,’ he said and reached for my hand. ‘I’ve seen you with my grandson. You’ve been a good friend to him and I can tell you like him. And I know why. Can you keep a secret?’ I nodded.

“‘There’s a reason everyone likes him. One day he’ll grow up to be the finest duca of us all. With his princess he’ll raise future duchi, who will have a wonderful father to look up to. But I’m afraid I won’t live to see it.’ He kept hold of my hand and wept.

“Even though I was young, I realized that he was letting me know how lucky I was to be in your company. When I ran back to Mamma and told her, she said it was a sign from heaven that I should always respect my friendship with you. To think of wanting anything more would be sacrilege.”

* * *

“Santa Madre di Dio!” Vincenzo got off the bed, putting his hands on his hips in a totally male stance. “So that’s the reason for all this talk! Gemma—if it will ease your mind, I’ve heard your opinion on the subject before. Your mother shared her beliefs because she loves you and wants to protect you.”

“Still, my temper sometimes gets the best of me.”

“I remember,” he murmured. “That time you and Bianca went swimming in the lake without your clothes. You thought Dimi and I had been spying on you and had taken them. I confess we did spy with my binoculars from a tree at the edge of the forest.”

“Vincenzo—”

“But it turned out we weren’t the culprits. The dog of one of the guards ran off with your clothes. We chased it down and brought your things back to you, but I don’t recall you thanking us.”

She shook her head. “We were too embarrassed to talk. That was so humiliating, you can’t imagine.”

“You were our wood nymphs come to life. Dimi and I thought it was the most wonderful day we’d ever spent.”

“You would!” But even across the expanse separating them he detected a half smile.

“I’ll tell you another secret. My mother was very fond of you. But because she was a princess, she believed any feelings I had for you would come to grief. Like your mother, Mamma had also been raised in a different world of rigidity within the titled class.”

Gemma sat on the edge of the bed. “Her words were prophetic.”

“Not completely. Dimi and I broke rules all over the place. It’s a new world now. Because of a reaction to the misuse of noble titles in our country, you’ll notice a trend among legitimate aristocracy in this last decade to refrain from making use of their titles.”

“I didn’t realize.”

“What’s important is that you and I have found each other again and I’m no longer in danger from my father or uncle. The powers that be are gone.”

“Thank heaven for that, Vincenzo. But what did you mean when you said you wouldn’t be a duca much longer?”

He hadn’t meant to tell her this soon, but right now he was desperate to get closer to her. “Since my return to Italy, there are men in the government who know of my business interests in the US and here. I’m not blind. Because of my title they want me to get on board with them to play an economic role in the region’s future. It’s all political, Gemma. The title corrupted my father and uncle. It turned their souls dark. I refuse to let that happen to me.”

“You don’t know if the title did that to them, Vincenzo. I watched you grow up titled, remember? I never once saw you do an unkind thing in your whole life.” She stared hard at him. “You can’t change who you are.”

“Oh, but I can.”

“How?”

“By renouncing my title. Once that’s done, it’s permanent. If I have a son or sons, they won’t inherit it, and any daughters I might have can’t inherit it anyway. The beauty of it is that an Italian title of nobility cannot be sold or transferred. In other words, the abuse stops with me. My male children and their children and the children after them won’t be burdened.”

Her eyes widened. “If you do that, won’t the title fall on Dimi through his father?”

“Yes, but he’s taking the same steps.”

“You’d both stop the title from progressing after centuries of succession?”

Vincenzo nodded. “There are so many dreadful things my father and uncle did in the name of that title, seen not only in the scars that Dimi and I carry. You know the head gardener who was introduced at the orientation meeting?”

“Yes. I met him out in back the first day.”

“Years ago, my father got angry at him for planting some flowers Mamma wanted. He told him to get out and never come back. He didn’t give him a reference or any severance pay. While Dimi and I were looking up old employees, we found him.

“That’s just one of a hundred stories I could tell you of my father’s cruelty. If he and my uncle hadn’t been born to a duca, they wouldn’t have felt they had the right to treat people like animals. The only way to end the corruption is to rid ourselves of the title and restore the honor of those noble Gagliardis from the past by preserving the castello.”

“That’s why you turned it into a resort,” she whispered.

“What better way to make restitution than by allowing the public to enjoy its heritage, thereby giving back something good and decent to the region.”

Her features sobered. “You loved your grandfather Emanuele. He was a great duca. How would he feel about this?”

“I can’t speak for him, but if he’s looking down on us now, he couldn’t be pleased with what his sons did while he was dying. Being born with a title gives some men dangerous ideas.”

“But not you, Vincenzo. Emanuele adored you. I don’t think he’d want you to do this.”

He frowned and got to his feet. “For someone who came close to bearing the brunt of my father’s dark side, I’m surprised to hear this coming from you. I thought you of all people would be happy to see this kind of inequality come to an end.”

“But you’re a different breed of man and shouldn’t have to give up what is part of you.”

“I’m a man, pure and simple. Don’t endow me with anything else. This isn’t an idea I just came up with on a whim. When I was five, maybe six, I saw my father kick one of the young stable hands to the ground because he didn’t call him Your Highness. It sickened me. That was the day my plan was born. Now I can see it through to fruition.”