Mistresses: Blackmailed For His Pleasure

She forced a calm demeanor she surely didn’t feel. “What do you need?”

A smile teased his mouth which was at odds with the hot look he cast her. “Would you help me make coffee? I can never do it right.”

And he thought she could? She bit back that question and the sarcastic tone that begged to be loosed. “If you wish.”

“Grazie.”

She rose and smoothed down her skirt which had the annoying habit of creeping up her thighs. His heated gaze watched her every movement and she damned the warmth flooding her face as much as she damned the fact he had a knack for keeping her on edge. Purposely, she would bet!

Make his coffee indeed, she thought as she went about the simple task. Yes, she always prepared a pot for Cesare. She would do the same for his infuriating son from now on—before he arrived at the office.

“How do you take it?” she asked.

“Ristretto.”

She wasn’t surprised he preferred his strong and black. But she hadn’t expected his attentiveness to her every move. It was unnerving in the extreme.

“You make it look so easy,” he said when she had the coffee on and the rich aroma began filling the room.

She glanced up at him and was instantly ensnared by the hot promise in his eyes. Good grief, was he flirting with her?

Of course he was. All Italian men flirted, and Stefano was reputed to be an outrageous flirt. She’d just not had the opportunity to witness it before now.

“Is there anything else you need?” she asked, aiming for a cool voice that would let him know she wasn’t the least bit interested in him.

“Not at the moment,” he said, though the lusty gleam in his eyes contradicted his reply.

Her spine went stiff as she left the room that seemed far too close with him in it. How dare he be so cavalier with her one moment and charismatically male the next!

He’d likely find some task to interrupt her work later. She was certain of it.

Back at her desk, she set to work contacting the department managers. Most asked when Cesare would return to work. Others expressed concerns about what would happen if Cesare was forced to retire or if he died.

The last left her with an ache in her stomach and a heaviness in her heart. It hadn’t been that long ago that she’d lost her own papa in a boating accident.

She certainly didn’t want to think about losing Cesare! But she was worried about him. A deep unsettling worry that would likely rob her of sleep and keep her on edge.

Some months ago, Cesare had confided in her that he and his son hadn’t been on speaking terms in years. The old man didn’t have to tell her that upset him. She could tell.

He loved his youngest son, but according to Cesare, Stefano had disagreed with him and his eldest son over how to run Marinetti Shipyard. So he had left the company and struck out on his own and their estrangement had remained.

Interesting that Stefano had returned and stepped into the role of CEO now. Surely he wouldn’t take advantage of Cesare’s illness to disrupt the way things were done here? Surely he wouldn’t make drastic changes?

Her intercom buzzed, a long discordant sound that rifled the calm she’d desperately sought. So much for getting a reprieve from Stefano this morning.

She jammed a finger on the call button. “Sì, signor.”

“Stefano.” The silken timbre of his voice stirred a restless energy in her—something that was better left sleeping around him. “I have need of your services.”

“Coming.”

She stood and smoothed a hand over her skirt that had crept up her thighs, picked up her pen and notepad, and marched into the lion’s den. She was immediately thrust into another breathless moment of sensual awareness as her gaze locked on the sexy man lounging at Cesare’s desk.

He’d removed his jacket and slung it carelessly on the leather sofa, as if settling in to work. He’d even rolled up his shirtsleeves and left his cuff links lying on the desktop, the stones glinting the fire of diamonds in the light. But he still looked more the playboy than executive.

His silk tie hung loose around the strong column of his neck. His stark white shirt was open at the collar, revealing a wedge of olive skin sprinkled with black hair.

The same dark hair sprang from his forearms that were corded with muscle. A Gucci watch banded one wrist.

Anger knotted her stomach. Everything about him screamed money and sophistication. He was the consummate billionaire flaunting an extravagance that Cesare certainly couldn’t afford.

Up until nine months ago, Marinetti Shipyard had made a marginal profit building fishing boats and ferries. Some called Marinetti Shipyard antiquated.

Of late, she’d heard the rumors that it was on the verge of collapse. The last hurt the most because it was true.

Cesare had been forced to dig deeply into the profits and a failure of new orders coming in had been unable to compensate for the loss. If she could, she would’ve given back the money Cesare had insisted she take.

But it was gone and her only source of income now was her salary. Without Cesare running his business, how much longer could they go on?

Just last week Cesare had confessed that he’d had to sell a good deal of his shares to Canto Di Mare in order to make payroll. He barely held controlling interest in his own company. No wonder his health had broke!

Without another word or glance Stefano’s way, she settled into the chair before Cesare’s desk, ready to take dictation from her temporary boss. She would surely count the days until Cesare’s return.

“I will be dividing my time between Marinetti and my own company,” he began, rocking back in the chair with lazy insouciance and surprising her with that announcement. “After my father’s surgery, of course.”

“Of course.”

Good! Stefano would only be here part-time. He was likely bored already with his papa’s business.

Cesare Marinetti was old school and his schedule at Marinetti Shipyard was relaxed. Everything here was done in slow precision as it had been done for generations.

Even a good many of the employees were extended family with sons following in their fathers’ footsteps. But what would Stefano know of that?

He’d walked away from his family. He’d found fault with the way this shipyard was run years ago. He’d shunned tradition.

“As my own secretary is on holiday,” Stefano said, snaring her attention. “You will accompany me as I commute between both locations.”

Was he joking? She had no intentions of being at his beck and call, especially since she had so much to do for Cesare in Milan. That took precedence over bowing to Stefano’s whims.

“That is impossible. My work is here,” she said.

CHAPTER TWO

THE mouth she’d earlier admired curved into a devilish smile that sent her stomach cartwheeling. She knew before he said a word that she’d just baited the lion. And lost.

“Your work is wherever and whatever I deem it to be for the foreseeable future. And,” he said, raising one finger when she opened her mouth to voice a weak objection, “to make myself clear, my father is on strict bed rest before his surgery and throughout his recuperation. That includes personal business.”

Those last four words shot ice down her spine. He was ordering her to keep away from Cesare. The wall had been thrown up. It was a small wonder Cesare was able to contact her when he had. Which was likely what his son had anticipated when he took over.

At least she’d gotten the files out in time. She’d simply have to keep them hidden until Cesare returned. And she would guard them with her life.

“Am I forbidden to visit him, as well?” she asked, worry seeping into her bones when she thought of the little girl waiting for Cesare in Milan.

They couldn’t just abandon her now. If Cesare was unable to see to her care, then Gemma would have to do so for him. But first she’d have to get away from Stefano.

That could prove difficult, considering he planned to take her away from here in the capacity of his personal assistant.

“You may visit my father.” He stroked the chiseled line of his classically strong jaw with a thumb as if carefully considering her question. “After his surgery.”

If she thought he was genuinely concerned about the older man’s health prior to the heart bypass, she’d not take this personally. But the hard glint in his eyes mirrored the undertone in his warning—one meant just for her. Could he know of her deep relationship with Cesare? Had he somehow discovered his papa’s secret?

No, that was impossible. She and Cesare had been discreet to a fault. Cesare had doled out a fortune to ensure privacy at the hospital.

Stefano was just throwing his weight around in hopes she would make a mistake. Well, it was time she reminded him that she worked for his papa first and him second.

She got to her feet, still clutching her notepad like a shield. “Cesare wanted me to prepare a detailed list of the ships we are contracted to build during the next year. If you are through, I’d like to get started on it.”

“This is to be included in the prospectus for the new stockholder?”

“Yes,” she said, unsettled by the mesmerizing intensity of his eyes that seemed to look right through her.

He lifted one broad shoulder in a careless shrug. “It can wait.”

“No, it can’t,” she shot back. “Cesare made it clear that the paperwork must be completed today.”

“I am telling you it can wait.”

She threw a hand in the air, disgusted that Stefano wasn’t taking his papa’s wishes seriously. “You may not care if your father’s business flourishes or fails but I do. Until I hear otherwise, he is my boss, not you.”

Gemma could have crawled under the table, for she’d never, never, let her emotions get the better of her until now. But Stefano Marinetti seemed to know what buttons to jab to push her over the edge. And wouldn’t that be a crime!

If she walked out, Cesare would have nobody in his corner. He’d have to reveal his secret and face the consequences. And a little girl would be exposed and branded a bastard.

Her shoulders slumped, for that realization was all it took for her to pull in her claws. She’d been the object of scorn before. She certainly wouldn’t wish it on another innocent. Besides, she’d given Cesare her word that she’d carry on with her role here.

“Forgive my lack of manners,” she said.

He toyed with a pen, and she had the distinct feeling he thoroughly enjoyed baiting his adversaries, especially her. God knew they were on opposite sides.

She was Cesare’s personal secretary and loved her job and her boss. He was estranged from his father and had made no attempt to bridge the breach. Until now, when his papa was incapacitated.

That bald fact instantly put her on the wrong side of Stefano. Was he here to help his papa, or did he have a personal agenda?

“You are a fierce champion of my father,” he said.

“I am simply doing my job.”

“You are doing far more than that.”

She didn’t delude herself into thinking he was handing out a compliment. She simply clung to the hope that he’d decide to hire a temporary secretary and release her to go about Cesare’s business uninterrupted.

“You should know that I’m aware of why you refused to work for your father.”

“And that reason would be?”

She lifted her chin, refusing to be cowed. “Your rivalry with your brother and your refusal to take orders from him.”

He stared at her for one long, uncomfortable moment. “Did my papa tell you that?”

“Most of it,” she said. “The rest I heard shortly after I came to work here.”

“Gossip. Let me tell you the truth.” He slammed across the office, fists clutched at his sides. “My brother’s wife drove me from here.”

This was getting far too personal for her liking. “Really, you don’t have to explain your differences—”

“Before she married my brother, she was my lover. I thought myself in love with her, so I brought her home to meet my parents.” He faced her, and the anger on his face was a terrible thing to witness. “She decided my brother was the better catch as he was the heir to the company. Davide had no compunction about sleeping with her behind my back.”

No wonder he demanded loyalty and honesty from his employees. “That’s why you left Marinetti Shipyard. You couldn’t stand to work with your brother and be around her.”

“That was the deciding reason for me to leave. There were other clashes over designs and management.” His gaze met hers, and the cold finality reflected in their depths made her shiver. “Are you satisfied now?”

Shocked was more like it. “I’m sorry you were betrayed by your brother and lover.”

“I don’t want your pity, Miss Cardone.”

He stared at her a long, uncomfortable moment, the intensity in his eyes searing through her as if branding her. Or perhaps burning her at the stake for dredging up such painful memories.

“May I go now?” she asked.

His chin dipped. “See to this list that you’re determined to complete.”

She turned and hurried to the door, a heartbeat away from escaping him when the deep velvet rumble of his voice ribboned around her and brought her up short.

“Bring me the portfolio when you’re done,” he said. “I wish to review it before handing it over to my accountant.”

It wasn’t so much his words as it was the assurance in his voice that filled her with dread. She turned to face him, only to find him staring at her as if he could swallow her up whole and enjoy every second.

She hiked her chin up, annoyed that she couldn’t stop him from getting to her, that he could make her tremble with anger and an emotion she barely understood. He was certainly bringing out the worst in her!

“Why should your accountant review Cesare’s files when we have one employed who can do the same?” she asked, holding back the burning question of why he needed to see the list in the first place. In her heart she knew it couldn’t be a good reason.

“Simple, Gemma. I am the CEO and owner of Canto Di Mare.”

It took a moment to process that news. When it did, her thoughts tossed between outrage and awe.

“You are the new stockholder of Marinetti?”

He dipped his arrogant head in answer. “Now if you will excuse me, I have work to do. I expect those files before you leave for the day.”

She took that curt dismissal as a godsend and slipped from the room. But peace eluded her.

Stefano wasn’t doing his father a favor by stepping into his shoes now. He had a vested interest in the shipyard. She trembled with annoyance and fear of what this arrogant, domineering and ruthless man intended to do.

Worry stacked on her narrow shoulders like a child’s wooden blocks, weighing her down, each new burden threatening to send the whole toppling around her. The company. Cesare. His love child.

She could certainly imagine Stefano meting out vengeance with great relish. Is that why Cesare had warned her to keep his secret close to her heart? Was he afraid of what his son would do if he learned the truth?

Gemma had only one way of knowing those answers, and she simply couldn’t take the risk. A child’s future was at stake. If Cesare hadn’t made proper provisions for her…Well, then Gemma would have to see to the child’s care herself.

She’d have to mind her own errant thoughts as well regarding one arrogantly handsome Italian who commanded too much of her time and thoughts.

Stefano had controlling interest in Marinetti. She was at the mercy of a man who clearly had none to spare. No matter what, she had to stay in Stefano’s good graces, for too much was at stake if she failed.

Stefano Marinetti watched the tempting secretary flounce from the office and allowed a smile of appreciation. His papa had impeccable taste in women.

Gemma was more tantalizing than most with her thick, wavy hair that was kissed with streaks of blond and her naturally fair skin that had acquired a golden tan. Her wide eyes were the same mysterious blue as the Aegean Sea. Her mouth was a perfect bow that begged a man to kiss her.

Yes, she had an Italian surname, but he would bet she had a good deal of English blood in her. Perhaps she was the daughter of an expatriate who’d come to Italy to find a rich husband. Instead that woman had gotten snared by a fisherman.

Not that Gemma’s heritage made a damned bit of difference to him.

She was still doing all she could to cushion her life. Too bad the little piece of fluff had sunk her claws into his papa when the old man was at his lowest.

He shoved Gemma from his thoughts and rang up the accounting department. By now every one in Marinetti’s employ would know that he’d assumed the reins of the company.

Now it was time to get down to business.

“Buongiorno, Umberto,” Stefano said in greeting as the little man he remembered so well from childhood answered the phone.

“Stefano? Buongiorno,” the man replied warmly, and Stefano smiled, certain the older man would have kissed his cheeks had they met in person. “It is good you are back to manage the company.”

“Sì.” Though he imagined not everyone at Marinetti would share his relief.

His papa’s employees had always been loyal. To a fault? He’d soon find out.

“I am acquainting myself with my father’s recent business dealings and I need your help. Last month, did my father make a substantial withdrawal of company funds?”

The riffling of papers came over the line. Papers, when the company should be solely using computers!

“Sì, Cesare requested an expenditure.” Umberto noted the date.

Stefano set his teeth. It was the same time of month that his father and Gemma set aside for their jaunt to Milan.

“What was the purpose of this advance?”

“It wasn’t my place to ask,” Umberto said.

Stefano smoothed a thumb and forefinger over his brow, frustrated by the old-world attitude of his father’s employees. The misappropriation of funds should have thrown up red flags to the man in charge of finances.

Stefano gave a clipped thanks and ended the call.

He’d been able to launch a swift investigation on Friday, but he’d only been able to discern one damning thing. In the past nine months, his papa had taken monthly trips to Milan with Gemma Cardone. Each time a substantial amount of funds were removed from his personal account.

Clearly any money his father gave Gemma was for services rendered in her role as his mistress. Considering the staggering amount she’d gained, she must be very good in bed!

That was a thought he didn’t wish to dwell on.

Never mind that his body thrummed with sensual energy whenever she was near. She was a desirable woman and he was a red-blooded Italian who loved to love women.

That was all there was to it. That’s all there would ever be! He wouldn’t dally with his father’s leavings, nor would he fall under the charms of a scheming gold-digger again!

He would make her regret milking his father out of a fortune and causing his mamma such heartache. He could still hear the pain and fury in her voice when she’d phoned him just a week before she died.

“I have been publicly humiliated,” his mother had said. “I went shopping with your aunt Althea, only to be taken aside in the store and told that there was a block on my account!”

He could guess how her Sicilian blood must have boiled. “What did Papa say about this?”

“He told me that times were hard for the business. That he hadn’t said anything earlier because he didn’t wish to worry me,” she said. “But that was a lie. The old fool has taken a mistress. After thirty-three years of fidelity, he suddenly decides to take a lover.”

“You’re sure of this?”

“Positive,” she’d said. “Ever since he hired that woman nine months ago, he pays little attention to me.”

The woman being Gemma Cardone with her innocent smile and seductive body. “You’ve based your suspicions on Papa hiring a new secretary?”

That heaped more coals on his mamma’s fiery temper. “They work together all day. They go away on business trips every month, yet Cesare denies he is branching out the shipping business. So I ask you what are they doing on these trips to Milan?”

Stefano hadn’t a clue, but his mother’s suspicions convinced him to look into his father’s affairs. It had been simple to follow his papa’s treks to Milan.

Each month he and Gemma drove the same route to Milan. They always lent the same suite in the hotel. They’d hole up there for three or four days. Stolen moments. A tryst de amore, he was sure.

Perhaps his father needed a young woman to fire his blood and make him feel virile again. These things happened. But Stefano wouldn’t tolerate his papa abusing his mother.

If Cesare Marinetti took a mistress to satisfy his lust, he must make concessions to his wife to soothe her pride.

As for Stefano, he damn sure couldn’t let a gold-digger bankrupt his father’s company! However, a car wreck one week ago had taken his mamma’s life and had nearly done the same to his papa. There had been no time to think about righting the wrong until now.

He splayed his hands on the desk and felt his blood pounding at his fingertips. Two things topped his agenda: Get Marinetti Shipping back on track and send Gemma Cardone packing.

His muscles clenched in anger—and desire—as he thought of her seducing his papa out of so much. Too much to let her get off easy.

His papa must have been over the moon for her. And why wouldn’t he?

She was more tempting than he’d imagined. Despite knowing what she was, he’d been powerless to stop the desire that had erupted inside him and flowed hotter than lava off volatile Mount Etna.

Hotter still than the Sicilian blood inherited from his mam-ma that demanded the satisfaction of vengeance and desire. He could hold a tight fist on his explosive anger, but he was powerless to control his desire for Gemma, and that admission angered him all the more.

No woman had ever had that much power over him. Not even the young gorgeous lover he’d brought home from college. He’d been unsure of the depth of his love for her. He’d questioned her profession of love for him.

But he hadn’t realized she’d been a gold-digger until she had seduced his brother. How ironic that she’d have had more wealth had she remained with Stefano.

It was a hard lesson learned. He’d not be duped again—especially by his father’s mistress!

Maledizionel She’d caused his mother untold grief, and made a fool of his papa. She’d not do the same to him.

But even as his heart thundered with the need for retribution, he knew a swift punishment wasn’t enough. No, Gemma Cardone should be made to suffer as his mamma has suffered the last few weeks of her life.

He strode to the window and stared out at the shipyard that had been in his family for generations. Marinettis had made their mark in quality ships, thanks to the seafaring men of Italy and the Mediterranean. Fishermen needed boats and ports needed ferries.

Like his papa and grandpapa before him, Cesare had embraced that simple prescription for success. He saw no reason to deviate or expand.

Stefano did. He had dreams of a bigger empire. A larger, cleaner international empire.

He’d wanted to build eco-friendly vessels. Sailboats, ferries, trawlers and d’elite superyachts. Ships that would rule the seas yet not destroy the fragile environment.

The superyacht would be the starship of his company. Floating pleasure palaces for the ultrarich, each custom made to suit discerning tastes.

His papa thought his idea was an adulteration of the principles of the company. They had butted heads. They had argued fiercely as only Italians do.

His papa insisted they were shipbuilders for Italians. Cesare was a millionaire and was content to move in that circle, refusing to cater to the whims of the ultrarich. He expected Stefano to fall into step with him just as his brother Davide had adhered to the niche Marinetti had carved for itself.