Mistresses: Blackmailed For His Pleasure

“So what changed your mind?”

He shifted uneasily and made a cutting movement with his hand. “I was her first lover.”

An awful quiet echoed in the waiting room to set his nerves on edge. “When?”

“This is not the time to discuss such things,” he reminded his aunt when a couple entered the room and crossed to the chairs on the other side.

“Now is the perfect time,” she said in a voice pitched low. “Tell me how long you’ve known this woman.”

“We spent last night on the yacht.” And in case his aunt had any doubts what he meant, he added, “In the same bed. She hadn’t known any man before me.”

She treated him to a long, assessing look before spitting out a torrent of curses directed at the male of the species. “You are sure of this?”

“Positive,” he said. “She is Papa’s personal secretary. That is all.”

Yet even as he said it he knew Gemma was more to his father than that. There were the unexplained weekends spent in Milan and the small fortune that Cesare had given Gemma.

A man didn’t hand over that kind of money to a stranger unless there was a very good reason. Gemma had never offered an explanation for her good fortune. She couldn’t even look him in the eyes when the subject was brought up.

Stefano knew she was hiding something that involved her and his father. But what?

He’d visited Milan shortly after his mamma had voiced her suspicions about his papa straying, but all he’d discovered was that his papa and Gemma had made weekly visits to a lavish hotel that was owned by an old friend of his papa’s. A friend who claimed to have no idea what business brought Cesare Marinetti and his young secretary to Milan so often.

His father certainly incited loyalty in his friends and employees!

“Cesare was supposed to be in recovery by now,” his aunt said as the dinner hour in the hospital came around and the smells of overcooked food filled the room. “Why is it taking them so long?”

“I wish I knew.”

Unease curdled in his gut. Something must have gone wrong. Stefano knew it couldn’t be good when the doctor strode into the waiting room an hour later, his scrubs damp with sweat, his expression a mask of concern.

“Signor Marinetti?” he asked.

“Here,” he said and rose. “How is my father?”

The doctor motioned to a door. “Please. Let’s go in here where we can talk in private.”

Stefano took his aunt’s arm and guided her into the private room. He’d faced many situations where he had to keep a cool head, but he’d never felt this nervous.

The surgeon didn’t mince words. “The heart surgery went well. But as we were closing the graft site on his leg, your father suffered colpo apoplettico.”

His aunt let out a keening sound that mirrored Stefano’s fear for his father’s recovery. The doctor’s grave expression told Stefano the stroke was severe.

“How is he now?” Stefano asked.

The doctor’s lips thinned a fraction, and Stefano guessed the man was trying to soften the blow. “Unconscious. We have stabilized him, but we have no idea of the damage done until he wakes up.”

If he woke from the coma. The back of Stefano’s throat went dry at the thought.

Time. His father needed time to heal before they could begin to think of any treatment.

“When can we see him?” Stefano asked.

“As soon as he’s stable and moved into intensive care. Get some rest.” The doctor left without another word, closing the door behind him to afford them continued privacy.

Stefano paced the smaller room, his emotions on the razor’s edge. He’d never felt as sad and alone as he did now.

“I’m not leaving the hospital tonight, but I’ll have my driver return you to your hotel.”

“You will call me if you need me?” his aunt asked.

“Yes, of course.”

This complication made Stefano more aware of his own morbidity.

He was bombarded with dire predictions.

His papa could die.

As he’d suspected all along, his papa wouldn’t return to his post at Marinetti anytime soon. His papa’s shipyard was in his sole control, along with all the promises and problems he’d run from all his life.

If it was any other failing business he’d acquired, he’d liquidate it immediately. But many of the men in his father’s employ had worked there all their lives. Their chance for finding another job would not be easy.

Stefano was ruthless in business. But he wasn’t heartless. He couldn’t toss good men out onto the street.

Everyone at Marinetti was his responsibility now.

And Gemma. He needed her help more than ever. How the hell did she fit into his papa’s life? How would she fit into his?

Time would tell.

Stefano settled into a chair that would surely give him a backache by dawn and placed a call to the yacht. “Have it brought in to port in the morning but do not let Miss Cardone leave.”

He and Gemma must talk.

He had to know why she and his father had gone to Milan. He must know just what her role was in his papa’s life before he could think of where she belonged in his.

Early the next morning, Gemma stood outside Cesare’s room and watched him through the observation glass in the intensive care unit. Her nerves twitched with each bleep, whoosh and click of the intensive care machines. Her heart broke to see the strong man lying so still, his gaze trained toward the ceiling.

She longed to sit beside him for a while and just talk like they had countless times. But nobody was allowed in his room.

Nobody but family and they weren’t around.

“May I help you?” a nurse said, startling her.

“Where is his family?” she asked, annoyed that Stefano wasn’t here by his father’s side.

“His son and sister just left a few minutes ago,” the nurse said, and Gemma wondered if they had gone out for breakfast. Perhaps Stefano was en route to his ship to fetch her. Wouldn’t he be surprised, and not in a good way?

“I expect they will return within the hour,” the nurse said. “Are you a friend of the family?”

“I’m Cesare’s personal secretary. How is he?”

“He suffered a stroke during surgery but he is stable now,” the nurse said.

“His prognosis?”

The nurse shook her head and moved away, leaving Gemma to wonder if she was refusing to answer or if Cesare’s condition was that dire. She feared it was the latter.

Mio Dio! Cesare had told her this was a possibility during the surgery he faced and she’d refused to believe it could happen to him.

Take care of Rachel, he’d told her.

That responsibility rested heavier on her now. How could she possibly see to the child’s needs and be Stefano’s willing mistress as well? How could she continue to keep the two worlds apart?

One month. That’s all she had to abide by Stefano’s agreement. Never mind that she’d felt whole and wanted and loved in his arms. Never mind that she hadn’t wanted the moment to end.

Cesare was adamant that Stefano not know about Rachel. He didn’t trust his own son with his love child’s care. But could he have misjudged his son? Could she trust Stefano with the truth?

She wished she knew!

Her head spun just thinking of the needs Rachel still required. The private school and nanny were another matter. Had Cesare made arrangements for Rachel’s future?

She hoped so for she couldn’t turn Rachel down. Not after investing so much of herself in the child’s recovery.

“I’ll take care of Rachel,” she whispered, wishing Cesare was awake and could hear her promise. But it won’t be easy, she silently added.

How could she possibly manage it alone?

The scuff of a shoe behind her snapped her from her dire musings. Someone was very close to her, and the energy crackling in the air could only be generated from one arrogant Italian. Stefano.

Gemma steadied her breathing the best she could and turned, but her chest felt too tight and her stomach knotted with dread as her gaze clashed with Stefano Marinetti’s flashing dark eyes.

He was the embodiment of a Roman sentry garbed in tailored Armani and a glacial scowl. Anger eddied off him in heat waves.

“A word in private with you,” he said, his voice sharp and disapproving.

“Of course,” Gemma said, not wishing to vent her anger in front of the nurses.

But she lifted her chin to let Stefano know she was not sorry she’d defied him. All show, for her insides quaked with uncertainty and fear. Not fear for herself.

No, for Cesare’s recovery and for his child. For her own agreement with Stefano. What would the future hold for them?

She pushed past the man she’d loved to distraction last night and came face-to-face with an older woman. Even if the family resemblance hadn’t been unmistakable, Gemma knew this was Cesare’s sister.

“E’questa la donna?” the woman asked Stefano, her dark eyes as censoring as her nephew’s.

“Sì,” he said, leaving Gemma to wonder what he’d told his aunt about her.

Nothing good she was sure, given he bore no resemblance to the gentle, sensual man she’d made love with last night. And could that have been his goal all along? Had he set out to break down her defenses with the love she craved so she’d reveal his father’s secrets?

Had he tried to seduce her into trusting him?

If so then he’d misjudged her loyalty to Cesare.

From what she’d learned of him, he disliked being wrong or bested. Right now hard, unyielding Stefano ruled in the light of day, and it was obvious he was furious with her for escaping his yacht and coming here.

So she hurried down the hall with his hand pressed to the small of her back. Thankfully nobody could hear her knees knock with worry.

Nobody but her felt her heart aching with indecision. That small, dominating hold on her was creating havoc within her, reminding her of the passion they’d shared. Of the heat that still flared between them.

Was that all it was? Sex?

It must be. But even as she settled on that reason, she feared that another emotion had begun to take root last night. Love.

Last night he’d made love to her so thoroughly and so deeply that her heart had beat in tandem with his. She’d seen a tenderness in him that he kept hidden, a vulnerability that she’d glimpsed once before when he’d mentioned his sister- in-law’s deceit.

She’d sensed his raw need tinged with fear and her heart had melted then and there. She’d ached to comfort him. To hold him into the night. To love him now and forever.

She’d melded with the soul of the man and knew he was capable of intense compassion as well as passion. She wanted to believe he’d embrace the role of Rachel’s brother. She wanted to trust that Stefano Marinetti would finally put family above business and himself. She wanted to believe all would be right.

And now? Now in the harsh light of day the ruthless, arrogant Stefano was back in control. She slipped into the alcove and whirled on him, breaking the contact that muddled her mind so.

When it came to business, Stefano was brutal.

When it came to family, he’d walked away before without a care. She couldn’t let that happen to Rachel. She couldn’t let him hurt her, either.

He pressed Gemma against the wall and stood over her, his hard, lean body centimeters from hers. It was a pose she’d seen countless times between couples on the street when they wanted a private moment to share a few words.

Or to share a kiss.

A delicious shiver ran through her and she damned her body’s eager response to his. Here and gone, leaving an intense ache of want. Leaving her trembling.

“You were to wait on the ship for me,” he said in a furious whisper that raised bumps on her skin.

She’d not allow him to heap guilt on her. “I was worried about your papa, and you.”

The pulse in his temple beat madly, belying the cocky smile he affected. “He is unconscious, bella. The doctors don’t know when he’ll awaken or what condition he’ll be in when and if he does.”

Just what she’d feared. “I’m so sorry, Stefano. If there is anything I can do—”

“You can obey a direct order from now on, okay?”

“Of course,” she said and hoped he couldn’t hear the lie in her voice.

He shifted closer, his mouth quirking just so while desire softened the hard glint in his eyes. “What is going through your mind right now?”

Unbidden came the memory of them locked together in passion, writhing as one. She quivered at each deep rasp of his breath, of his spicy scent that teased her senses and clung to her skin yesterday morning. That seemed a lifetime away now.

He’d been dominant yet gentle, not this domineering man who had the ability to shift from intractable to sensual in the blink of an eye. Right now it was all she could do to keep her spine pressed to the wall when she wanted to bow into his body.

“I’m concerned about Cesare,” she said. “And we have unsettled business between us.”

“You are worried about our personal contract?”

She nodded, for though she wanted to trust him at his word, she knew she’d be a fool to do so. Especially since she was sure to displease him when she suddenly disappeared later today.

He lightly grazed her cheek with a bent knuckle. Tendrils of energy flowed from his touch to set her insides spiraling out of control.

“It will be drafted by tomorrow and ready for your signature, ” he breathed near her ear.

She gave in to a shiver. “Good. I can sign it when I return from visiting my nonna.”

“When did you decide to do this?” he asked, trailing that finger down her throat.

“After that episode with my brother,” she breathed, fighting the urge to tip her head back and sigh her pleasure.

“I’ll go with you.”

“No. I need to do this alone and you need to stay here with Cesare,” she said, and when his eyes narrowed she added, “Please. She wouldn’t understand me bringing my boss home.”

“Very well. We will sign the papers upon your return, then celebrate tomorrow night, hmm?”

“Yes,” she said, her breath quickening at the thought of lying in his arms again.

His fingers stroked her throat before spreading around her neck, not with threatening pressure but firm nonetheless. “Who is Rachel?”

She went deadly still, unable to move. He’d heard her talking to herself after all.

Gemma couldn’t swallow. Couldn’t do anything but stare up into his eyes that had gone hard and black again.

“The child of a dear friend,” she said, speaking the truth and knowing he’d doubt her.

“Don’t lie to me,” he said.

“I’m not,” she said.

She sensed the subtle shift of emotion in Stefano, a tightening of his muscles. A snap of annoyance in his eyes.

He pressed his face close to hers and she helplessly lifted her head for the kiss that wasn’t about to come. And why would she even want to kiss a man who was being irrationally obdurate?

But he surprised her with a quick, hard kiss that left her wanting so much more. He withdrew his mobile and punched in a number. “I’ll have my driver take you to the train station. He’ll be waiting for you at the door.”

“That isn’t necessary.”

“I insist.”

He was laying down an order that she had no intention of obeying.

She had something important to do before she boarded the train to Milan. Something that would only raise more questions if he knew. Questions that she still couldn’t answer.

“Thank you,” she said with a smile, and hoped to hell he couldn’t read the lie in her eyes.

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