Читать книгу Untamed Italians - Janette Kenny - Страница 12

“I HATE you!” She tossed her napkin on the table, unwilling to sit here a moment longer with such a ruthless man. Mio Dio, what a nightmare!

“I could care less what you think of me, Miss Cardone.”

She wasn’t surprised for he was surely the most heartless man she’d ever had the displeasure of meeting. “Did you gain great satisfaction stripping my brother of his means to make a living?”

Stefano’s muscular frame tensed, like a large cat waking from a nap and sensing trouble. “Your brother offered the vessel in order to remain in the game. If I hadn’t paid his price, someone else would have.”

She knew he was right, but facing the awful truth was crushing. Behind her back Emilio had been living the life of a playboy even though he didn’t have the funds to squander. For how many months had he deceived them all?

Too many, she feared. She truly believed her brother had beaten his addiction over a year ago. But she’d been wrong.

She’d never dreamed he’d lie and hide the truth from her and in the process lose the business their father had worked and died for. And now because of his false promise to help her tonight, because she’d trusted her brother, she stood to lose her half of the inn!

“Scusi,” she said and made for the door, her mind racing to find the swiftest means to reach Monte Carlo.

“Where are you going?”

“To my brother.”

“Why? What do you hope to accomplish by going there?”

“To stop him from this gambling binge he’s on.” And if possible, claim what was due her before the dreaded deadline.

“He won’t listen to you, bella.”

He grabbed her arm and pulled her to him, his gaze darkly intense and pulsing with anger and vengeance and another emotion that was there and gone before she could recognize it. And then there was the power of his long, lean fingers snaked around her arm and the fire and energy arcing from him to her like a lightning storm, making her knees weak and her heart heavy.

Why did he have to be so ruthless?

He cupped her cheek in his palm and she blinked back sudden tears, for his tenderness mocked the animosity he held for her. “Even if you could reason with him, he’s in a high stakes game that plays hard and fast.”

She wasn’t sure what that meant, but she knew she could only do one thing. Honor the promise she’d made to her parents. To Nonna.

“All the more reason for me to go there now.”

She jerked from Stefano and ran from the room, hating that she drew attention to herself, hating that she didn’t know how she could stop this avalanche of doom descending on her family.

Stefano caught up to her just as she reached the main room. As before he pressed a hand to the small of her back and she came up short, as if there was an invisible thread between them that only he controlled.

“How do you intend to get there at this hour?” he asked in a deceptively low calm voice.

“I don’t know. A plane, perhaps.”

“You will end up waiting for hours. The game could be over by then.”

“Then I’ll rent a car and drive the distance.”

“Unacceptable.”

They stepped outside and he snapped his fingers, sending the attendant rushing to fetch his car.

“I suppose you have a better idea?” she asked.

A darkening scowl crossed his features, giving him that fierce gladiator mien again. At that moment she believed him capable of conquering anything. Her brother. Her. The world.

“Let your brother sink or swim. It is over, bella. You can’t change him and you can’t meet the deadline. Accept it.”

“I won’t stand by and do nothing.”

The tendons in his neck stood out and his dark eyes blazed with anger at her defiance. Not that she cared what he thought.

It was her family who would suffer.

But even if Stefano had any concept of family, he’d not care about the turmoil she suffered. She had to talk sense into her brother and get him help before he was in debt so deeply he’d never get out.

“I will not allow you to do this.”

Gemma gaped at Stefano. Was he serious?

“You can’t stop me.”

She knew that was the wrong thing to say when his eyes darkened to that feral black again. But he held his thoughts and she suspected that was because they were surrounded by people.

But she knew a cauldron of anger boiled within him. Anger at her brother, at her. At his father?

It was the reason why that puzzled her.

Then she recalled what had started this all. He’d mentioned the vast sum Cesare had spent the past year. Money he’d used for his daughter’s care as well as the generous gift he’d insisted she have.

Her nest egg for a better tomorrow though she’d spent it all on the inn. Her nonna had lived long enough in squalor.

Gemma wasn’t about to let her continue to do so, not when she finally had the means to make the necessary repairs. If Cesare hadn’t needed her, she would have returned to Manarolo and taken over the inn herself. It wasn’t as if she’d be usurping her sister-in-law’s duties!

But she couldn’t tell Stefano any of that, for to do so would reveal the secret she’d swore to hold for Cesare. Now seeing how little regard Stefano held for family, she didn’t dare trust him with the truth.

“You can’t meet the deadline for the loan,” he said as he escorted her to his car. “Which means I will own your half of the inn. If you hope to negotiate a means to regain the title, you would be wise to do as I tell you to do.”

Gemma’s heart stuttered, aware that domineering threat wasn’t a mere boast. But was he serious about giving her a chance to regain her half of the inn? “What are you suggesting?”

“We’ll discuss it later.” He motioned for her to get in the car, his expression carefully devoid of emotion again. “You want to go to Monte Carlo tonight, then I will take you.”

“Then neither of us will be back at work in the morning,” she said as she got in the car.

“Work can wait.”

In moments he’d slid behind the wheel and cut into traffic with the expertise of a Formula 1 driver and she realized he was dead serious.

She didn’t relish the idea of racing over the mountains in the middle of the night with Stefano Marinetti. But she couldn’t waste another second reaching her brother, either.

“How long will it take to drive there?”

“Too long. We are taking my helicopter.”

He couldn’t be serious.

But as he turned onto the main road and sped back toward the shipyard, she knew that Stefano Marinetti wasn’t jesting.

An hour later, Stefano set down the helicopter in the executive heliport at Monte Carlo. Gemma hadn’t said a word since they’d lifted off, even though he’d fitted her with earphones.

But then he hadn’t felt obliged to strike up a conversation, either. For one thing, the night-flight had demanded all his concentration. For another he didn’t trust himself to remain impassive when the very air they breathed pulsed with tension.

Though he’d expected it, he still found it galling that she’d asked for an extension on the damned loan. “Cesare would’ve granted it,” she’d said, and he was certain she was right.

That was all the reminder he’d needed to believe that she’d appeal to his father as soon as she could. She’d get back in Cesare’s good graces and his bed.

But the possibility of her taking her position further loomed large before him, especially now that she stood to lose her shares of the inn. Marriage would cement her place in his father’s life and grant her the power to do whatever the hell she wished with what little money remained.

And considering her devotion to her brother, that money would likely find its way to Monte Carlo.

No, he couldn’t let her near his father. Instead he must make a more attractive proposition to her, and he must give her little chance to refuse.

As soon as it was safe to exit the helicopter, he hurried her across the helipad and into the waiting limo. His blood heated from the light scent that was uniquely hers and the excitement that crackled in the air. From the fact that when this nasty business was concluded here, he and Gemma would form a new arrangement.

That she’d be his.

Flashes of lights confirmed the paparazzi were out in force, leading him to believe that more celebrities than usual were partaking of the games of chance or just visiting on the chance to be noticed partying among the ultrarich.

He’d never found this jet-set lifestyle appealing. Staying on the cutting edge of his business and promoting it to its fullest kept him on the go. Unlike a good number of his contemporaries, he preferred to celebrate his successes with a select few or in private with a beautiful woman.

Like Gemma?

He shoved that thought from his mind and concentrated on what had brought him here tonight. Gemma.

How ironic that just two weeks ago Jean Paul had goaded him to come gamble. Buying Cardone’s old trawler had made it worth his time.

And now?

The last text message he’d received from Jean Paul hinted at a repeat of the last time he’d been pitted against Cardone. Only this victory tonight would be over Gemma.

It would be all the sweeter. When she saw her brother fail this time, she’d have no choice but to accept what Stefano offered. No choice at all.

“How in the world will I find Emilio here?” Gemma asked, her voice so low he wondered if she was talking to herself.

The hand he had pressed to her spine slid to her side—all to get a better hold on her as they wended their way through this throng. It had nothing to do with offering her comfort for the turmoil she’d face in the next hour. Nothing!

“Cardone is in the poker room engaged in a high stakes game,” he said. “He has lost the last two hands.”

“How do you know that?” she asked.

“My friend sent me a message some time ago,” he said.

She stopped and stared at him. “Did you hire your friend to gamble against Emilio?”

“No, Jean Paul is a billionaire with a talent and desire to gamble on his off time.” He didn’t bother to mention Jean Paul was a celebrated Formula 1 driver, for what was the point?

“Come. We’ll join the audience, but you must remain quiet,” he said. “Any disruption will have you removed.”

She glared at him for the longest time with nothing short of hatred. With a huff, she turned and strode down the hall, back impossibly rigid.

Fine. He would rather she hate him; he could deal with that better than coping with the desire and empathy she’d stirred to life in him earlier. If she raised a ruckus, she’d find herself hustled from the room.

It would only make the tension between them all the more stronger later when they sat down to business. Yes, they were waging their own high stakes games. But he would win.

He could make her want him. He could make her wild with desire. He would have his vengeance!

Because he intended to blackmail her into his bed? His cheeks burned, a rarity to be sure.

But for all his shrewd business sense, he’d never mistreated a woman in his life. Never! Not even the one he’d brought home to meet his parents and who set her sights on his brother.

But that anger that always roared to life failed to come. In its place was a new emotion. Stronger. More volatile.

This business between him and Gemma had meaning. This fired his blood.

This was archaic thinking. It was something he’d never done and never thought to do with a woman.

But he couldn’t back down. Not now. Not when the scent of her filled his senses, when the brief kiss they’d shared inflamed his desire.

“Marinetti,” he told the guard at the door.

The man nodded and stepped aside without a word.

Gemma hesitated, but Stefano’s hand to her back hurried her inside. A row of plush chairs cast in shadow faced the tables.

She eased onto a chair and stared at him with eyes that were too huge and too filled with an emotion he couldn’t grasp. The deep sense of hurt that dimmed her eyes charged the tension-filled air and raised the hair at his nape.

“Call,” said the Russian mogul playing against Cardone.

The last chips where thrust forward. The cards revealed. Cardone lost.

She looked at Stefano and asked in a whisper, “Is it over?”

He nodded in answer, and her narrow shoulders bowed. In fact her entire body seemed to cave in on itself.

Damn her brother for doing this to her. Then he damned himself for letting her get to him. For wanting to take her in his arms and comfort her.

“All players must purchase the required chips before the start of the next game.”

Cardone pushed from the table and stalked to the bank, a trip he’d undoubtedly made countless times. “I have title to property. Will you take that as surety for a stake in the next game?”

“Yes, if you have it with you.”

“What is he doing?” Gemma said, her tension so acute Stefano felt it abrading his nerves.

Cardone produced a document and handed it to the bank. “The inn on Manarolo is in good condition and makes a modest profit.”

The bank took the paper. “One moment to verify this, sir.”

“No! He doesn’t own the inn.” She rushed to her brother, drawing all eyes to her.

Stefano followed on her heels, wanting to believe that Gemma had lied all along about the ownership of the inn. But her reaction was too genuine to be staged.

She was shocked by her brother’s actions to the point of hysteria.

Cardone whirled on her then, eyes widening with surprise before narrowing in anger. “What are you doing here?”

“Stopping you from making a mistake,” she said. “How did you get Nonna’s shares of the inn?”

Her brother let out a smug laugh. “Nonna is already heartbroken that you lost your half of the inn to Marinetti.”

“You told her about that?” she asked, her voice dropping to a choked whisper.

“Of course. She signed over her half of the inn to me, the family who has stayed by her side this past year.”

“The family who is about to gamble away our heritage!” She clasped trembling hands over her mouth and stared at her brother as if he were a stranger. “What are you thinking? The inn is your home. It’s our family’s livelihood. You live there. Your wife works with Nonna and affords you a modest income off the guests.”

“Peasant wages,” Cardone spat. “I want more for my family and myself.” He flicked a damning glower at Stefano. “I want the kind of life your rich boss enjoys.”

“Then work for it!”

“Trust me in this, mio serella,” Cardone said to Gemma, the endearment sounding false to Stefano’s ears. “When I win this pot you’ll never have to bow and scrape for a milionario again,” he said, inclining his head Stefano’s way. “You would be independently wealthy.”

“You can’t risk our home,” she said, and Stefano realized the source of her fear.

He owned her shares now, and if her brother sold his, then their family would be cast out on the street. The inn that had been handed down from generation to generation would be lost.

Cardone grasped Gemma’s upper arms and drew her close. Her startled gasp touched something inside Stefano, something that smacked of jealousy. Something that spurred him to protect her any way he could.

He just barely stayed the urge to shove Cardone aside and take Gemma into his arms. Just barely. And that admission enraged him for he had just proven he was no better than his father around her.

“Your home,” Cardone repeated, the biting sarcasm in his voice hushing those in the room again. “You would do anything to hold on to that crumbling pile of stones, even sell yourself to an old man.”

“Apologize to the lady,” Stefano said, barely restraining himself from physically hauling Cardone outside and laying into him.

Never mind he had accused Gemma of the same thing. He had not voiced such crudities in public.

“Defending her?” Cardone asked, setting his sister aside.

“In this attack? Sì.”

Which made no sense because Stefano had wanted to publicly humiliate her. He’d wanted to ruin her and recover as much of his father’s property and money as he could.

Cardone sneered at Gemma. “You go from doting on one Marinetti to the other and turn your back on your brother.”

“You don’t want my help. You just want what money I can spare so you can toss it away on the turn of a card.”

She turned to Stefano but didn’t look him in the eyes, seeming shamed and weary and oh so vulnerable. “Please, take me away from here. I can’t bear to watch anymore.”

This was his chance to walk away and complete her humiliation. This was the time to put her in her place once and for all and defend his family’s honor.

Honor.

To an Italian, honor was everything. But the timing felt wrong. This wasn’t the place or time.

“The title is verified,” the bank said to Cardone.

“Take her away from here,” Cardone said, then turned to accept the casino’s offer.

Nobody noticed Gemma’s distress and obvious depression. Nobody but Stefano.

“I’ll give you five hundred thousand euros for the title,” Stefano said, doing this for himself for he had no desire to have a stranger as his partner.

It had nothing to do with Gemma’s crushing defeat. Nothing to do with revenge. He did not want to feel anything for this woman but disgust. She’d all but stolen from his father, yet she portrayed the injured party so well now that he almost sympathized with her.

Cardone smirked and snatched the title from the bank. “I accept your offer, Marinetti.”

“Think of what this will do to Nonna,” Gemma said, her voice rough with emotion now.

But Cardone merely shrugged. “Perhaps the new owner will allow her to stay on there, if given the proper incentives.”

And again Stefano wanted to throttle the man for his crude innuendoes hurled at Gemma in public. It went without saying that the old woman could live out her days in her home. But he refused to comment now.

Far too much had been said already.

A quiet hum resumed in the room with gamblers taking their places for the next game. He caught the questioning look in his friend’s eye, but didn’t attempt to engage in conversation.

This wasn’t the time.

He wanted out of here before he truly did lose his temper with Cardone. Just one more insult to Gemma was all it would take, and wasn’t that a thorn for Stefano to contend with?

The transaction went swiftly with Cardone signing his name with a flourish and Gemma standing stiff and solemn beside Stefano.

He tucked the title in his suit pocket then pressed a hand to her back. “It is time to leave, bella.”

She simply nodded and walked out with her head high.

He caught himself admiring her pride in the face of such adversity.

It was over. He owned the inn now.

But he felt no victory. Not yet.

He controlled what she wanted most. The inn. The question was what would she agree to do to gain back the title.