Innocent in the Italian's Possession

This time it was his turn to frown, for his hasty investigation of her revealed she was the daughter of a fisherman from Cinque Terre. Her only family was a grandmother who lived in Manarolo, and a brother who had a weakness for gambling.

He’d been unaware that she owned property, but the fact it was a business raised his suspicions.

“What inn?” he asked, careful to keep his tone casual.

“My family’s inn in Manarolo.” Her eyes blazed with such passion that his own anger cooled for a heartbeat. “It has been in my family for generations, passing from mother to daughter. Since my mamma died long ago, my nonna and I own it. But it was falling into disrepair. I’ve refurbished much of it with the money Cesare loaned me. It is beginning to do quite well with tourists.”

As well it should, since she’d likely poured a small fortune into the restoration of it. Money that was drained from his father’s business!

“Your nine months are up,” he said. “Where is your contract so I may review the loan details?”

“Cesare and I had a verbal agreement. He never got around to deciding on a monthly cost I could afford.”

“Then I must remedy that for my father,” he said, and had the satisfaction of seeing a damning flush steal over her pale cheeks. “I’ll have Umberto draw up the papers. Can we agree on payment in full within three months with the first installment due the first of the month?”

Her lush lips thinned and he saw a second’s uncertainty flicker in her eyes. “Yes, of course.”

She agreed far too quickly. More than likely she’d been salting the excess money away. Possibly she’d invested it and could pay back the loan in due time.

But there was the possibility she thought to disappear and then he’d be cheated of his vengeance.

He couldn’t let that happen. He had to hold her to their agreement and he knew of only one thing she seemed to prize above everything.

“For collateral, I’ll hold your half of the inn until the loan is repaid in full,” he said.

“No!” The worry lines deepening on her brow proved she didn’t like that idea at all.

“Do you have something else you can put up in its place? Something of similar value?”

“No, nothing,” she said.

“Then we have a deal?”

“Yes,” she said, though it was more a hiss.

Though Stefano Marinetti prided himself on being a passionate lover, he excelled at coming out on top in any business transaction he entered into.

This was cold, hard business.

Still, his fingers curled around hers, gauging the strength of the delicate bones and admiring the texture of her silken skin. If he was a brutal man, he could crush her hand as surely as he intended to crush her future with Marinetti.

He lifted her hand to his mouth and dropped a kiss on the back of her smooth, small hand. Her gasp echoed in the stillness and vibrated over his skin in a featherlight caress. He felt her telltale tremble before she jerked her hand away, seeming as shaken by her reaction as he was.

“You surprise me, Miss Cardone. I expected a more—” he paused to let his gaze touch the tense curve of her mouth, the too rapid rise and fall of her breasts, then back to her tempting mouth again “—personal deal from you.”

“What could be more personal than me placing my family’s inn up as a guarantee on my loan?”

He sent her a heated smile that deepened her blush. “You. But it is just as well you didn’t make such an offer for I would have refused your favors.” In fact he’d looked forward to doing just that so she’d know he couldn’t be beguiled. So she’d know he was in charge here—in business and in seduction!

Her expressive eyes flared with the fire of anger. “You’re vile.”

He smiled, for he’d been called far worse. “I simply play to win in all things. Should you fail to make your first payment, I will seize your family’s inn.”

Then she’d regret the day she set out to deceive his father. Then he’d have the satisfaction of hurting her like she’d hurt his mother.

“You shall have the first payment before the month is out,” she said.

“I should hope so, bella, since this is the first of the month,” he said, and saw genuine shock register in her eyes. “Today is the due date for your first payment.”

“No! It can’t be.”

“I assure you it is. You have until midnight tonight to meet the terms of the loan or forfeit your collateral. Do not bother to ask for an extension or alteration to the terms for the answer will be no. Remember that, Miss Cardone.”

CHAPTER THREE

THERE was little chance she’d ever forget that Mr. Arrogant was in total charge of his father’s company. And her?

Only temporarily.

“That’s less than twelve hours away,” she said, fighting the panic that left her trembling inside.

He gave another lazy shrug. “You’ve owed a first payment for months. Are you conceding defeat?”

“Not at all. I’ll have the money by tonight.”

Gemma just wished she felt half as sure as she let on.

She had a little money put back and hoped her brother could loan her the rest. It shouldn’t be a problem as he’d told her countless times of late that he’d had excellent luck at sea with his fishing business.

But even after that deadline was met, another one loomed in thirty days. And another after that. What a nightmare she’d entered into!

She couldn’t continue borrowing money from her family. No, her only recourse would be to take out a loan at the bank. At least then she could get more favorable terms. At least then she wouldn’t be subjected to Stefano Marinetti’s lurid suggestions.

There was no time like the present to appeal to Cesare’s banker, either. Being indebted to Stefano was simply too stressful for her. Being in the same room with him was nearly more than she could bear.

Since Signora Marinetti’s funeral when she’d first seen Stefano across the crowded room, she’d had trouble tearing her gaze away from the man whose bearing commanded her full attention. She’d known he’d bring trouble and change.

She just hadn’t dreamed it would touch her so personally. She hated the power he exerted over her as much as she hated the untenable position she was in.

“Your ability to meet the deadline deserves celebration,” he said, his voice a rich blend of arrogance and sensuality that whispered over her senses like silk on skin.

“That isn’t necessary.” Or wanted.

The less she was in his company the better.

He lounged back in his chair and stroked his lower lip with one long, blunt finger, the gesture masculinely contemplative and sexy as hell. “I insist.”

“Fine,” she said when this arrangement was anything but. “Is there anything else you need?” she asked in her most bland business tone, a contradiction to the riot of emotions going on inside her.