The Billionaires' Club. Rebecca Winters

hadn’t known that. “Then there’s no problem.”

      Lines darkened his striking features. “You’re wrong, Gemma. As for your expertise as a chef, the desserts made by you overwhelmed the committee. You have to know the decision to hire you was unanimous.”

      “I’ll never really know, will I?”

      His chest rose and fell visibly. “What do I have to do to convince you? Both Takis and Cesare are connoisseurs of fine food and wine. They recognize what will bring heads of state, kings, princes and world celebrities to the hotel over and over again. They chose you.”

      “Does it matter? I have interviews with two restaurateurs in Barcelona and London. If one of them hires me, I’ll know I got the job for my cooking ability, nothing else.”

      She climbed behind the wheel. At least he didn’t try to stop her.

      “Where are you going?”

      “Back to Florence.”

      “To the Bonucci Bakery? I saw the address on your application.”

      “Yes.”

      He stood there with his legs slightly apart, piercing her with those fabulous eyes. “You’ll be driving in heavy traffic.”

      Since when had that become a concern? For the last ten years he hadn’t known if she were dead or alive. He’d been flying from New York to Milan for the last six months on business. Her temper flared again.

      “Vincenzo—I haven’t been a teenager for years and I love to drive.” She started the engine.

      He moved closer. “Before you leave, tell me about your mother. How is she?”

      Her bitter laugh shook him to the core. “She’s alive and well, not that you’d care or be the least bit interested. Now I really have to go.”

      To her profound relief, he stepped back so she could drive away. Through the rearview mirror she saw his incredibly male physique standing there until she rounded the next corner.

      The irony of running away from him after looking for him all these years wasn’t lost on her. She drove back to Florence feeling as if she’d jumped off a precipice into the void.

       CHAPTER FOUR

      VINCENZO REACHED FOR his phone and left a message for the guys to say that he wouldn’t be back at the castello until late. There were other calls from his assistant and his attorney in New York on his voice mail. None of them sounded urgent. He would deal with them later. But Annette’s latest message demanded his attention. Earlier that morning he’d promised to call her back.

      After putting on his sunglasses, he climbed in his Maserati and followed Gemma to Florence. The satellite navigation would lead him to the Bonucci Bakery. There was no way he would let her turn things around and disappear on him. He needed the chance to talk to her. The depth of her pain had caused him to reel. This was worse than anything he’d imagined if he’d ever seen her again.

      While he was en route, he phoned Annette.

      “Is it possible you’ve found some time for me?” she teased, but he heard her underlying impatience and didn’t blame her.

      “I’m sorry, but I’ve had business that has taken priority.”

      “Vince, you seem different. What’s wrong?”

      There was no way to explain to her what was going on inside him right now. But Annette deserved to hear how he felt even if it was going to hurt her. “You’ve asked me before if there was a special woman in my life. I’ve told you no and would never lie to you about that. But in my youth I fell in love with an Italian girl I haven’t seen or heard from in ten years. Today I met up with her by accident.”

      He was still trying to recover.

      After an ominous quiet, she said, “So what are you saying? That after all this time you find you’re still in love and don’t want me to come for the opening?”

      He took a deep breath. “I’m saying that a big portion of my past caught up with me today. To be frank, I’m reeling.” It wouldn’t have been fair to lie to her.

      “I sensed there was someone else all this time. She must have a powerful hold on you for those feelings to have lasted over a decade.”

      “Annette, I can’t honestly tell you where this is headed.”

      What he did know was that seeing Gemma again had stirred up longings in him more intense than he could ever have imagined. To find out that Gemma wasn’t married yet was a miracle. But her anger had been so intense, he needed to talk to her about it.

      “Neither can I,” Annette murmured. “Under the circumstances, I don’t intend to wait for calls from you that might not come.”

      “I haven’t meant to hurt you.”

      “I realize that, but on my part I always felt something was holding you back. If you ever figure it out and find yourself whole of heart, you know where to find me.”

      Even deeply upset, she had a graciousness and maturity he had to admire. “I’m sorry, Annette. Give me some time and I’ll get back to you.”

      “I won’t be holding my breath, Vince.”

      He heard the click.

      Though Vincenzo hadn’t wanted to cause her pain, his sense of relief that he didn’t have to pretend with her had removed a burden. He’d told her the only truth he knew, since he needed time to deal with his emotions.

      The reality of seeing Gemma again, the incredible coincidence that she’d applied for the pastry chef position, had knocked the foundations from under him.

      At ten after six, he entered Florence at the height of evening traffic and found the Bonucci pastry shop. After searching everywhere for her old Fiat, he drove around the corner into an alley. Her blue car sat beside a stairway leading to the second floor of the bakery.

      He found another spot along the crowded one-way street. Once he’d parked his car at the rear of the pasteria next door, he took the steps two at a time to the little porch outside her door. To think all these years since leaving the castello this place had been her home. How could he or Dimi have known?

      He knocked twice.

      Soon he heard, “Chi e?”

      He was glad she didn’t automatically open the door. Anyone could be out here. “It’s Vincenzo. I would have phoned you I was coming, but I wasn’t sure you would answer.”

      There was a long silence. “Go away!”

      “I can’t. Surely you can see that,” he fought back. “I never expected any of this to happen. Even if you refuse to come to work for us, how could you think I would just let you drive away?”

      “I’m not going to open my door. Go back to your home, Vincenzo.”

      What home? He hadn’t known that feeling in the ten years since he’d last been with her. He broke out in a cold sweat. So much damage had been done, he didn’t know if he could repair any of it, even if he told her the real truth of everything.

      “Would you deny your time to any other person you knew well in the past who wanted to get reacquainted after a long period of separation? Since I’ve come all this way and am starving, let’s have dinner at the pasteria next door. We’ll order some wine and reminisce over a time when life was wonderful for both of us.”

      “That would be a mistake.”

      “You don’t recommend the food? If anyone would know whether it was good or not, you’re the one.”

      “Be serious, Vincenzo,” she snapped.

      “I’m trying to be. You