Mistresses: Blackmailed For His Pleasure. Annie West

a provocative woman. He loved and respected women. He loved to make love to them. He ached to make love with this one!

      Though he could neither respect nor like Gemma for the heartache she’d brought his family, she did appeal to him on a purely physical level.

      Okay, maybe it was more than that. He was moderately impressed that she had carried on an affair with his father for nine months and managed to cloak their assignations under the guise of business trips. Her cunning was ample reason why he must end this nasty business with her as soon as possible.

      He’d stepped in to save Marinetti Shipyard from his father’s lapse of good judgment and a calculating woman’s machinations. He would not fall victim to her charms, too.

      Stefano shut the car door a bit harder than he had intended and swore as the sound echoed his annoyance in the nearempty parking lot. But she barely flinched.

      His anger mounted as he rounded the sleek front of his car and threw himself behind the wheel, barely sparing her a glance. She raised an eyebrow, as if chastising him for his show of temper.

      And that made his blood boil.

      For a woman who stood to lose her historic inn, she seemed suspiciously calm. She must have arranged for the first payment to be met.

      Fine! He would take her money tonight. He’d let her win this round, but that would be her last victory.

      Annoyance thrummed his nerves as he turned over the powerful engine and steered the car into traffic. The pleasure he usually gained behind the wheel of the luxury automobile was absent.

      Gemma occupied his thoughts. He was certain she’d been the reason his parents had launched into a vicious argument—an argument that ended with his father suffering a heart attack and losing control of his car on that fateful night.

      He would do well to remember that.

      He tightened his fingers on the supple leather steering and for a brief moment wondered if he’d made a colossal error in judgment. When he confronted her about the money she’d taken from his father—the “loan” as she called it—he’d expected her to beg for lenience. He’d thought she’d proposition him into forgiving the debt, or at the least take it out in trade.

      He’d never dreamed she’d agree to repay the loan, or that she’d actually come forth with any money. If she did honor that agreement, it would take years for her to repay the debt. He’d never be free of her conniving ways!

      And where was the taste of vengeance in that? There would be none.

      No, he would not let her off easy. He had to hurt her as she’d hurt his family. The inn seemed to be the key.

      The inn that she’d elaborately redesigned with his papa’s money!

      But even that wasn’t enough.

      No, he wanted to publicly humiliate her. He wanted all to see her for what she was—a scheming wanton.

      Then maybe he’d feel vindicated. Then his mamma’s honor would be appeased.

      Yes, he’d retain her as his secretary, even if it meant generously extending his own secretary’s vacation. From there it should be a simple thing to give the impression that Gemma was much more than an employee.

      All he had to do was be less circumspect in his dealings with Gemma and more attentive to her. He had to tamp down his anger and openly flirt with her.

      The gossips would do the rest, creating a romance and thereby diverting attention away from his parents’ scandal. If she began to believe she was charming him, then all the better.

      Watching her hopes rise and then plummet would be a far more satisfying revenge.

      “A friend of mine owns a boutique in Pisa,” he said as he sped down the coastal autostrada. “I am sure you will find a cocktail dress there.”

      “I see no reason to buy something new when I have perfectly suitable clothes in my flat,” she said, her chin lifted in challenge.

      Designer clothes that his papa had purchased, or more of the same demure garments like she wore now? Since nobody claimed to have seen his papa and her out on the town, he suspected she hadn’t been treated that lavishly.

      And of course since she shunned the trappings of a mistress, the liaison had continued with nobody the wiser. Sly. Very sly.

      “Consider the dress a gift for your dedication to my father and Marinetti Shipping,” he said, forcing a warm smile that he didn’t feel.

      She didn’t voice a protest, but the pinched look on her face said she didn’t like this at all.

      Stefano’s smile deepened. When he was through with her, everyone would know she was his paid paramour.

      Gemma stared at herself in the dressing room mirror, trying without success to block Stefano’s rich laugh as he chatted with the designer and flirted with any female who ventured near. She’d looked out earlier to find him lounging in a chair with a glass of wine dangling from his long tanned fingers.

      Every move he made was fluid, like a maestro conducting an orchestra. The silent music was a sensual caress that left her skin tingling. Left her restive yet compelled her to sway to the rhythm pounding in her blood.

      His aura was so powerful to her senses that she had to literally tear her gaze from him to break the spell.

      Mio Dio! How could she find such a callous man attractive?

      It vexed her that Stefano had given everyone here the impression they were an item. Protesting would have only drawn more attention to her and the arrogant billionaire, so she closeted herself in the dressing room to try on the selection of dresses that Stefano had chosen.

      He’d laughed and said it wasn’t necessary to test the fit. And he had been annoyingly right!

      The teal cocktail dress fit her to perfection. The color emphasized the blue-green of her eyes and complemented her fair complexion that she’d inherited from her English mother.

      The plunging neckline gave more than a teasing peek of the deep valley between her bosom. It also exposed the dainty necklace that her papa had given her.

      A sad smile tugged at her mouth as she ran a finger over the pendant suspended on a fine gold chain. How long had he saved to buy the aquamarine surrounded by tiny diamonds? Months? Perhaps a year?

      Her fingers tightened around the necklace. It looked insignificant paired with this dress that cost more than two months’ wages. But then Stefano’s friend was Vanni—a new yet much desired designer!

      “Ah, I see you do have jewelry,” Stefano said from the doorway of her dressing room, startling her by his boldness. “I hadn’t noticed earlier.”

      “How dare you barge in here!”

      His sculpted lips curved into a devilish smile. “You will find I dare many things.”

      She dreaded to imagine what else he had in store for her.

      “The dress fits you to perfection,” he said.

      She refused to warm to the compliment. “I don’t wear daring necklines.”

      “You should,” he said. “It is a shame to cover such beauty.”

      “Such flattery,” she said, trying to sound glib though she trembled inside with anger and that damning sensual pull. “I’m sure you flirt outrageously with every woman you meet.”

      “Sì, but I only compliment the ones who justly deserve it.”

      She couldn’t think of a thing to say to that remark so she just affected a calm she didn’t feel and smiled up at him. Meeting his gaze head-on was a mistake.

      His dark eyes glittered with amusement and passion, and the firm line of his mouth curved into a disarming smile, transforming him from the hard resolute man into a devilish charmer.