Mistresses: Blackmailed For His Pleasure. Annie West

that point on she’d succeeded in driving a wedge between him and his brother. That had been the major reason he’d left Marinetti Shipyard. He couldn’t tolerate being around her and deal with her lies. He wouldn’t suffer his brother’s distrust of him in business or being around his conniving wife.

      His mamma knew the truth, and he suspected his papa did, too, but neither brought it up.

      Their new daughter-in-law quickly got with child. The next heir to the shipyard. The first Marinetti grandson which both his parents had doted on.

      It had been easier for Stefano to strike out on his own than to cause more strife in his own family. He made his mark and set his own dream for a new shipping company into motion.

      But even after the tragic accident that took his brother’s, sister-in-law’s and nephew’s lives he couldn’t return to Marinetti. His father still scoffed at his innovations, and refused to compromise.

      Yet here he was, thrust into the role of manager. Forced to contend with another scheming woman who had designs on Marinetti Shipyard.

      Did Gemma hope to take his mamma’s place?

      It was a possibility Stefano couldn’t ignore for she’d managed to gain a small fortune in a short amount of time. But the stress of keeping up with a young lover and hiding his affair from his wife—no, the world!—had damned near killed his father.

      With his mamma dead, there was nothing to stop his papa from easing his grief in Gemma’s arms. Nothing but Stefano.

      He couldn’t tolerate his father making Miss Cardone his wife. He couldn’t see his mamma’s memory dishonored so. He’d not stand by while another gold-digger bled a Marinetti dry!

      He’d turned his back the last time. He wouldn’t make that mistake again!

      Stefano climbed from behind the wheel and nodded to the waiting attendant. A few lights flashed from the line of trim poplars at the side.

      He immediately schooled his features, though any damage would already be done. He’d caught the attention of the paparazzi who had staked out the restaurant in hopes that a celebrity would happen by tonight. They typically chose an image that conveyed the greatest emotion and slapped some idiotic caption on it.

      The media hounds were a nuisance he’d learned to live with. But Gemma and his father had smoothly evaded any limelight on their trysts to Milan.

      Of course up until his mamma’s untimely death, his parents had been free of the paparazzi for ten years. His insides twisted at the memory.

      The deaths of his brother and his family had drawn the gossips in hoards and had driven his parents into hiding.

      Stefano remembered well how the journalists had camped out on the edge of their property, waiting for the chance to capture their grief. Vultures, all of them.

      Since then Stefano had done all in his power to evade publicity as well. Thankfully time had tempered his animosity.

      But this business with Gemma had his old resentment bubbling to the surface again. She was the opposite of his sister-in-law in looks and disposition yet was just as cunning and manipulative.

      Gemma had awakened passionately fierce emotions in him that he’d vowed never to fall victim to again! Yet hadn’t he done just that when he’d kissed her in his office?

      He was not above seducing her to satisfy his lust, but he would not surrender his pride or his head to her.

      He wouldn’t let history repeat itself!

      Stefano rounded the Alpha Romeo with quick angry strides as an attendant helped Gemma get out. More lights flashed from the perimeter and people on the sidewalk stopped to see what celebrity was dining here tonight.

      Gemma cast a frantic glance his way and for a moment he almost felt pity for her. Almost.

      He offered his arm out of duty and she latched on to it. Though he had zero respect for her duplicity, he was man enough to admit she was a beautiful, desirable woman. Even without the attention of the paparazzi, heads would have turned toward her.

      Sì, their pictures would grace the gossip rags tomorrow. Speculation would be ripe of the identity of his dinner companion.

      It was just a matter of time before someone recognized her as his father’s secretary. Then the gossips would question if this was a business dinner, or something more intimate.

      “Buonasera, Signor Marinetti!” the host said as Stefano pressed his fingers to Gemma’s slender back to guide her to the podium. “Your private room is ready.”

       “Grazie!”

      He knew she was a schemer and manipulator, yet his body quickened whenever he touched her. He should be imagining her slaving to repay what she’d stolen instead of picturing her lounging on a bed with her arms reaching for him.

      Damning his inability to douse his lust where she was concerned, he hurried her along in the host’s wake down an intimately lighted hall. The telling stiffening of her back proved she was eager to break contact with him as well.

      Could she be fighting her own desires? Or was she simply playing hard to get so his indomitable male pride would goad him to pursue her?

       She could end up married to his father!

      No, he wouldn’t let that happen.

      He’d take her first, make her his paramour and make damn sure the world knew it. That was the only way that his father would see her for what she truly was.

      His father was old school. He saw no harm in engaging in an affair, but he’d never tolerate his wife or lover doing the same.

      The private dining room held just the right ambiance of subdued light and serenate violino drifting in from the main room. It was an area perfectly suited for a lover’s tryst.

      Or the cutting business he intended to finalize tonight.

      He smiled and seated Gemma to his right, confident he was in control of the woman and the situation drawing near.

      The waiter bustled in, the lines of his broad face carved in a deep smile. “Buonasera, signor and signora. Che cosa volete da bere?”

      “Barolo, ten or twelve years old,” Stefano said.

      “Excellent choice, signor.” The waiter smiled at Gemma. “Signora?”

      “A crodino, please,” Gemma said.

      She ordered a bevande analcoliche at this time of night? “Is there another wine or apertif you would prefer?” Stefano asked. “Perhaps a bellini?”

      She shook her head. “I rarely drink alcohol.”

      But there were occasions, he was sure. So why not share a celebratory drink with him now?

      Perhaps there was another reason why she hesitated to imbibe. Perhaps vino loosened her inhibitions. Perhaps she feared she’d lose the tenuous control she’d managed to maintain since they’d left Canto Di Mare.

      Perhaps she was remembering the passion that had flared between them when they’d kissed. When his hands had glided over her body. When he’d pulled her close and let her feel the hard evidence of his desire.

      Stefano felt the first stirrings of desire in his groin. He usually had far more self-control than that around women, yet with Gemma it seemed nonexistent. Had she had that same effect on his papa?

      Likely so. While the old man grew indulgent from his vino, she’d kept her wits by drinking an orange fizz. She’d remained in control while his papa slowly lost his!

      Just remembering her role in his father’s life gouged his anger up another notch. But his anger was equally aimed at himself this time.

      If only his mamma had told Stefano of her suspicions months ago