Mistresses: Blackmailed For His Pleasure. Annie West

at Marinetti that require my attention today,” he said.

      She stared at him through narrowed eyes. “What about the secretary? Have you dismissed her yet?”

      He heaved a sigh, wishing his mamma hadn’t told her sister-in-law about Cesare’s infidelity. Wishing to hell his mamma hadn’t told him her suspicions at all.

      “No. It is more complicated than I thought.”

      The color drained from her face as she pressed a hand to her generous bosom. “Addio! Please tell me this woman is not with child.”

      “Nothing of the sort,” he said, and hoped to hell that proved true.

      Maledizione! He hadn’t used protection.

      He hadn’t thought it was necessary since she was his father’s mistress.

      Except she wasn’t. He only hoped she was on the pill or used some type of birth control. But how likely was a virgin to do that?

      Stefano drove his fingers through his hair and called himself ten kinds of an ass. Taking Gemma’s virginity had robbed him of the vengeance he’d sought. It changed everything that he’d planned to do with her.

      It forced him to reassess her role in his life and his future. He wanted to blame her for lying to him, except in this she’d told the truth. She wasn’t his father’s mistress—she was his by coercion.

       Imbecile!

      He’d never bedded a virgin before. Never wanted to.

      He didn’t want to think that he could have fathered a child with Gemma. He didn’t want to think of her at all.

      But as the day wore on and his worry for his papa increased, his thoughts continued to turn to Gemma. In his bed. Loving her and knowing that he was the first man to introduce her to sex.

      Her sweet scent filled his head. He hungered for another taste of her honeyed mouth. To suckle the pert breasts until the rosy nipples budded on his tongue. To settle between her soft thighs and sup at the erotic essence of her, to drive her wild with ecstasy before covering her and making them one.

      Unbidden came an overwhelming swell of possessiveness. She was his now. His.

      Up until the time he took her virginity, he’d not been tied to her. He could have sent her on her way without repercussions.

      He should never have set out to ruin her for in doing so he’d only tangled their lives together.

      There was no going back.

      He couldn’t walk away. He wouldn’t desert her until he knew if she carried his child.

      What was done was done. If his seed grew in her, he’d accept his responsibility. He’d marry her without hesitation.

      And if there was no child?

      Stefano would honor the agreement they’d made for thirty days. Then he’d let her go.

      By then this fierce possessiveness he felt toward her would have waned. He wouldn’t be filled with rage over the thought of her moving on to a new lover. Of marrying one day. Of having children.

      “I do not like that she is still on the payroll,” his aunt said. “Your mamma’s memory deserves more respect than that.”

      He heaved a sigh, vexed that his aunt was still brooding about Gemma. He certainly couldn’t let his aunt go on believing the worst of Gemma but he did not relish telling her the truth, either.

      “Mamma was mistaken about her,” he said.

      His aunt gaped at him. “Do not tell me she has woven you around her finger as well?”

      He refused to dignify that with a denial and settled on facts instead. “Gemma Cardone wasn’t Papa’s lover.”

      “I suppose she told you that.”

      “She did and I refused to believe her.”

      “So what changed your mind?”

      He shifted uneasily and made a cutting movement with his hand. “I was her first lover.”

      An awful quiet echoed in the waiting room to set his nerves on edge. “When?”

      “This is not the time to discuss such things,” he reminded his aunt when a couple entered the room and crossed to the chairs on the other side.

      “Now is the perfect time,” she said in a voice pitched low. “Tell me how long you’ve known this woman.”

      “We spent last night on the yacht.” And in case his aunt had any doubts what he meant, he added, “In the same bed. She hadn’t known any man before me.”

      She treated him to a long, assessing look before spitting out a torrent of curses directed at the male of the species. “You are sure of this?”

      “Positive,” he said. “She is Papa’s personal secretary. That is all.”

      Yet even as he said it he knew Gemma was more to his father than that. There were the unexplained weekends spent in Milan and the small fortune that Cesare had given Gemma.

      A man didn’t hand over that kind of money to a stranger unless there was a very good reason. Gemma had never offered an explanation for her good fortune. She couldn’t even look him in the eyes when the subject was brought up.

      Stefano knew she was hiding something that involved her and his father. But what?

      He’d visited Milan shortly after his mamma had voiced her suspicions about his papa straying, but all he’d discovered was that his papa and Gemma had made weekly visits to a lavish hotel that was owned by an old friend of his papa’s. A friend who claimed to have no idea what business brought Cesare Marinetti and his young secretary to Milan so often.

      His father certainly incited loyalty in his friends and employees!

      “Cesare was supposed to be in recovery by now,” his aunt said as the dinner hour in the hospital came around and the smells of overcooked food filled the room. “Why is it taking them so long?”

      “I wish I knew.”

      Unease curdled in his gut. Something must have gone wrong. Stefano knew it couldn’t be good when the doctor strode into the waiting room an hour later, his scrubs damp with sweat, his expression a mask of concern.

      “Signor Marinetti?” he asked.

      “Here,” he said and rose. “How is my father?”

      The doctor motioned to a door. “Please. Let’s go in here where we can talk in private.”

      Stefano took his aunt’s arm and guided her into the private room. He’d faced many situations where he had to keep a cool head, but he’d never felt this nervous.

      The surgeon didn’t mince words. “The heart surgery went well. But as we were closing the graft site on his leg, your father suffered colpo apoplettico.”

      His aunt let out a keening sound that mirrored Stefano’s fear for his father’s recovery. The doctor’s grave expression told Stefano the stroke was severe.

      “How is he now?” Stefano asked.

      The doctor’s lips thinned a fraction, and Stefano guessed the man was trying to soften the blow. “Unconscious. We have stabilized him, but we have no idea of the damage done until he wakes up.”

      If he woke from the coma. The back of Stefano’s throat went dry at the thought.

      Time. His father needed time to heal before they could begin to think of any treatment.

      “When can we see him?” Stefano asked.

      “As soon as he’s stable and moved into intensive care. Get some rest.” The doctor left without another word, closing the door behind him to afford them continued privacy.