Untamed Italians. Janette Kenny

would be cast out on the street. The inn that had been handed down from generation to generation would be lost.

      Cardone grasped Gemma’s upper arms and drew her close. Her startled gasp touched something inside Stefano, something that smacked of jealousy. Something that spurred him to protect her any way he could.

      He just barely stayed the urge to shove Cardone aside and take Gemma into his arms. Just barely. And that admission enraged him for he had just proven he was no better than his father around her.

      “Your home,” Cardone repeated, the biting sarcasm in his voice hushing those in the room again. “You would do anything to hold on to that crumbling pile of stones, even sell yourself to an old man.”

      “Apologize to the lady,” Stefano said, barely restraining himself from physically hauling Cardone outside and laying into him.

      Never mind he had accused Gemma of the same thing. He had not voiced such crudities in public.

      “Defending her?” Cardone asked, setting his sister aside.

      “In this attack? Sì.”

      Which made no sense because Stefano had wanted to publicly humiliate her. He’d wanted to ruin her and recover as much of his father’s property and money as he could.

      Cardone sneered at Gemma. “You go from doting on one Marinetti to the other and turn your back on your brother.”

      “You don’t want my help. You just want what money I can spare so you can toss it away on the turn of a card.”

      She turned to Stefano but didn’t look him in the eyes, seeming shamed and weary and oh so vulnerable. “Please, take me away from here. I can’t bear to watch anymore.”

      This was his chance to walk away and complete her humiliation. This was the time to put her in her place once and for all and defend his family’s honor.

      Honor.

      To an Italian, honor was everything. But the timing felt wrong. This wasn’t the place or time.

      “The title is verified,” the bank said to Cardone.

      “Take her away from here,” Cardone said, then turned to accept the casino’s offer.

      Nobody noticed Gemma’s distress and obvious depression. Nobody but Stefano.

      “I’ll give you five hundred thousand euros for the title,” Stefano said, doing this for himself for he had no desire to have a stranger as his partner.

      It had nothing to do with Gemma’s crushing defeat. Nothing to do with revenge. He did not want to feel anything for this woman but disgust. She’d all but stolen from his father, yet she portrayed the injured party so well now that he almost sympathized with her.

      Cardone smirked and snatched the title from the bank. “I accept your offer, Marinetti.”

      “Think of what this will do to Nonna,” Gemma said, her voice rough with emotion now.

      But Cardone merely shrugged. “Perhaps the new owner will allow her to stay on there, if given the proper incentives.”

      And again Stefano wanted to throttle the man for his crude innuendoes hurled at Gemma in public. It went without saying that the old woman could live out her days in her home. But he refused to comment now.

      Far too much had been said already.

      A quiet hum resumed in the room with gamblers taking their places for the next game. He caught the questioning look in his friend’s eye, but didn’t attempt to engage in conversation.

      This wasn’t the time.

      He wanted out of here before he truly did lose his temper with Cardone. Just one more insult to Gemma was all it would take, and wasn’t that a thorn for Stefano to contend with?

      The transaction went swiftly with Cardone signing his name with a flourish and Gemma standing stiff and solemn beside Stefano.

      He tucked the title in his suit pocket then pressed a hand to her back. “It is time to leave, bella.”

      She simply nodded and walked out with her head high.

      He caught himself admiring her pride in the face of such adversity.

      It was over. He owned the inn now.

      But he felt no victory. Not yet.

      He controlled what she wanted most. The inn. The question was what would she agree to do to gain back the title.

       CHAPTER SEVEN

      SHE shouldn’t have left Monte Carlo with Stefano. She should’ve taken the train back home.

      Home.

      She didn’t have a home any longer, just a flat in Viareggio. She’d let her nonna down in the worst possible way.

      What would happen next?

      Gemma had to ask Stefano about his plans for the inn. For if he intended to sell it, there was the slim chance she could still secure a loan from the bank.

      It was a slim thread to hang onto as she sat beside him in the helicopter, the lights of the casino fading as they flew out over the Ligurian Sea that lay black and fathomless at night. If only that emotionally draining scene with Emilio in the poker room would diminish as well.

      But it didn’t. It remained clear and garish.

      She’d failed to help her brother. In fact she didn’t know how to reach him anymore. She didn’t know if she had the heart to try, and that only heaped more guilt on her already tired shoulders.

      Emilio knew exactly what she’d done to get the money to refurbish the inn, yet he twisted the truth into something ugly. He insinuated that she had been Cesare’s mistress and that she was now Stefano’s lover.

      She hadn’t even had the heart to deny it for what good would it have done? Stefano hadn’t said anything in his defense, either, just stared at her with those dark, smoldering eyes like he had right before he’d kissed her.

      Mio Dio, even hours later she could still taste him on her tongue. Still feel the steely strength in the arms that had held her close. Still remember the evidence of his desire against her belly.

      Oh, yes, they had given the gossips plenty of fodder to feed on this night. She just hoped news of it wouldn’t reach Cesare soon.

      The day for his open-heart surgery had arrived. The last thing he needed was the stress caused by these vicious lies.

      Stress.

      Her life was a total disaster now. She’d never felt this adrift. This separated from everything she’d known and loved and trusted.

      She wanted to know what Stefano’s plans were for the inn. But even with the headphones, the roar of the blades dissuaded conversation.

      So she held her thoughts and fears to herself and settled in for the long ride back to Viareggio. That thought had barely crossed her mind when she spotted the lights of a big ship dead ahead. The helicopter circled it once and then began descending.

      Her mind ran away with dire reasons why Stefano would set down in the middle of the sea. And wasn’t this dangerous to attempt at night?

      Never mind he was landing on a small cruise ship. He was doing so nearly blind at night.

      Before she could work herself into a full-blown panic, he’d landed the helicopter. Her heart stopped its frantic pounding so she could hear him speaking to someone over his radio.

      She immediately thought of Cesare. “Is something wrong?” she asked before they both removed their headphones.

      “It is late and I didn’t wish to fly back to Viareggio tonight when my