“Marinetti,” he told the guard at the door.
The man nodded and stepped aside without a word.
Gemma hesitated, but Stefano’s hand to her back hurried her inside. A row of plush chairs cast in shadow faced the tables.
She eased onto a chair and stared at him with eyes that were too huge and too filled with an emotion he couldn’t grasp. The deep sense of hurt that dimmed her eyes charged the tension-filled air and raised the hair at his nape.
“Call,” said the Russian mogul playing against Cardone.
The last chips where thrust forward. The cards revealed. Cardone lost.
She looked at Stefano and asked in a whisper, “Is it over?”
He nodded in answer, and her narrow shoulders bowed. In fact her entire body seemed to cave in on itself.
Damn her brother for doing this to her. Then he damned himself for letting her get to him. For wanting to take her in his arms and comfort her.
“All players must purchase the required chips before the start of the next game.”
Cardone pushed from the table and stalked to the bank, a trip he’d undoubtedly made countless times. “I have title to property. Will you take that as surety for a stake in the next game?”
“Yes, if you have it with you.”
“What is he doing?” Gemma said, her tension so acute Stefano felt it abrading his nerves.
Cardone produced a document and handed it to the bank. “The inn on Manarolo is in good condition and makes a modest profit.”
The bank took the paper. “One moment to verify this, sir.”
“No! He doesn’t own the inn.” She rushed to her brother, drawing all eyes to her.
Stefano followed on her heels, wanting to believe that Gemma had lied all along about the ownership of the inn. But her reaction was too genuine to be staged.
She was shocked by her brother’s actions to the point of hysteria.
Cardone whirled on her then, eyes widening with surprise before narrowing in anger. “What are you doing here?”
“Stopping you from making a mistake,” she said. “How did you get Nonna’s shares of the inn?”
Her brother let out a smug laugh. “Nonna is already heart-broken that you lost your half of the inn to Marinetti.”
“You told her about that?” she asked, her voice dropping to a choked whisper.
“Of course. She signed over her half of the inn to me, the family who has stayed by her side this past year.”
“The family who is about to gamble away our heritage!” She clasped trembling hands over her mouth and stared at her brother as if he were a stranger. “What are you thinking? The inn is your home. It’s our family’s livelihood. You live there. Your wife works with Nonna and affords you a modest income off the guests.”
“Peasant wages,” Cardone spat. “I want more for my family and myself.” He flicked a damning glower at Stefano. “I want the kind of life your rich boss enjoys.”
“Then work for it!”
“Trust me in this, mio serella,” Cardone said to Gemma, the endearment sounding false to Stefano’s ears. “When I win this pot you’ll never have to bow and scrape for a mili-onario again,” he said, inclining his head Stefano’s way. “You would be independently wealthy.”
“You can’t risk our home,” she said, and Stefano realized the source of her fear.
He owned her shares now, and if her brother sold his, then their family 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.