But it was gone and her only source of income now was her salary. Without Cesare running his business, how much longer could they go on?
Just last week Cesare had confessed that he’d had to sell a good deal of his shares to Canto Di Mare in order to make payroll. He barely held controlling interest in his own company. No wonder his health had broke!
Without another word or glance Stefano’s way, she settled into the chair before Cesare’s desk, ready to take dictation from her temporary boss. She would surely count the days until Cesare’s return.
“I will be dividing my time between Marinetti and my own company,” he began, rocking back in the chair with lazy insouciance and surprising her with that announcement. “After my father’s surgery, of course.”
“Of course.”
Good! Stefano would only be here part-time. He was likely bored already with his papa’s business.
Cesare Marinetti was old school and his schedule at Marinetti Shipyard was relaxed. Everything here was done in slow precision as it had been done for generations.
Even a good many of the employees were extended family with sons following in their fathers’ footsteps. But what would Stefano know of that?
He’d walked away from his family. He’d found fault with the way this shipyard was run years ago. He’d shunned tradition.
“As my own secretary is on holiday,” Stefano said, snaring her attention. “You will accompany me as I commute between both locations.”
Was he joking? She had no intentions of being at his beck and call, especially since she had so much to do for Cesare in Milan. That took precedence over bowing to Stefano’s whims.
“That is impossible. My work is here,” she said.
THE mouth she’d earlier admired curved into a devilish smile that sent her stomach cartwheeling. She knew before he said a word that she’d just baited the lion. And lost.
“Your work is wherever and whatever I deem it to be for the foreseeable future. And,” he said, raising one finger when she opened her mouth to voice a weak objection, “to make myself clear, my father is on strict bed rest before his surgery and throughout his recuperation. That includes personal business.”
Those last four words shot ice down her spine. He was ordering her to keep away from Cesare. The wall had been thrown up. It was a small wonder Cesare was able to contact her when he had. Which was likely what his son had anticipated when he took over.
At least she’d gotten the files out in time. She’d simply have to keep them hidden until Cesare returned. And she would guard them with her life.
“Am I forbidden to visit him, as well?” she asked, worry seeping into her bones when she thought of the little girl waiting for Cesare in Milan.
They couldn’t just abandon her now. If Cesare was unable to see to her care, then Gemma would have to do so for him. But first she’d have to get away from Stefano.
That could prove difficult, considering he planned to take her away from here in the capacity of his personal assistant.
“You may visit my father.” He stroked the chiseled line of his classically strong jaw with a thumb as if carefully considering her question. “After his surgery.”
If she thought he was genuinely concerned about the older man’s health prior to the heart bypass, she’d not take this personally. But the hard glint in his eyes mirrored the undertone in his warning—one meant just for her. Could he know of her deep relationship with Cesare? Had he somehow discovered his papa’s secret?
No, that was impossible. She and Cesare had been discreet to a fault. Cesare had doled out a fortune to ensure privacy at the hospital.
Stefano was just throwing his weight around in hopes she would make a mistake. Well, it was time she reminded him that she worked for his papa first and him second.
She got to her feet, still clutching her notepad like a shield. “Cesare wanted me to prepare a detailed list of the ships we are contracted to build during the next year. If you are through, I’d like to get started on it.”
“This is to be included in the prospectus for the new stockholder?”
“Yes,” she said, unsettled by the mesmerizing intensity of his eyes that seemed to look right through her.
He lifted one broad shoulder in a careless shrug. “It can wait.”
“No, it can’t,” she shot back. “Cesare made it clear that the paperwork must be completed today.”
“I am telling you it can wait.”
She threw a hand in the air, disgusted that Stefano wasn’t taking his papa’s wishes seriously. “You may not care if your father’s business flourishes or fails but I do. Until I hear otherwise, he is my boss, not you.”
Gemma could have crawled under the table, for she’d never, never, let her emotions get the better of her until now. But Stefano Marinetti seemed to know what buttons to jab to push her over the edge. And wouldn’t that be a crime!
If she walked out, Cesare would have nobody in his corner. He’d have to reveal his secret and face the consequences. And a little girl would be exposed and branded a bastard.
Her shoulders slumped, for that realization was all it took for her to pull in her claws. She’d been the object of scorn before. She certainly wouldn’t wish it on another innocent. Besides, she’d given Cesare her word that she’d carry on with her role here.
“Forgive my lack of manners,” she said.
He toyed with a pen, and she had the distinct feeling he thoroughly enjoyed baiting his adversaries, especially her. God knew they were on opposite sides.
She was Cesare’s personal secretary and loved her job and her boss. He was estranged from his father and had made no attempt to bridge the breach. Until now, when his papa was incapacitated.
That bald fact instantly put her on the wrong side of Stefano. Was he here to help his papa, or did he have a personal agenda?
“You are a fierce champion of my father,” he said.
“I am simply doing my job.”
“You are doing far more than that.”
She didn’t delude herself into thinking he was handing out a compliment. She simply clung to the hope that he’d decide to hire a temporary secretary and release her to go about Cesare’s business uninterrupted.
“You should know that I’m aware of why you refused to work for your father.”
“And that reason would be?”
She lifted her chin, refusing to be cowed. “Your rivalry with your brother and your refusal to take orders from him.”
He stared at her for one long, uncomfortable moment. “Did my papa tell you that?”
“Most of it,” she said. “The rest I heard shortly after I came to work here.”
“Gossip. Let me tell you the truth.” He slammed across the office, fists clutched at his sides. “My brother’s wife drove me from here.”
This was getting far too personal for her liking. “Really, you don’t have to explain your differences—”
“Before she married my brother, she was my lover. I thought myself