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The Italian Marriage
Kathryn Ross
It definitely won't be a marriage in name only… But it was all finished between Gemma and Marcus Rossini, except for one bond, their son, Liam. Now Marcus is returning to Italy - and he wants Liam and Gemma with him. And he will do anything to get what he wants… even marry! Gemma would love to reject his proposal.But that's not something she's ever been able to manage with the very persuasive Italian tycoon.



“We may have to pretend for everyone else’s sake that we are madly in love, but at least we can be honest with each other.”
“I thought we were being honest.” Marcus’s voice was hard and cutting.
Gemma took a deep breath and launched in before she could change her mind. “So I really think the decent thing would be for us to sleep in separate rooms.”
There was a moment’s silence.
“You don’t mean that?”
The arrogance of that remark made her angle her head up defiantly. “Yes, I do.”
“We have an arrangement, Gemma. You are my wife and tonight we will consummate the marriage.”
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The Italian Marriage
Kathryn Ross



CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER ONE
‘DADDY is getting married.’
The words fell in the drowsy heat of the summer afternoon like an incendiary device.
‘Sorry?’ Gemma had been pouring a glass of lemonade for her son and it spilt on the picnic rug, flowing over the hem of her floral sundress. ‘What did you say, Liam?’
‘You’ve spilt lemonade,’ the four-year-old pointed out, reaching to get a chocolate bar from the picnic basket.
‘Yes, I know.’ Ordinarily, Gemma would have told her son not to eat the chocolate until he’d finished his sandwiches but her mind was in total disarray. ‘What did you say about Daddy?’ she asked again, trying hard not to sound flustered.
‘He’s going to get married.’ Liam munched on the chocolate and regarded her steadily from dark eyes that were unnervingly like his father’s. ‘Does that mean I will have two mummys like Annie does?’
‘Well…I suppose it does…’
Gemma was at a loss to know what to say. She was still reeling with shock.
It was strange how one moment the world could seem settled and then the next a gaping great hole could open up under your feet. She didn’t know why she felt so shocked…or surprised. Marcus Rossini was thirty-eight, spectacularly handsome, and wealthy. He’d had his pick of women for years. With forty looming on the horizon, maybe he thought it was finally time to put his philandering days behind him and settle down.
So who was the woman? she wondered. She’d put bets on it being his childhood sweetheart, Sophia Albani. Women had come and gone over the years but she seemed to have remained in the background—despite the miles that sometimes separated them, despite the fact that Marcus had fathered a child. Sophia had taken it all in her stride and their relationship seemed to have survived, against all odds. Maybe that was the test of true love? For some reason the pain of that thought seared straight through to Gemma’s heart.
‘Are you sure about this, Liam?’ she asked her son gently. ‘How do you know Daddy is getting married? Did he tell you himself?’
Liam shook his head and reached into the basket to get a biscuit. ‘I was supposed to be in bed but I got up because I had tummy ache and I heard him talking…’
‘Was this last night?’
Liam nodded.
Curiosity ate into Gemma. ‘Who was he talking to?’
Liam shrugged.
‘Do you think it was Sophia? Was she at Daddy’s house yesterday?’
‘He was talking on the phone.’ Liam grasped a packet of crisps and Gemma broke from the trance that had possessed her. Interrogating a four-year-old was not the done thing and Marcus’s personal life was nothing to do with her.
‘Liam, no more junk food. Eat a sandwich, please.’
Liam wrinkled his nose. ‘I don’t like them. I don’t like that green squishy stuff.’
‘It’s not squishy, it’s cucumber and you love it.’
Liam shook his head mutinously. ‘I hate it.’
‘Just have one to please me.’
‘Daddy doesn’t make me eat horrid things.’
Gemma felt a flash of irritation. It was always the same. Liam idolized his dad; she felt that she heard a sentence similar to this half a million times during the day. ‘Daddy doesn’t make me go to bed this early…Daddy lets me watch this programme on TV…Daddy reads to me when I wake up at night…’
Gemma tried to let it all go over her head without resorting to any sarcastic replies, but sometimes when she was tired or harassed it was more than flesh and blood could stand and she really wanted to say something derogatory—something that would tell Liam that his wonderful daddy wasn’t a man you could trust.
But of course she would never, never stoop that low. Because the truth of the matter was that, no matter how much Marcus Rossini had hurt her in the past, or how much she wanted to forget his very existence, he was a damned good dad to Liam and that was all that really counted in the end.
‘Please don’t argue with me, Liam. Just eat the sandwich. Otherwise I just might have to tell Daddy that you’ve been naughty when he comes to pick you up tonight.’
She watched as the child hesitated and then dutifully did as he was asked. It always worked, Gemma thought, as she dabbed at the hem of her dress with a tissue to mop up the lemonade. And the irony was that her conversations with his father were as brief as Gemma could possibly make them. She never discussed anything with him except the arrangements for picking Liam up. In fact, she hadn’t even seen Marcus for months, because as soon as his car drew up outside she sent Liam out with his bag ready packed, eliminating the need for Marcus even to walk through her front door. And, when he returned, she had her mother answer the door to them. Gemma found it easier that way. She couldn’t converse easily with Marcus—not without reopening lots of old wounds.
Thankfully, Liam was too young to realize this at the moment, but one day, she supposed, the threat of reporting him to his dad wouldn’t work quite so easily.
Was Marcus really going to get married? she wondered as she watched Liam. She felt something inside her twist painfully. Not that she cared on a personal level, she told herself firmly; she had long ago resigned herself to the fact that Marcus was not the man for her. She was only concerned about how it would affect Liam.
‘Can I go on the swings now?’ Liam asked as he finished his sandwich.
‘Yes, if you like.’
She watched as he ran the short distance towards the playground, little legs hurtling along in blue jeans like a mini tornado. Then he turned around halfway there and ran back to her, flinging his arms around her and kissing her on the cheek. ‘I love you, Mummy,’ he said.
‘I love you too,’ Gemma said, giving him a hug.
‘Will you watch how high I can go on the swings?’ His dark eyes were filled with an impish excitement.
‘I will, darling.’
She watched as he ran off into the playground again, her heart heavy with pride and with love.
Although it was a sunny Saturday afternoon there weren’t many people in the park. If it wasn’t for the distant roar of the London traffic they could have pretended they were in the midst of the countryside.
Gemma wondered what Marcus was doing today. He usually picked Liam up in the morning and spent the weekend with him, but there had been a last-minute change of plan. He’d had the boy last night instead, dropping him off early this morning, because he said he had something to do today and that he would pick him up again around four-thirty.
Maybe he was seeing Sophia…maybe he was taking her out today to buy an engagement ring?
Gemma put the box of sandwiches away into the basket and settled back on the blanket to watch her son. Marcus could set up a harem for all she cared, she told herself briskly. It was none of her business.
The drone of bees plundering the foxgloves in the flowerbed next to her filled the air. For a second the heat and the tranquillity conjured up the memory of an afternoon when she had lain entwined in Marcus’s arms by the banks of a river. His hands had been running possessively and confidently over her body, finding the buttons of her blouse and stealing beneath the material to find the heat of her naked flesh. ‘I want to make love to you, Gemma…I want you right now…’
The heat and the urgency of that memory made her go hot inside now, with a renewed surge of longing. And she hated herself for it. It was years since she had slept with Marcus and those feelings were dead, she told herself fiercely. Dead and buried, with a full grieving process very firmly behind her.
‘Hi, Gemma.’ Marcus’s voice coming so coolly and so quickly on top of the steamy memory made her sit bolt upright and turn around.
It was almost as if she had conjured him up, as if he had stepped out from her daydreams and into reality.
‘What are you doing here?’ she asked in stunned surprise.
‘I’ve come to see you.’ He sat down beside her on the rug, his manner relaxed and confident, as if they always met like this on a Saturday afternoon in the park. ‘Liam told me you were coming here today for a picnic.’
‘Did he…?’ Gemma could hardly concentrate for thinking how attractive he looked. Marcus was half Italian and he had dark Latin smouldering good looks, olive skin and jet-black hair that gleamed almost blue in the sunlight. Blue chinos and a faded blue shirt sat well on the tall broad-shouldered frame.
Every time Gemma saw him she was struck afresh by how gorgeous he was, and she could remember forcibly what it was that had drawn her so firmly under his spell in the first place. There was something very powerful about Marcus Rossini and it wasn’t just that his body was well-toned and muscular. It was everything about him; the set of his jaw, the chiselled, strong profile and the gleam of his velvet dark eyes. As those eyes held hers now, Gemma felt a shiver of apprehension.
‘You look well,’ he said politely.
‘Thanks.’
‘Seems ages since I saw you.’
She felt his eyes running in a quick assessment over her long blonde hair and slender figure; felt them as acutely as if he were touching her and it stirred up a renewed feeling of heat inside her. And suddenly she knew why she was so careful to avoid contact with this man. There was something about him that could stir her senses with just a glance.
‘So what do you want, Marcus?’ Her voice was sharper than she intended but he didn’t appear to notice.
‘There is something I need to discuss with you,’ he said calmly.
Gemma remained silent; she knew what was coming. He was going to tell her he was getting married. She was surprised he had bothered to come and tell her in person. She supposed it was decent of him…supposed it was the civilized way to proceed. After all, they had a duty to their son to handle this in an adult way. Trouble was, she suddenly wasn’t feeling at all civilized.
Gemma took a deep breath and tried to prepare herself to react appropriately. She would wish him well and sound as if she meant it.
As their eyes met she felt her heart slam against her chest. Suddenly from nowhere she was remembering the night she had told him she was pregnant, and her feelings when he had proposed. She had felt the same heavy weight of emotion pressing against her chest then. The need to cry, to wail against the unfairness of the fact that this man just didn’t love her and would never love her. She had been left with no option but to turn him down. A marriage without love was no marriage at all.
Now he was about to tell her he was marrying someone else. There was a bitter taste at the back of her throat.
She looked away from him over towards Liam. He was swinging higher and higher, a look of intense concentration on his face, and he hadn’t even noticed that his dad was here yet.
‘I’m leaving London, Gemma,’ Marcus said quietly beside her. ‘I’m going back to live in Italy and I want to take Liam with me.’
Gemma stared at him blankly, shock waves pounding through her. This wasn’t at all what she had expected.
‘I know this is a shock, but when you calm down and think about it rationally you’ll realize this is a sensible move. This is the best thing for Liam. He is part Italian, he has a heritage and a way of life to learn about. He has the security of a large family waiting for him—cousins, uncles, aunts, not to mention a grandfather who loves him deeply.’
Gemma didn’t know why she was allowing Marcus to continue with this conversation. It was quite frankly crazy, but she was so shocked she couldn’t find her voice to stop him.
‘Liam belongs back home in Italy.’
‘Liam’s home is here with me.’ When she finally managed to speak, her voice was so full of anger that it didn’t even sound like her.
‘I understand this is going to be a wrench for you Gemma.’
With a fierce stab of panic Gemma noticed that he spoke as if this was already a fait accompli.
‘And I know how much you love Liam. That’s why I think you and I should get together on this and sort out a compromise that will suit us all.’
‘It’s not going to be a wrench because it will never happen.’ She cut across his calm words with a fierce determination and started to pack away the bottle of lemonade and the cups, needing to get away from this situation as quickly as she could.
He watched her frantic, angry movements with a cool detachment.
‘Look, I suggest that we put our own feelings aside and concentrate on what’s best for Liam now.’
The sheer arrogance of those words made Gemma look sharply up at him. ‘I have always concentrated on what is best for Liam,’ she said furiously, her blue eyes blazing with emotion. ‘How dare you suggest otherwise?’
‘Gemma, all I’m saying—’
‘I hear what you’re saying and you are talking rubbish. You waltz in at weekends and high days and holidays and think you are God’s gift to fatherhood. Well, let me tell you that you’re not. You have no idea of the day-to-day reality of being a parent. This idea is just a passing fancy…like everything else in your life.’
She couldn’t resist the sarcastic dig. ‘And you wouldn’t last two minutes if you had Liam full time.’
‘Well, that’s where I think you are wrong. I would be more than capable of having Liam full time.’
She noticed that his voice had lost the cool, pragmatic tone and there was an edge of annoyance showing now. Good, she thought furiously. How dared he calmly arrive and tell her he intended to take her son away? ‘No judge in the land would take a baby away from his mother without extreme good cause,’ she added tersely. ‘So just go away, Marcus. Go back to your dream world and don’t bother me again.’
‘He’s not a baby, Gemma. He will be starting school in September.’
Gemma ignored the comment and continued to tidy away the chocolate wrappers from the rug.
As she reached to fasten the lid on the basket Marcus stretched out and caught hold of her wrist. The contact of his skin against hers sent a jolt of shock shooting through her as if an electric charge had passed through her body. ‘This is something we need to sort out together. If it goes to court you will regret it, Gemma.’
Although the words were softly spoken the meaning was clear. Nobody took on the might of the Rossini family and won. They had money and influence and they always got what they wanted. Gemma tried very hard not to let panic show in her eyes as she looked over at him. ‘You are not in Italy now, Marcus,’ she reminded him. ‘This is my home turf, and a court will never allow you to take Liam away from me.’
‘I don’t want to fight with you, Gemma,’ he said softly. ‘But if you insist on it, then I will use any means possible to make sure I win. If you play with fire then you must expect to be burnt.’
‘Daddy!’ Liam’s excited voice cut through the tense atmosphere and Marcus let go of her and turned as the little boy came running across the grass and flung himself into his arms.
Gemma watched the instinctive way Liam curled his arms around his father’s neck, cuddling in to him as close as he could get. ‘Daddy, will you push me on the swing? Will you? I can go really high, almost up to the sky and…’
‘Hey, steady on, partner.’ Marcus laughed. ‘Give me time to draw breath.’
‘Liam, we have to go now,’ Gemma cut in anxiously. She just wanted to be away from this situation. Her nerves couldn’t stand being around Marcus a moment longer.
‘Ah, Mum!’ Liam groaned. ‘Daddy’s only just come! Can’t he push me on the swings, can’t he, please?’
‘You can see him later.’ Gemma stood up and pretended to busy herself brushing down the folds of her long dress. ‘You’re spending tonight over at Daddy’s house. You can play on the swing in his garden.’
Marcus watched the way her long hair fell silkily over her shoulders, gleaming a rich honey gold in the sun; noticed the deep V of her sundress revealing a tantalizing glimpse of her curvaceous body.
‘Can I stay here with Daddy?’
The words caused a sharp rush of pain inside her.
‘No, you can’t.’ Gemma glanced over and met Marcus’s eyes. She imagined there was a gleam of triumph in them, a look that said, See, my son wants to be with me, not you. ‘Please stand up from the rug so I can fold it away,’ she asked him coldly.
Liam seemed set to argue some more. But, surprisingly, Marcus cut across him. ‘Do as Mummy says, Liam,’ he said, getting to his feet and lifting Liam with him so that Gemma could pack the rug away.
‘Thanks.’ Her voice was prickly.
‘We need to talk some more,’ Marcus said quietly as he watched her place the folded blanket over the top of the basket.
‘There is nothing to discuss. I’ve given you my answer.’
‘That’s not good enough.’
‘Why? Because it isn’t the answer you want?’ Gemma shrugged. ‘Well, tough, Marcus. I know you are used to getting your own way, but not this time.’
Anger glimmered in Marcus’s eyes. ‘We’ll see about that.’
The quiet way he said those words disturbed the cool veneer she had managed to wrap around herself. ‘The whole notion is ridiculous, Marcus, so just forget it.’
As her voice rose, Liam looked over at her. ‘Are you and Daddy arguing?’
‘No, darling, we’re just talking.’ Gemma held out her hand to him. ‘Come on, we have to get home. Uncle Richard said he might call.’
Marcus felt a flash of annoyance at that remark. ‘Uncle Richard’ was around at the house far too much recently for his liking.
‘We’ll talk again later in the week,’ Marcus said as he put Liam down.
‘I told you, there’s nothing to talk about.’
‘On the contrary, there is a lot to talk about,’ Marcus said coolly. ‘How about having dinner with me next Friday night? Will your mother babysit?’
‘Dinner?’ Gemma looked at him as if he’d gone mad. ‘No, she wouldn’t.’
‘Okay, I’ll come over to you, then.’
‘Marcus, that isn’t convenient.’
‘I’ll ring you later in the week to confirm.’ Marcus’s voice was steely.
Gemma was going to tell him flatly not to waste his time but Liam was watching and listening intently. So she just reached to take hold of the child’s hand. ‘Goodbye, Marcus,’ she said with as much cold finality in her voice as she could muster.
Marcus watched as she walked away from him across the grass, her long hair swinging glossily behind her in the softness of the breeze, her back ramrod straight.
Liam was skipping beside her and kept turning to wave at him but Gemma did not look back.
But she would do as he wanted, Marcus told himself grimly. By the time he had finished she would be begging him to compromise and he would have her exactly where he wanted her: back in his life.

CHAPTER TWO
GEMMA groaned and put the letter down on the table, pulling a hand distractedly through her long hair. ‘This is all I need!’
‘What’s the matter?’ Her mother walked into the kitchen just at that moment. ‘It’s not a letter from Marcus’s lawyer, is it? This custody battle isn’t going to court?’
‘No!’ Gemma looked over at her mother, horrified by the words. ‘There is no custody battle, Mum. Marcus is trying his luck, that’s all. He won’t dare go to court because he knows he’ll lose.’
Her mother didn’t look convinced. ‘Marcus has never struck me as a man afraid of losing,’ she said curtly.
The words were not what Gemma needed to hear. She was desperately trying to convince herself that this problem with Marcus would sort itself out, that he would change his mind before things started to get nasty.
‘What’s in the letter?’ her mother asked now.
‘It’s from the letting agency, informing me that the landlord is putting this house up for sale. They’ve invited me to make an offer, as he will give me first refusal, apparently.’
‘Would you be able to afford it?’
‘They haven’t said how much he wants for it, but I doubt it. The houses in this square are going for a fortune these days.’
‘I suppose you’ve done well getting it for such a low rent for all these years. I don’t know how you’ve managed it. Your friend Jane is paying twice as much for her small flat.’
‘Yes, I suppose it was too good to last.’ Gemma had thought her luck was really in when she had found this place. It was a large Georgian house close to her publishing job in the heart of London and within walking distance of her mother’s house. Fully furnished with the most exquisite antiques, there was even a large office where she could work. The rent had been preposterously low but apparently the landlord’s main concern was to have a good tenant who would look after the property, as it had once been his mother’s home. ‘I thought he might bump up the rent one day but somehow I didn’t expect him to sell,’ Gemma reflected sadly.
She watched as her mother lifted the letter and shook her head in dismay. ‘Maybe you could ask Marcus for some help to buy the place,’ she suggested tentatively. ‘I’m sure he would—’
‘No, Mum.’ Gemma turned and opened the kitchen door to call up the stairs to Liam. ‘Liam, your nana is here to take you to nursery.’
‘A house like this would be nothing to a man of Marcus’s wealth and he is always offering you financial assistance,’ her mother continued determinedly as if Gemma had said nothing. ‘I don’t know why you keep turning him down. You’re so damn stubborn sometimes—’
‘Mum, I am not going to ask Marcus for help.’ Gemma put on the jacket of her smart black business suit and checked her keys were in her bag. She was running late and she had a stressful day at work ahead of her: she didn’t want to think about Marcus, let alone talk about him. ‘He’s the man who wants to take Liam away from me, remember? The last thing I’ll do is go to him cap in hand.’
‘It doesn’t need to be like that. Marcus is a decent enough man, and I’m sure—’
‘You can’t be sure of anything where Marcus is concerned. And I don’t need his help. I’ll manage,’ Gemma said positively before going out into the hall to call upstairs again. ‘Liam, Mummy will be late for work.’
Joanne Hampton followed her daughter out into the hall. ‘How will you manage?’ she persisted. ‘The cost of living in London is going through the roof, Gemma. You have to be practical. It’s hard being a single parent.’
‘I’ve got a good job, Mum,’ Gemma reminded her patiently. ‘And I’m in line for promotion again. If I get this new job, who knows, maybe I will be able to put in a bid for this house.’ As she spoke she swallowed down nervous anticipation. She did have a good job and her career had been going from strength to strength over these last few years. She had worked her way through the various editorial departments of Modern Times, a glossy monthly magazine, and had been made deputy editor last year. Now she was up for consideration for editor because Susan Kershaw, the present editor, was leaving.
Everyone said she stood a very good chance of getting the top job. She was talented and she was driven. Even Gemma was quite confident that she could outperform the competition. Circulation of the magazine was up and she had more than proven herself over the last year. In fact, she had been feeling quite relaxed about the whole thing until rumours of a take-over bid for the magazine had started a few weeks ago. And suddenly her rosy picture for the future had developed a few disturbing black clouds.
No one was certain who had made the take-over bid, but if it was successful there might be redundancies. The first to go would be the top jobs, as the new company were likely to want to put their own key people in.
But even if she lost her job she would walk into another one, she told herself confidently. She had a great CV.
All right, maybe she wouldn’t earn enough to buy a house as beautiful and in such a good area as this, but she could afford to rent something decent around here. And as long as she maintained her independence and a nice way of life for Liam, that was all that mattered.
Gemma glanced towards the stairs again. ‘Liam, I’m going to come up in a minute,’ she warned.
‘What’s he doing up there?’ her mother asked.
‘Playing with a train set Marcus bought for him last week. The tracks are all the way around his bed.’
Joanne smiled. ‘He’s a good man. Gemma, why don’t you go out for dinner with him tomorrow night. I’ve been thinking about it and the pair of you should sit down and talk about Liam’s future, work this custody matter out. I’ll babysit for you.’
‘There’s nothing to work out,’ Gemma insisted. Marcus had rung several times that week and had left messages on her machine, but she hadn’t called him back and she wasn’t going to. ‘Marcus has my answer and that’s the end of it.’
‘Nevertheless, you need to talk to him about it, soften your attitude.’
‘Soften my attitude!’ Gemma looked at her mother in consternation. ‘If I do that he’ll walk away with my son, and that will be that.’
‘Marcus is a reasonable man. I’m sure you can come to some compromise.’
‘Not over this.’ Gemma shook her head firmly. She wished her mother wouldn’t always talk so positively about Marcus. She never tried to hide the fact that she thought he was wonderful and at every opportunity she thrust the fact at Gemma. Over the years Gemma had got used to it and accepted it. But given the circumstances, the fact that Marcus wanted to take Liam away, she would have thought her mother might be seeing things a little more from her side at the moment. It was disturbing that she wasn’t—hurtful, even.
‘Do you think Liam is right and Marcus is getting married?’ her mother asked suddenly. ‘Maybe he’s settling down with that Italian girl. What’s she called? Sophia? Maybe that’s why he’s moving back there.’
‘Maybe.’ That thought had already tormented Gemma through several long sleepless nights. ‘But, whatever the reason, he is not having Liam.’
Gemma was relieved when Liam appeared at the top of the stairs, bringing the conversation to a close.
As he hurried down to stand beside them, Gemma noticed he looked a little flushed. ‘Are you okay, darling?’ she asked, bending to put one hand on his forehead.
His skin felt clammy under the coolness of her hand. ‘Are you feeling ill?’
‘I’m okay.’ Liam shrugged.
‘He’s probably been racing around after that train,’ his grandmother said with a laugh.
‘I’ve built tunnels under the bed and a big loop by the bathroom door,’ Liam said with a grin. ‘Come and look, Nana.’
‘Maybe later.’ Joanne smiled. ‘We have to go now. Otherwise, Mummy will be late for work and I’ll be late for my bridge club.’

Thank heavens Liam hadn’t been ill this morning, Gemma thought, as she sat at her desk half an hour later and dealt with a mountain of paperwork. If she’d had to have today off it could have been disastrous. The office was chaotic and a lot of the top executives were huddled together in the boardroom, giving a sense of urgency to everything.
‘They’re calling a meeting later.’ Richard Barry, the new features editor of the magazine, paused by her desk on the way to get himself a coffee. ‘Looks like the take-over is going through after all.’
Gemma felt slightly ill at those words. If that was the case, it was likely that all her hard work for the job of editor wouldn’t pay off.
‘Hey, don’t look so worried.’ Richard perched on the edge of her desk for a moment. ‘You are one of the most talented editors I’ve ever worked with, you’ll get your job.’
‘Thanks for the vote of confidence, Richard, but I doubt it.’ She smiled up at him. Richard was an attractive man and he had become a close personal friend over the last couple of months. She really liked him. Liked him more, perhaps, than any other man she had met in the last few years.
‘Shall I get you a coffee from the machine to cheer you up?’ he asked now.
Gemma laughed at that. The coffee from the machine was so bad that it had become a standing office joke. It was said that anyone who wanted to end it all only had to overindulge by a few cups to achieve their aim. ‘Go on, then. I’ll live dangerously, thanks.’
As Richard left her office she watched him through the glass walls of her office. She had one of the few private offices on the floor but her door was always open and the glass walls made her feel part of what was going on out in the main body. Now she noticed there was a stir up by the reception area, and as she glanced over she saw with a shock that Marcus Rossini had just stepped out of the lift.
The nerve of the man, she thought furiously. How dared he come to confront her at work? She watched with a small gleam of satisfaction, knowing that if he didn’t have an appointment, Clare, the receptionist, would not let him in without gaining clearance from her first…clearance she had no intention of giving. Marcus could get lost.
She waited for the phone on her desk to ring, but instead, a few minutes later, Gemma watched incredulously as Marcus strode on in through the office in the direction of her desk. What the hell had he said to Clare? she wondered. Probably turned on that fabulous Italian charm of his, or maybe he had merely smiled. She noticed the effect he was having on the other women out in the office as he walked past them: they were all looking at him with ill-disguised appreciation. It was always the same, Gemma thought with annoyance, women just fell at Marcus’s feet. But not her, she thought grimly. She was older and wiser now and knew the dangers of that particular pitfall.
She had to admit, though, he did look good. The dark business suit did incredible things for an already very desirable physique. Annoyed with herself for allowing that thought to cross her mind, she glared at him as he strolled nonchalantly into her office.
‘What on earth do you want?’ she asked sharply. ‘Because I’m telling you now, Marcus, I haven’t got time for whatever it is.’
‘That’s hardly a congenial welcome, Gemma,’ he chastised softly.
‘That’s because I’m not feeling particularly congenial where you are concerned.’ She felt a tremor of apprehension as he shut the door behind him, closing her into the confined space with him. ‘That door always remains open,’ she told him, but he ignored her completely and left it closed, taking a seat in the chair at the other side of her desk.
He looked extremely relaxed and yet more formidable than ever, his expression as businesslike and serious as his clothing.
‘Clare shouldn’t have allowed you in here,’ Gemma said heatedly. ‘In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m trying to work and this isn’t a convenient time.’
‘Unfortunately, there never seems to be a convenient time, does there, Gemma? As you have not returned any of my calls, you’ve left me no option but to come in here to sort things out in person.’
She didn’t like the sound of that at all. It made a nervous flutter start in the base of her stomach. ‘Marcus, I have nothing to say to you, and I want you to leave now.’
As he made no effort to move she continued in a more heated tone. ‘Look, I’ve asked you nicely, but if you continue to refuse you’ll leave me no option but to ring through for Security to remove you.’
Far from seeming worried by that, he looked slightly amused. ‘I never realized before what a fighter you are, Gemma,’ he murmured. ‘But I have to warn you that if you take such an action, you might get more than you bargained for. You might find that you are the one who is removed from the office.’
Gemma shook her head contemptuously. ‘Your arrogance never ceases to amaze me, Marcus. You may have been able to charm your way around the receptionist, but two burly security guards will be a different matter.’
‘Why haven’t you returned my phone calls?’ he asked, totally ignoring that.
‘You know why.’
‘You’ve been working day and night for the last few days?’ he said sardonically. ‘When I dropped Liam back on Sunday your mother told me you were working. And I’ve left several messages on your answering machine now, the first on Sunday evening, the last yesterday morning.’
‘I’ve been busy.’
‘Too busy to make time to discuss our son’s future?’
The nonchalant question fired her blood. ‘There is nothing further to discuss.’
He didn’t answer that. ‘Nice office you’ve got here,’ he remarked instead. ‘And I hear you’re looking to move even higher within the company.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘You seem to forget that I’m a player in the publishing world myself. Let’s say I’ve got my ear to the ground.’
If ever there was an understatement, it was that. Marcus didn’t just ‘play’ at publishing: he ran one of the largest companies in Europe. Rossini House was massive; it owned some of the most well respected publishing firms in the business. Modern Times was very small fry compared to anything Marcus ran or was remotely interested in.
‘Well, I’m flattered that you’re taking such an interest in my career,’ she replied sardonically. ‘Obviously, you have a lot of spare time on your hands. Or is life just incredibly dull for you at the moment?’
‘Life’s pretty good, Gemma. Thank you for your concern,’ he replied smoothly, completely ignoring her sarcasm. ‘So what do you think your chances are of getting this promotion?’
‘I don’t know…I suppose I’m quietly confident.’ She frowned, wondering why he was asking her this.
‘If I remember rightly, you’re not bad at your job,’ he reflected.
‘Not bad?’ Her frown deepened. ‘Actually, I’m damn good at my job, as you well know. It’s the reason I was offered a job all those years ago at one of your companies.’
He regarded her steadily for a moment as if she were a piece of artwork he was thinking of buying. Her blonde hair was tied back in a schoolgirl ponytail, which showed the perfect proportions of her face, the high cheekbones, the soft, sensual curve of her lips, the large, vivid blue eyes. She wore light make-up but she didn’t need any; her skin was flawless and creamy.
Her body was still ripe perfection.
At twenty-nine, Gemma had hardly changed since the day she had first walked into his office five and a half years ago. ‘Your work wasn’t the only reason you were offered a job,’ he said with soft emphasis, then smiled as he saw a bright flush of colour light her skin.
‘I’m sure you haven’t come here to reminisce about old times, or ask about my work, so perhaps you had better just get to the point,’ she said, annoyed with herself for allowing that remark to unsettle her.
‘I think you know what the point is,’ he said quietly.
‘Liam is not going to live with you in Italy, so you may as well just give up on the idea and go away.’
‘Giving up isn’t an option, Gemma.’
She glanced beyond him towards the main office. People were looking over at them; curiosity was obviously rife out there. ‘You are causing a scene, Marcus, and I want you to go.’
‘Not until you’ve agreed to come out for dinner with me tomorrow.’
‘I can’t—’
‘Your mother informed me that she would gladly babysit for us, so what time shall I pick you up?’
‘Watch my lips, Marcus. I will not go out with you tomorrow. And where Liam lives is not up for discussion. He is staying with me.’
‘I’ll book a table at Bellingham’s for seven-thirty. How does that suit?’
‘You can get a table at Buckingham Palace for all I care. I still won’t be there.’
Why was he being so insistent about taking her out for dinner? she wondered furiously. Did he think that was the best place to tell her he was planning to get married? Gemma shivered at the thought…that was a bit too civilized for her taste.
She tried to return her attention to her work, to pretend he wasn’t there. And hoped he would just get the message and leave.
‘Is it always going to be like this between us?’
The softly spoken question made her look up. ‘Like what?’ she asked, puzzled.
‘Guns drawn at twenty paces.’ He gave a small smile.
‘That’s not fair, Marcus. I have always been very cooperative with you. I’ve let you see Liam whenever you want. Even at very short notice, I change my plans to fit in with your work schedule. I think I’ve been more than helpful—’
‘What about the fact that I don’t agree with the school you are sending him to in September?’ Marcus cut across her suddenly.
She frowned, the remark taking her by surprise. ‘There’s nothing wrong with that school. It’s close by—’
‘I don’t like it.’
‘What do you mean, you don’t like it? What would you know about it?’ she asked impatiently.
‘I just think we could send him somewhere better.’
‘You mean to a school with colossal fees?’ She shook her head angrily. ‘Just because a school costs a lot doesn’t—’
‘That’s not what I mean at all, Gemma.’
‘So what do you mean?’ she asked, and then promptly wished she hadn’t when she noticed the smile of satisfaction on Marcus’s face.
‘You see, we do have things to discuss.’
‘Discussing local schools is a very different proposition to discussing taking Liam out of the country completely,’ she said quickly.
‘Yes, but up to two minutes ago you didn’t even want to discuss local schools,’ Marcus pointed out coolly.
He was right; she didn’t. The simple fact was that she was scared of Marcus taking over completely. It was in the nature of the man: he was arrogant, and he was powerful. If she gave him even an inch he would take the whole nine yards. He thought he could say and have anything he wanted…and maybe he could, maybe that was really what scared her. He had always had the strangest effect on her. Just sitting this close to him across the desk made her heart rate increase, made her whole body turn to red alert. Having sensible, unemotional talks with Marcus was something she was incapable of doing.
‘I just want to be more involved in my son’s upbringing, Gemma. Is that such a bad thing?’
Gemma stared at him in exasperation. She couldn’t honestly say that it was.
‘But you don’t let me help you in any way—’
‘If you’re going to start talking about money, you can forget it, Marcus. We have been all through this subject before and I’ve told you I don’t want or need your help. I’m managing perfectly well by myself, and that’s how I like it.’
She saw his face tighten, saw the flare of annoyance in his dark eyes, but she held his gaze with determination. She was resolute on this, because she knew if she handed over the financial reins to him he would really have a hold over her.
‘And don’t worry about the school,’ she continued hurriedly. ‘It will be good for Liam. My friend’s little girl, Annie, goes there as well, so he will feel right at home,’ she continued firmly.
‘Oh, well, if Annie goes there it must be fine,’ Marcus grated sarcastically. ‘To hell with academic achievement.’
‘He’s four years of age, Marcus. He can train to be a brain surgeon a little later on,’ she retorted with equal sarcasm. ‘My main priority at the moment is that he’s happy.’
‘If that’s the case, then come out for dinner with me tomorrow night.’
‘So we can fight between courses. I don’t think so. Liam is not going to Italy, he is staying here with me, and he is going to a local school.’ She glanced beyond him towards the office again. There was a sense of unreality about being closeted in here with Marcus discussing schools of all things on a stressful Thursday with deadlines looming and chaos reigning in the boardroom. The day had started on a bad note and seemed to be going rapidly downhill. She wondered if it could get any worse.
‘You are the most stubborn woman I have ever met, do you know that?’ Marcus said quietly.
Gemma noticed Henry Perkins, the company director, coming out of the boardroom to get himself a coffee from the machine. He looked as stressed as she felt, she noted. Although he was a relatively young man at forty-five he seemed to have aged ten years in the last few weeks.
‘The fact remains that, no matter what you say to the contrary, Liam is a very happy child.’ She returned her attention to Marcus. ‘He’s well adjusted and secure, and I want to make sure things stay like that. And anyway, maybe if you cared a little more about Liam and a little less about yourself, you wouldn’t be thinking of leaving him and going to live in Italy.’
She knew she had scored a bulls-eye with that remark as she saw his face darken angrily. He wasn’t the only one who could use emotional blackmail to get what he wanted, she thought with satisfaction.
‘Things aren’t that black and white,’ he said crossly.
‘They never are.’ She hesitated before asking curiously, ‘So what’s drawing you back to Italy? Some nubile woman waiting in the wings, I take it. Or are you finally going to make an honest woman of Sophia?’
There was a moment’s silence, then Marcus grinned. ‘Hell, Gemma, you sound almost jealous.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ She wished she hadn’t asked now, wished she had contained both her curiosity and the barbed comment. ‘On the contrary, I hope you will be very happy.’
‘Thank you.’
Was that all he was going to say? Was he not going to enlighten her at all? She stared at him in frustration, wanting to ask him more but not daring to in case he thought she really was jealous…which, of course, she wasn’t, just consumed with curiosity.
‘So, while we are on this new and enlightened “be nice to each other” path, how about agreeing to have dinner with me tomorrow night?’
‘The answer is still no, Marcus. Now we’ve had our conversation, and I want you to go. I’m stressed enough at the moment without you coming in here making trouble.’
‘What are you stressed about?’ he asked calmly.
For a second she contemplated telling him about the rumoured take-over bid for the magazine, then decided the less he knew about the details of her financial life the better. ‘Let’s just say that today is not the best of days in this office, and your presence here is making matters worse.’ She glanced up, noticed Richard hovering outside the door with her coffee and waved him in, in the hope that Marcus would go once someone else was present.
As the door opened Marcus glanced coolly around. ‘Wait outside, will you?’ he said to a startled Richard, who had only taken a step inside. ‘We are having a private conversation.’
‘Oh, right you are.’ To Gemma’s annoyance, Richard immediately retreated and closed the door again.
‘How dare you talk to Richard like that?’ she flared angrily. ‘He’s the features editor, not one of your lackeys.’
‘I don’t care who he is. Richard can wait,’ Marcus ground out tersely.
She glared at him.
‘You think you can manage very well on your own, Gemma, but you are being naïve. It’s hard being a single parent—’
‘I know it’s hard. You’re preaching to the converted, Marcus. It’s you who has no idea of reality. Now, if you don’t mind, I have a living to make and a son to support.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘I know you like to think of yourself as very independent, but believe me, without my support you would find things very tough…very tough indeed.’
The quietly spoken words puzzled her. ‘I don’t need any support from you, Marcus. I never have and I never will.’
‘Really?’ Marcus rose from his chair, his manner very cool suddenly. ‘Such big words…let’s hope you’re not speaking rashly, Gemma. Because, from what I hear, your life is in a state of flux at the moment.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, for one thing, I hear that the house you are renting is up for sale,’ he said casually.
‘How do you know about that?’ She stared up at him in confusion and then the mist cleared. Obviously, her mother had contacted him this morning, had gone ahead and asked for his help. Was that why he had rushed around here now, because he thought he could use this to his advantage? Furiously she shook her head. ‘Look, Marcus, I don’t know what Mum has told you, but…’
‘Your mother hasn’t told me anything.’
‘So how do you know the house is for sale? It hasn’t even gone on the market yet.’
He leaned on the back of the chair and stared at her, a wry look on his face as he watched her perplexity. ‘Oh, come on, Gemma, you didn’t honestly think you could rent a house like that for what you’ve been paying?’
‘You mean you’ve been paying my rent?’ She struggled blindly to comprehend what was going on here.
‘I’ve waived your rent,’ he said nonchalantly. ‘The house belongs to me. You see, I know you have been determined not to accept my help in any way but I have been doubly determined that you should.’
‘Well, you had no right!’ All colour drained from her skin and she stood up to face him on legs that were decidedly shaky. ‘I told you I didn’t want you interfering in my life—’
‘I wasn’t interfering and I didn’t do it for you, I did it for my son,’ he said calmly.
‘And now, when it suits, you’re throwing us out…’ Her tone was icily cold. ‘And you wonder why I didn’t want to accept any help from you in the first place.’
‘I’m not throwing you out. You can continue to live there for as long as you like. I’m just giving you a wake-up call. I’ve tried to tell you nicely, now I’m telling you clearly. I won’t allow you to shut me out of Liam’s life for a moment longer.’
‘Well, here’s a wake-up call for you,’ Gemma retorted furiously. ‘I wouldn’t want to live in that house now if it was the last one left standing in London. Liam and I will be moving out at the end of the month.’
‘When Liam moves out of that house he will be accompanying me back to Italy,’ Marcus replied calmly.
‘Not while there is a single ounce of strength left in my body.’
Marcus walked slowly around the desk until he was standing very close to her, then reached out and touched her face. Considering the fact that they were both intensely angry it was a strangely tender caress and it made her shiver deep inside. ‘I can think of better ways for that beautiful body of yours to expend energy,’ he murmured.
Her eyes locked with his and she felt her breathing quickening, her pulses racing in disarray. She tried to tell herself to move back from him, but it was as if he held her under some kind of spell and she was unable to break free. Her body was a whisper breath from his and she felt the electric magnetism of him invade her very soul.
‘I don’t want to fight with you, Gemma. We both have Liam’s best interests at heart,’ he continued softly. ‘And I am willing to compromise.’
Somehow she managed to take a step back from him. ‘You’ll allow me to come to Italy for my holidays, you mean?’ she murmured shakily. ‘No thank you, Marcus. I’ll pass on that.’
‘And I wouldn’t blame you for passing on that. I don’t want to be a part-time parent in the holidays, myself.’
‘Then don’t leave England.’ Her voice held a husky tremor that made it sound more of a plea than an ultimatum.
‘I have to.’
‘She must be some woman if you are choosing her over your son.’
‘I’m not choosing anyone over my son,’ he said firmly. ‘I’m hoping I can have it all.’
‘Nobody can have it all, Marcus,’ she said quietly. ‘Not even you.’
‘When I’ve made up my mind to something, I usually get what I want.’
The quiet confidence of that last remark made Gemma’s heart thud heavily and unevenly in her chest.
‘Look, I haven’t got time for this,’ she murmured. She glanced beyond him towards the office and noticed that Henry Perkins was looking directly at them. ‘I can’t afford to slack today. In case it’s escaped your notice, things are pretty hectic in here. The managing director is in and there’s an important board meeting.’
‘Yes, I know.’ Marcus glanced at his watch. ‘I’m going to have to go.’
‘Well, don’t let me detain you,’ she muttered sardonically.
His dark eyes seemed to sear through her. ‘So I’ll pick you up tomorrow night, seven-thirty.’
Gemma made no reply. Arguing with Marcus was getting her nowhere. Maybe the best way to deal with this was to allow him to think he’d won and then just phone his secretary tomorrow and cancel.
‘Good.’ Marcus seemed to take her silence as acquiescence. ‘I’ll see you later.’
Gemma felt like collapsing in a heap as he turned to leave the room. She felt as wrung out as if she had just been through the spin cycle of her washing machine. But she wasn’t going to let him win, she told herself firmly. She would hold her nerve and refuse to meet him tomorrow and hopefully he would realize that if he left the country he would be leaving his son as well.
‘By the way.’ He turned suddenly and looked at her. ‘Now that I’ve taken over, you can be assured that your application for the position of editor will be treated with fairness and impartiality.’
‘Taken over?’ She repeated his words in confusion. ‘What do you mean, taken over?’
But she was alone in the room now and he had closed the door quietly and firmly behind him, leaving her with a slowly dawning sense of horror.
Marcus nearly walked straight into Richard Barry, who was still hovering outside Gemma’s office door, this time minus the coffee, Marcus noticed.
He was younger than Marcus had imagined. In fact, he looked even younger than Gemma…probably about twenty-four or twenty-five. He had an unruly shock of thick blond hair and a worried expression in his grey eyes.
So this was the man who had started trying to play dad to Liam, started to hang around Gemma. Marcus instantly disliked him. He wasn’t Gemma’s type at all…was he? Despite the dark suit he looked like he’d just escaped from some trendy boy band.
‘You’re Liam’s dad, Marcus Rossini, right?’ he said, extending his hand. ‘I’m Richard Barry—’
‘Features editor, yes. I know who you are.’ Marcus shook his hand.
‘I’ve heard about you, too,’ Richard said with a grin. ‘Liam mentions you quite a bit.’
He had a weak handshake, Marcus noted.
‘He’s a great little chap, isn’t he, I’m very fond of him,’ Richard continued brightly when Marcus made no reply.
‘Yes, he’s quite a character.’ Marcus felt like gritting his teeth. ‘You can go on into Gemma’s office now if you want. We’ve finished our discussion…for now.’
‘Thanks.’ The younger man smiled and moved away from him. ‘See you around, then.’
‘Oh, you can count on it,’ Marcus replied with soft emphasis.

CHAPTER THREE
‘WHAT on earth is going on?’ Richard murmured as he watched Marcus being greeted enthusiastically by the MD, before being steered towards the boardroom.
‘I think we have our answer as to who is behind the take-over bid,’ Gemma said in a tone that wasn’t at all steady. They were both momentarily stunned into silence as the vice president of Modern Times arrived in the office and went straight over to shake Marcus’s hand.
‘And I think we can safely assume it was a successful take-over bid as well,’ Richard said, with a low whistle of surprise.
No wonder Henry Perkins looked stressed, Gemma realized bleakly. Once Rossini House had decided to take them over they wouldn’t have stood a chance. It was like a plastic toy soldier trying to stand up to an invading army.
‘But why would Rossini want Modern Times?’ Gemma shook her head in disbelief. She could hardly take this in. ‘We’re hardly in the big league. Why would Marcus Rossini buy us out?’ Even as she asked the question she was remembering the look of determination in Marcus’s eyes as he told her he usually got what he wanted. And suddenly she had her answer. What he wanted was Liam.
He owned the house she was living in. He owned the company she worked for. It seemed Marcus was taking her over piece by piece, and his ultimate goal was to get Liam.
‘Hey, don’t look so worried. Marcus seems like a nice enough guy.’
‘Looks can be deceiving,’ Gemma murmured distractedly.
‘I’d say your promotion is in the bag,’ Richard said confidently. ‘Rossini knows you are over-qualified for the job. In fact, this could really work in your favour. He could offer you something even bigger and better with one of his other imprints. The sky could be the limit—’
‘Richard, come back in from dreamland,’ Gemma said impatiently. ‘I think it’s more likely that I can kiss my prospects here goodbye. Marcus won’t give me the promotion.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘Because I know Marcus, and I know what he really wants is Liam, and if I don’t hand him over—which I won’t—then I’ll be out of here.’
‘Come on, Gemma. I think you are over-dramatising things. He’s not a member of the Mafia, he’s a wealthy, upright businessman with a reputation to uphold. He’d hardly take over a company just to get his child. This is big business.’
‘This is chicken feed to Marcus Rossini,’ Gemma maintained firmly.
‘Well, even if you’re right and he has bought this place with ulterior motives in mind, it won’t get him anywhere. Apart from offering you incentives and pleading with you, there is nothing Marcus Rossini can do to get his son—nothing.’
‘You think not?’ Gemma looked up at him uncertainly. She really wanted to believe that.
‘Honey, he could have all the money in the world but the judges will still come down on the side of the mother. He must know that.’
Gemma started to feel calmer. ‘I suppose you’re right…I mean, it’s not as if I’m a bad mother, is it?’
Richard smiled and perched on the edge of her desk. ‘You are a wonderful mother and Liam adores you.’ He reached out and touched her face in a gentle caress. The contact was similar to the way Marcus had traced a finger down and along her skin a few moments ago, but this stirred no feeling of fire inside her, created no chaos, no wild clamour of heartbeats…nothing. Gemma wished it had, and the feeling of emptiness and panic welled up inside her all over again.
‘How about I take you out tomorrow night for dinner?’ Richard suggested lightly.
‘I’m seeing Marcus so we can discuss the future.’ She felt the words cause a tremor inside her.
‘Okay, well, Saturday night, then. We’ll have dinner and take in a movie as well. How’s that?’
‘Sounds like fun.’ Even as she accepted the date, Gemma’s thoughts were backtracking towards what she had just said. Without even realizing what she was doing, she had told Richard she was seeing Marcus tomorrow.
Was she really going to go for dinner with Marcus after all her strong and determined words to the contrary?
‘Anyway, I’d better get back to my desk, pretend to be busy whilst the new boss is in the building.’ Richard smiled.
Gemma smiled back, but she was only half listening.
‘And don’t worry, Gemma.’
Easy for him to say, Gemma thought darkly as the door closed behind him. Marcus always got what he wanted. Freddie had told her that a long time ago, only he had said it in an admiring way. Freddie had adored his big brother, had hero-worshipped him. Long before Gemma had even met Marcus, she had heard all about him from Freddie.
Even now, when she thought about Francis Rossini—Freddie, as his family and friends affectionately called him—there was still an element of pain.
They had met at Oxford University and an instant friendship had sprung up between them. It was hard not to like Freddie; he was so full of enthusiasm and fun. Wherever Freddie was, there was sure to be a crowd of people gathered around him, laughing and having a good time. He had cut a dashing figure around Oxford in his bright red sports car and women had flocked to him, adoring his dark Latin good looks.
Francis Rossini could have had any woman he wanted but he had wanted Gemma. And that was where the problem had started because, although Gemma had thought Freddie was wonderful, she hadn’t been in love with him. From the first moment he had kissed her she had known he wasn’t the man for her and she had gently tried to tell him so.
‘I love you dearly as a friend,’ she had told him firmly. ‘But the chemistry between us isn’t right.’
‘You want thunderbolts and lightning?’ Freddie had said, undeterred. ‘Then let me take you to bed and I’ll give you the best electrical storm you’ve ever known.’
‘No electrical storms, Freddie,’ she had said, trying not to smile at the melodramatic tone of his voice. ‘Just friends.’
But it had made no difference; Freddie had still pursued her with fervour. He had showered her with flowers and gifts. And in the final year at University, just before they graduated, he had proposed. Gemma had been stunned. She hadn’t thought Freddie was that serious! In fact, he had had a bit of a wild reputation where women were concerned and she had assumed that a lot of his displays of affection were just down to his Latin charm. As gently as she could, she had turned him down.
He had taken the refusal well, and they had continued to be friends, but Gemma had been careful to keep him at a distance, never to see him on his own but always to be accompanied by their circle of friends.
After graduation, Gemma had found it difficult to get the kind of job she wanted. She had gone for interview after interview and everywhere the answer had been the same; her qualifications were good but they were looking for someone with more experience.
‘How do you get experience if no one will give you a chance!’ she exclaimed in disgust on her fourteenth interview of the week. ‘I could be the best damn person in the world for this job but you’re never going to find out if you don’t employ me.’
‘We’re a national publication group, Ms Hampton,’ the editor said patiently. ‘We need someone experienced for this position. However, I do have something that might suit. There is a vacancy for a junior on features—’
‘I’ll take it,’ Gemma said instantly.
‘Well, I haven’t told you yet what it entails.’
‘It doesn’t matter. I won’t be there long, once you discover how good I am.’
The editor smiled at that. ‘I like your style, Ms Hampton. Welcome to the Morning Sentinel.’
The job was even more menial than she had expected. The pay was lousy, as were the hours, and the main job skills needed seemed to be making tea and being the chief gofer. But she hadn’t minded because at least she was in where the action was, and she was content to wait for the chance to prove herself.
That chance came sooner than she had anticipated. The paper wanted to run an article on Marcus Rossini, but the man in control of the Rossini publishing empire guarded his privacy fiercely and never gave interviews. Gemma seized her opportunity and went straight to Freddie to ask for his help.
‘If I pull strings and get you an interview, what’s it worth?’ Freddie asked, a gleam of mischief in his dark eyes.
‘I’ll treat you to dinner at the Ritz.’
‘How about accompanying me to my sister’s wedding this summer? I’m short of a date.’
‘Freddie, you are never short of a date. You have any number of glamorous woman falling at your feet.’
‘But it’s not them I want.’
She looked at him in consternation, scared suddenly that he still harboured romantic feelings for her.
Immediately he held up his hands. ‘Hey, I’m not getting any ideas. I’m just asking you as a friend. My father’s house has enough bedrooms to sleep an entire football team. And everyone would love to meet you. You’ll love it…and you’ll fall in love with Rome.’
‘Rome! The wedding is in Rome!’ Gemma’s eyes widened. ‘I couldn’t possibly go with you, Freddie. It’s too far away.’
Freddie laughed at that. ‘It’s a couple of hours on a plane.’
‘People will think I’m your girlfriend—’
‘Well, you are a girl and you are a friend, aren’t you? Anyway, do you want this interview with my big brother or not?’
‘That’s blackmail, Francis Rossini,’ she admonished sternly.
‘That’s life, Gemma Hampton.’ He grinned back.
And so, against her better judgement, she agreed. She was hungry for success and she knew the interview would be a coup, launching her career forward in style. But she hadn’t been prepared for it to change her life quite so radically.
Gemma remembered everything about that first meeting with Marcus in vivid detail.
She remembered his office looked more like a penthouse suite than a place of work. Huge chesterfield settees graced one end and picture windows commanded fabulous views out over Green Park.
Marcus was seated behind his desk but he rose to his feet as she walked in. As their eyes met she felt the impact of that glance almost as if he had touched her.
‘Good afternoon, Mr Rossini,’ she said politely, hoping that she didn’t sound as nervous as she felt. There was something awesome about Marcus, something that made her feel suddenly shy and awkward. ‘Thank you for agreeing to see me.’
As Gemma’s hand was grasped in the firmness of his handshake she felt a jolt of electricity flow through her.
Had her hand lingered too long in his?
Afterwards she wondered a lot about that. The moment had a misty blur of unreality; the only thing she knew was that she was totally captivated. It was as if those thunderbolts that she had joked about had suddenly crashed around her, an electric storm of unimaginable proportions whipping up inside her.
‘Pleased to meet you, Ms Hampton,’ he said formally.
Gemma noticed that, like his brother, his English was perfect, with hardly a hint of an accent. ‘Please call me Gemma,’ she said huskily. And he smiled—a smile that did unimaginable things to her insides.
‘Then you must call me Marcus.’ He waved her towards the chair opposite his and then sat back down behind the desk again.
‘You seem to have made a big impression on my younger brother,’ he said easily.
‘I wouldn’t go that far,’ Gemma said with a smile. ‘But we are good friends.’
‘Just good friends?’
The coolly asked question threw her senses into disarray.
‘Yes…just good friends.’ She tried to keep her voice light, unsure if he was just making polite conversation or if he was taking a more personal interest. As she looked up into his eyes she found herself hoping sincerely it was the latter.
‘Would you mind if I record our interview? It’s just so I can check back and make sure I have my facts right.’
‘By all means.’
As she took her recorder from her bag Marcus left the office momentarily to say something to his secretary.
‘Sorry about that,’ he said with a grin as he returned and sat down again. ‘Now, fire away with your questions.’
He seemed to be studying her intently and she wished that she had worn something more exciting than her blue suit and that she had put her hair up instead of allowing it to fall freely around her shoulders. She wanted to look as stylish and as beautiful as she was sure the women he dated would look.
She cleared her throat nervously. ‘So, Marcus, would you mind if I asked you about the background of the Rossini publishing house first?’
‘By all means.’ He settled more comfortably in his chair, almost as if he were about to watch an entertaining film. He seemed very at ease, extremely relaxed, and there was a gleam of amusement in his eyes as if he knew she was nervous.
Honestly, life could be very unfair sometimes, Gemma thought wryly. She had been nervous about the interview to begin with because it was her first really important one. The fact that she found herself overwhelmingly attracted to the man she was interviewing wasn’t helping.
He just wasn’t at all what she had been expecting.
She had thought he was going to be an older version of Freddie. But, although Freddie was almost as tall as Marcus and their colouring was similar, jet dark hair and eyes that were almost coal black, they were worlds apart in looks. Next to Marcus, Freddie, who was her own age, suddenly seemed terribly young…somehow very immature.
At thirty-three, Marcus Rossini was spectacularly handsome and all male. There was an air of power and sophistication about him and the dark eyes that held hers were cool and serious and seemed to reach into her very soul.
‘Your father founded the Rossini publishing business, I believe?’ With difficulty she made herself concentrate.
‘That’s right. I took over the reins six years ago, after my mother died and my father lost interest in the business.’
‘Your mother was English, wasn’t she?’
‘Yes, she was from Surrey. Freddie has obviously been filling you in on the details.’
‘Well, he’s told me a few things. You were very young for such an awesome responsibility. Did you find the pressure hard at first?’ she pressed on, not wanting to be sidetracked from her line of questions.
Marcus grinned at that. ‘I thrive on pressure, and I love a challenge.’
The phone rang and he snapped it up and it was several minutes before Gemma could resume her interview.
The same thing happened just a little while later and after the third and fourth interruptions Gemma started to get irritated. ‘Do you think you could get your secretary to hold your calls for a while?’
He looked unrepentant. ‘I’m sorry, Gemma, but as I explained to Freddie, I am a very busy man.’
It was then that Gemma took a calculated risk. ‘Well, maybe now isn’t a good time. Maybe we could continue our discussion in more congenial surroundings later on. How about dinner tonight?’
He fixed her with that quizzical, deep look that she was beginning to recognise. For a second Gemma thought he was going to turn her down and tell her she either put up with the interruptions or she did without the interview. ‘Okay, dinner tonight. It’s a date,’ he said casually. ‘But on one condition.’
‘Yes?’ She felt suddenly breathless.
‘You leave your recorder at home.’
‘Okay, but I must warn you my shorthand isn’t very good,’ she said with a smile.
‘Well, I promise I’ll take things nice and slow,’ he drawled lazily.
Something about the way he said that, the way he looked at her, made her senses leap.

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