The Italian Marriage

‘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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