Kathryn Ross

The Italian Marriage


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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