Too Devious to Tame (The Giovanni Clan) (9 page)

"Who are
they
, Jemima?"

Giada's cool voice interrupted her silent anguish. She handed her a crisp, white handkerchief to dry her tears.

"Eastern European, that's all I can remember. Their contact was French. He was so charming to start with, interested in my art, and then when I wouldn't do what they wanted me to, well …"

Jemima's voice failed her again, remembering the fists all too well, her despair at her own stupidity and blind belief that she could outwit them all, jumping at the get out offered to her. Seduce the local vineyard owner, steal his secrets, and she would be free. Only she was never going to be free, was she? And then when  one of the Frenchman's friends had been there, at the party, and she woke up in his bed the next day… She still couldn't believe she had cheated on Giorgio like that. They'd had their first row, and she'd stormed off; but why on earth had she ended up with
him?
Yet, the pictures he'd thrown at her days later had been undeniable proof of her guilt, and another nail in the coffin of any hope of making her marriage work.

"You foolish girl."

Giada shook her head at her.

"Let me guess, Giorgio was the solution, and when you didn't deliver…"

The curse following her whispered acknowledgement put Giorgio's earlier one to shame.

"
Dio Santo,
where was your family through all this?

"I only have a sister, and she didn't know. I thought I could handle it. She bailed me out often enough."

"Does Giorgio know any of this?"

"No, and I don't want him to either. Please, you mustn't tell him. Let him think I just cheated on him. It's better that way."

Jemima grabbed both of Giada's hands in an effort to make her understand, and the older woman pulled her into an unexpected hug. "Why ever not? He has a right to know."

"No, please don't. He'd … I don't want him to think of me doing … being … he thinks so little of me as is it is." Jemima clamped her hand on her mouth in shock at what she had just admitted, dread filling her anew. "I mean, he … oh hell!"

"I see." One cool hand lifted her chin again, and Jemima held her breath, waiting for the condemnation she was sure must follow.  Giada's gaze burned through every one of her fragile defenses, until she felt utterly exposed with nowhere to go.

"You love him that much?"

Jemima must have managed to nod, because the Don's wife smiled almost to herself and murmured something in Italian.

"Well, in that case, we best get you looking the part." And she jumped up, and pulled Jemima off the bed. She gave her a gentle shove towards the en-suite bathroom. "First stop, bath, then massage, and then we will have to find you something decent to wear. You'll be scaring my granddaughter, too, at this rate, and by heavens, that girl is impressionable enough as it is. Just like her mother. I do wonder what I ever did wrong in a previous life, sometimes, to be
blessed
with such wayward daughters."

She carried on chattering away, her smile bright, and manner friendly, and Jemima felt herself relax. The luxurious bubble bath was to die for, and the massage was simply heaven. The young girl doing it was ever so careful to not aggravate her injuries. When at last, Jemima was primped and prodded to within an inch of her life, the person staring back at her from the mirror was the epitome of cool, sophisticated elegance. The light summer suit accentuated the few curves she had left. Her usually unruly hair had been tamed into a chic up-do, and the understated make-up covered the few leftover bruises. She had to admit to herself, she'd never looked better.
If Elise could see me now…

Giada smiled her approval, when she emerged out of her room.

"Now that's better. You may just convince the family that this farce of a marriage is real."

Jemima's stomach dropped to the elegant court shoes she was wearing, and startled out of her momentary peace, she sought Giada's suddenly icy gaze.

"For your sake I hope you do, and mark my words. Luigi will be the last of your worries if you hurt that boy again!"

Chapter Nine

Gah, is my heart ever going to beat normally again?

Since Giada had escorted her out into the buzzing courtyard, Jemima's breathing and heart-rate had yet to return to anything even remotely resembling a healthy tempo. She'd been ill prepared to find Giorgio surrounded by a gaggle of six year old girls, who were taking it in turns to take rides on his back. She'd dragged her heels getting closer, bur Giada's insistent hand on her back had given her little choice. By the time she'd reached the little group, she'd wanted the ground to swallow her up, as all attention focused on her. Giorgio had extricated himself gently from the little girl, looking up at her with huge brown eyes, and Jemima's heart had clenched painfully at the affectionate smile he'd bestowed on his goddaughter, before it almost jumped out of her chest when his gaze roamed over her.

He'd changed into chino cotton trousers, emphasizing his lean hips and the muscles in his thighs, as he flexed to straighten. The white cotton shirt, rolled up to the elbows, showed strong, tanned forearms, the neck unbuttoned enough for her to see tantalizing glimpses of chest hair. But it was his eyes that had been her complete undoing. There was the barely concealed surprise, followed by such heat it was a miracle she hadn't self-combusted on the spot. She'd all but melted into his arms, at his whispered, "You look stunning,
tesoro."
He'd followed the words with a lazy smile and pulled her close enough to brush a kiss over her lips.

"Who is that, Zio Giorgio?" A child's high voice had broken the moment.

His goddaughter's eyes had been drawn into a frown, hands on hips, her cupid mouth pouting, and Giorgio had laughed, letting go of Jemima.

"This is Jemima, Maria. Remember I told you."

He'd stroked Maria's hair, and taking Jemima's hand in his, had turned toward the raven-haired beauty standing behind Maria—an identical, older, smiling version of her.

"Rita, let me introduce you to my wife. Jem, this is Giada's daughter, Rita."

The pressure on her fingers had become painful, and Jemima had extended her hand, only to be pulled into a tight embrace.

"So nice to meet you. I never thought he would settle down, but I can see why he would, looking at you." And she'd proceeded to kiss her soundly on both cheeks. "Welcome to the family. I must introduce you to everyone." And before Jemima had managed to catch her breath, Rita had whisked her away.

Having been introduced to too many people to count, Jemima's cheeks were hurting from the forced smile she'd worn in an effort to play her part, ever mindful of Giada's watchful blue eyes on her. Thankfully Giorgio had been swallowed up by the ever increasing crowd of children. Jemima didn't think she could have coped with his eyes all over her, too.

The birthday party was in full swing now. Excited children ran about everywhere, the atmosphere jolly. Rita mercifully had abandoned her getting to know Jemima mission—too involved with making sure the party was running smoothly. Jemima breathed a sigh of relief. She was leaning against one of the pillars, trying to stay out of the way. All these children were making her nervous.

And that wasn't the only thing. Jemima squinted into the sun, taking in the high walls surrounding the Don's mansion. The steel of barely concealed weapons glinted in the sunlight every time the guards moved. She'd watched in complete astonishment earlier, when one of the burly men strategically placed at the entrance and exit points, had donned a bunny costume hidden behind one of the pillars and had then launched himself into the crowd. He was now performing magic tricks of all things. And if that hadn't been bizarre enough, she saw the stoic Alfonso surrounded by no less than four of his children, one hand resting protectively on the abdomen of his heavily pregnant wife, a huge grin on his face laughing at his youngest antics. Well, if she hadn't seen it with her own eyes, she would never have believed it.

Shrieks of delight coming from the bouncy castle made her look across.

"Again, again!" Giorgio and Rita's husband, Antonio, were taking it in turns throwing children into the fairy castle, and it was hard to tell who was enjoying it more, the men or the children.

Jemima forced herself to breathe normally, when Giorgio's eyes connected with hers, his laughter fading as he studied her across the distance. If she needed any more confirmation how wrong she was for him, seeing him here at this party just confirmed it all. And it wasn't just him. Everyone was so family oriented it was sickening, guns and guards in the back ground notwithstanding.

At least that's what Jemima was telling herself. The gnawing feeling churning her stomach had to be bile, not envy. Never that. Families didn't last, did they? Parents died and let you down. She was not going to expose herself to any of that ever again, let alone bring a child into it. And looking at Giorgio now it was painfully obvious that he loved children, and they adored him.

She sighed, and tore her eyes away from all that tall maleness, willing her breathing to return to normal, dimly aware of Giorgio's frown when she turned away.  The man stepping in her path had her force a smile, only for it to freeze, instant fear swamping her, at his muttered words.

"Why, hello, Gemstone, fancy meeting you here."

****

Giorgio's frown deepened, seeing Jemima's reaction to the man blocking her path. She was hugging her arms to herself, her eyes darting around nervously, as she unsuccessfully tried to step away. She looked absolutely terrified. Renzo, one of the Don's most feared henchmen, was a man to be terrified of. He was a loose cannon at the best of times, but there was no way she could know that. And he had quite the reputation as a ladies' man, so her reaction was unusual to say the least. Giorgio ground his teeth in frustration, watching Renzo crowd her back against the pillar, his leering smile out of place even for him. If that weasel dared lay a hand on her, he wouldn't be held responsible for his actions, party be damned.

"Relax." Antonio's hand on his shoulder, made him release the fists he hadn't been aware of clenching.  "You know Renzo; he will try it on with any skirt he can find. He doesn't know she's your wife."

Giorgio's barely controlled growl made Antonio step back, hands up in the air. "Remember where you are. We don't need trouble at my daughter's party. Go, sort it. I've got this covered."

"Zio
Giorgio, where are you going? Papa, he promised."

Dannazioni
, that was all he needed. Giorgio made himself smile at the little imp, who had held his heart in his hands from the minute he'd laid eyes on the tiny scrap of humanity, and tousled her hair. She shrieked in delighted outrage.

"I'll be right back, bambina; there is something I have to do."

"Noooo."

Small hands wrapped themselves round his legs, and by the time he'd managed to extricate himself and hand her to her papa, there was no sign of Jemima or Renzo.

Dio Santo
, what the fuck was going on? A signal to Alfonso brought the man to his side instantly.

"Where is Jemima?"

"Urm, she's…." The muttered curse that followed was an echo of the one bouncing around Giorgio's brain. "
Scusi
, I was—"

"Distracted, yes, I saw. Good luck with explaining that to Luigi. I want her found, five minutes ago."

Alfonso barked an order into his intercom, and Giorgio watched the well-practiced protection team spring into action with grim satisfaction. They would find her; they had to. Renzo wouldn't be that stupid, not on the Don's premises. 

But he had seen the look in the man's eye, a look he knew well. It didn't bode well for Jemima or his own life expectancy for that matter, if that bastard had dared to lay as much as a finger on what was his.

****

"Where the hell do you think you're taking me?"

Jemima pulled her shoulders back in an effort to make herself taller, and to find some courage from somewhere, now that they were out of reach of eyes and ears of the party. She hadn't wanted to make a scene. His sudden appearance and demeanor had her so stunned, she had little choice but to allow herself to be swept away, dread settling in her stomach like a lead balloon.

"Stop, this instant!"

The tall beefcake dragging her along merely smiled evilly. The hand on her upper arm increased its pressure, and Jemima bit back the wince of pain. No way was she going to let this caveman know how much he was hurting her or how her anxiety levels were rising from terrified to… Her scrambled brain couldn't even grasp a name for the gut-churning, all-consuming black cloud of fear descending upon her. He had called her
Gemstone.
No one had called her that since those dark days, when she'd been forced to—
no, don't think about this now. You will go to pieces.

Jemima tried in vain to lock her knees, putting all her weight into it, but it was useless. The ape simply dragged her along faster into parts of the mansion she had never seen before. Sweat trickled down Jemima's spine. Her breaths came in short bursts, and her lungs screamed at her to breathe normally, the blood in her ears roaring with her staccato heartbeat. Desperately she tried to hold onto the doorframe of the heavy oak door, which seemed to lead down to the basement?
No way in hell is he getting me down there!