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Married to a hot-blooded man…

Passionate emotions, unlimited wealth, secrets-where will it all lead?

Sweet

Revenge

Three great stories from three amazing writers!

Helen Bianchin, Jacqueline Baird & Abby Green are reader favourites; they always satisfy.

Sweet Revenge

The Martinez Marriage Revenge

Helen Bianchin

The Italian Billionaire’s Ruthless Revenge

Jacqueline Baird

The Kouros Marriage Revenge

Abby Green

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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The Martinez Marriage Revenge

Helen Bianchin

About the Author

HELEN BIANCHIN was born in New Zealand and travelled to Australia before marrying her Italianborn husband. After three years they moved, returned to New Zealand with their daughter, had two sons, then resettled in Australia. Encouraged by friends to recount anecdotes of her years as a tobacco sharefarmer’s wife living in an Italian community, Helen began setting words on paper, and her first novel was published in 1975. An animal lover, she says her terrier and Persian cat regard her study as as much theirs as hers.

CHAPTER ONE

‘CAN WE HAVE another turn? Please.’

The noise and colour of the carnival was all around them. Loud music, laughter, childish shrieks in wonderment of the merry-go-round, the Ferris wheel … so many sideshows to capture the attention of a young child.

There were striped tents providing exciting adventure for children, booths selling candyfloss, hot dogs, and stands offering a variety of stuffed toys as prizes for knock-em-down revolving ducks.

Beauty in miniature, Nicki’s smile was to die for, her sunny nature a blessing, and Shannay caught her young daughter close in a loving, laughing hug.

Small arms wound round her neck. ‘We’re having fun, aren’t we?’

Shannay felt the familiar pull on her heartstrings for the gift of an unconditional trusting love of a child, in all its innocence.

‘One more time,’ she agreed, and paid for another ride. ‘Then we really need to leave.’

‘I know,’ Nicki capitulated sunnily. ‘You have to go to work.’

‘And you need a good night’s sleep so you can be bright-eyed at kindergarten tomorrow.’

‘So I can grow up and be clever like you.’

The music grew loud, the merry-go-round began to move, and Nicki clutched the reins attached to the brightly painted horse.

OK, so she’d graduated from university with a degree. But not so clever, Shannay mused reflectively, when it came to her personal life.

A broken marriage less than two years after vowing to love and cherish for a lifetime couldn’t exactly be viewed as a plus, despite mitigating circumstances.

Water under the bridge and no regrets, she assured herself silently as the merry-go-round slowed and drew to an easy halt.

‘All done.’

Shannay stepped down and lifted her daughter from the colourful horse.

Beautiful dark eyes sparkled with delicious laughter as she giggled and planted a smacking kiss on her mother’s cheek.

Nicki’s father’s eyes, Shannay reflected, and tamped down the slight tension curling her stomach at the thought of the man she’d married in haste five years ago in another country.

Marcello Martinez, born in France to Spanish parents, raised and educated in Paris, and attended university in Madrid.

Multi-lingual, attractive, sensual, charming … he’d swept her off her feet and into a life far different from her own.

She had told herself she would adjust … and she did, successfully. Or so she’d thought. But not according to his family, who had made it plain she didn’t match their élite social status.

An added complication had been the family’s favoured choice of a suitable Martinez bride … Estella de Cordova. The stunning raven-haired, dark-eyed socialite possessed impeccable credentials, stellar lineage and obscene wealth.

Something the Martinez family and Estella never permitted Shannay to forget. Or the fact that Marcello and Estella had been lovers … a situation which continued soon after their marriage, if persistent rumour could be believed. Rumour actively fostered by some members of the Martinez family in a bid to diminish Shannay’s defences.

Seemingly irrefutable proof of Marcello’s infidelity just twenty months after their marriage was the ultimate betrayal, and following an explosive argument Shannay had moved into a hotel and taken the first available flight back to Australia.

Within a matter of weeks she’d obtained a good job in a local pharmacy in suburban Perth, leased an apartment, purchased a car … and become determinedly resolved to dispense Marcello where he belonged.

In her past.

Difficult, when his image had intruded during her daylight hours and haunted her dreams each night.

Impossible, when a persistent stomach upset had necessitated medical examination resulting in the discovery that she was several weeks pregnant.

It seemed incredibly ironic, given how desperately she’d hoped to gift Marcello a child, that confirmation of conception should occur when the marriage was already shattered, with legal dissolution a distinct probability.

The decision not to inform Marcello about his impending fatherhood continued through pregnancy, initially due to fear of a possible miscarriage, and afterwards Shannay had become so fiercely maternal, enlightening him just hadn’t been a considered option.

As a precaution, she’d covered her tracks successfully, resorting to her late mother’s maiden name and ensuring any mail directed to her arrived via a circuitous route.

Now, almost four years after fleeing Madrid, life was good.

Ordered, she elaborated mentally. She owned an apartment in a modern, upscale building in suburban Applecross, and she worked the five-to-midnight shift as a registered pharmacist not far from her home. Ideal, for it enabled her to spend the days with Nicki, and for her to also pay Anna, a kindly widow in a neighbouring apartment, to sit with Nicki each evening.

‘Can I take some candyfloss home to share with Anna?’

Nicki’s earnest expression was pleadingly angelic.

‘I promise I’ll brush my teeth afterwards.’

Shannay opened her mouth to offer the diced organic cantaloupe melon she’d stored in a small container as a snack in her backpack, only to change her mind. ‘OK.’ And refrained from adding any caution. What was a visit to a carnival without sampling candyfloss?

Nicki’s face lit up with delighted pleasure. ‘Love you, Mummy. You’re the best.’

Shannay hugged her daughter close. ‘Love you, too, imp.’ She laughed and bent low to kiss Nicki’s cheek. ‘Candyfloss it is. Then we hit the road for home.’

She lifted her head … and froze with shock as her gaze locked on two people she’d thought never to see again. Hoping no member of the Martinez family would ever cross her path.

What were the chances, when they resided on opposite sides of the world?

And why here, at a carnival camped on council park grounds in suburban Perth?

Did a heart stop beating? She was willing to swear hers did before it accelerated again into a maddened tattoo.

Recognition was clearly apparent, and with it the indisputable knowledge there could be no escape.

‘Shannay.’ There was an imperceptible pause as Sandro Martinez marshalled his expression into polite civility.

Her chin lifted as she held Marcello’s younger brother’s intently speculative gaze as it shifted to Nicki and lingered over-long, before returning to fix on her own.

‘Sandro.’ Cool, polite … she could do both. ‘Luisa,’ she acknowledged the young woman at his side.

She had to get away. Now.

‘Mummy?’

No. From the mouth of an innocent child came the one word which removed any element of doubt as to whom Nicki belonged.

Shannay saw Sandro’s mouth tighten into an uncompromising line. ‘Your daughter?’

Before she could offer a word, Nicki offered a solemnly voiced— ‘My name is Nicki, and I’m three.’

Oh, sweetheart, she almost groaned aloud. Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?

The silent accusation in Sandro’s dark eyes alarmed her, and she had no doubt had she been alone he’d have delivered a blistering no-holds-barred denunciation.

The Martinez familial ties were so strong Shannay knew there wasn’t a snowflake’s chance in hell that Sandro would remain silent.

She barely resisted the urge to gather Nicki into her arms and run, test the speed limit to the place she called home … and pack. Take a flight to the east coast and lose herself in another city.

‘If you’ll excuse me?’ she managed coolly. ‘We’re already late.’

Shannay tightened her hold on Nicki’s hand, then she turned away and forced herself to walk with controlled ease toward the exit, her back straight and her head held high.

Pride. She had it in spades. And she refused to take a backward glance as they were swallowed up by the crowd.

Could a stomach twist into a painful ball? It felt as if hers did, and the blood in her veins turned to ice as she clipped Nicki into her booster seat in the rear of her compact sedan.

‘We forgot the candyfloss.’

Oh, hell. ‘We’ll get some on the way home.’ The supermarket sold it in packets. She fired the engine and put the car in drive.

‘It won’t be the same,’ Nicki offered without rancour.

No, it wouldn’t. Oh, damn. Dammit, she cursed beneath her breath. If they hadn’t taken another turn on the merry-go-round …

But they had done. And it was too late for recriminations now.

Shannay headed towards her suburban apartment and went into automatic pilot as she bathed and changed Nicki, readied herself for work, then she handed her daughter into Anna’s care and drove to the pharmacy.

Somehow she managed to get through the evening, dispensing medications and offering advice to customers who sought it.

Concern, fear, dread … the palpable mix heightened her tension to almost breaking point, and by closing time she’d developed a doozy of a headache.

It was a relief to reach the sanctuary of her apartment, thank Anna, check on Nicki, then undress and slip into bed.

But not to sleep.

Estimating her estranged husband’s reaction on discovering she had a child … his child, didn’t bear thinking about.

Could she insist he wasn’t Nicki’s father?

A hollow laugh rose and died in her throat.

All Marcello had to do was insist on a DNA paternity test to shoot that one out of the water.

And afterwards?

A slight shiver shook her slender form.

Marcello was a ruthless strategist, possessed of sufficient power and wealth to dispense with anyone or anything that might stand in his path.

Shannay was the exception.

She’d make sure of it.

No one would be permitted to come between her and Nicki.

No one.

A resolve which remained uppermost when she woke next morning, and strengthened with each passing hour. Together with an increasing degree of nervous tension.

It wasn’t a matter of if, but when Marcello would make contact. Either in person, or via legal representation.

Marcello Martinez might not care about her. But a child, indisputably his child, would be another matter entirely.

Given Sandro could pinpoint her location, just how difficult would it be for someone of Marcello’s calibre to discover where she lived and worked?

A piece of cake, a silent voice assured in taunting response.

Knowledge which didn’t sit well. She barely ate and every waking hour was spent attempting to predict any possible scenario Marcello might choose to present.

The necessity to ensure Anna take every precaution while Nicki was in her care resulted in only one query.

‘Are you in trouble with the law?’

Oh, dear God. ‘No … no, of course not,’ Shannay reiterated.

‘That’s all I need to know.’

An apparently single mother and child … How difficult was it to do the maths and reach the conclusion of a looming custody battle?

‘Thanks,’ she expressed with genuine gratitude.

How long would it take Marcello to plan his strategy and put it into action?

A few days? A week?

Meantime, she needed to consult a lawyer to spell out her legal rights in fine detail. She was aware of the basics, and sufficiently astute to realise what appeared logical and rational didn’t always hold true.

She also intended to file for divorce.

Given she could prove a separation of more than the legal requirement, it should only be a matter of time before she gained a dissolution of the marriage.

Whereupon the only issue that could arise would be custody.

An icy chill invaded her body and settled in her bones.

Marcello couldn’t enforce custody of Nicki … surely?

What rights would he possibly have?

Shannay wrapped her arms tightly over her midriff, and barely prevented her body from shaking with very real fear.

Her soon-to-be ex-husband possessed the wealth and the power to surmount any objective he set out to achieve.

A silent scream echoed inside her brain.

If he decided he wanted Nicki, then he’d move heaven and earth to get her.

Over my dead body, Shannay resolved.

CHAPTER TWO

MARCELLO MARTINEZ moved through the international-terminal lounge with Carlo, his personal assistant and trusted bodyguard, at his side, seemingly unaware of the speculative interest in his tall, broad frame.

The Martinez legacy had gifted him the compelling well-defined features of his forefathers, arresting, wide-set dark, almost black eyes which projected the hardness of a man well-versed in the frailty of human nature.

There was an aura of power and intense masculinity apparent, together with a dangerous ruthlessness that boded ill for any adversary.

He was linked to Spanish nobility, with a personal wealth that placed him high on a list of the European rich.

And it showed … as he meant it to do, from the Armani tailoring, hand-stitched Italian shoes, to the fine Rolex at his wrist.

The long flight had done little to ease the anger simmering beneath his control. The luxuriously fitted Gulf Stream privately owned jet offered every comfort, geared with the latest technology enabling him to have an essential office in the sky.

Although he’d worked, studying print-outs, graphs and data, checked his BlackBerry and kept in touch with Sandro … he hadn’t been able to switch off and sleep.

Something he usually achieved at will, given the comfortable bed situated with its own en suite at the rear of the jet.

Instead he was plagued by a young woman’s image, startlingly vivid and recently taken via camera phone.

Shannay Martinez … née Robbins.

And his daughter.

The before and after shots.

The first serene, happy and loving. Mother and child, laughing.

In the second image, the child’s expression remained the same. His estranged wife’s features, however, mirrored shock and something else …

The innate knowledge life as she’d known it since leaving Spain was about to change?

Without doubt.

A muscle bunched at the edge of his jaw as he exited the terminal’s automatic glass doors and stepped into a limousine waiting at the kerb.

The chauffeur stowed his bags in the boot and moved up front to slide in behind the wheel.

Marcello barely noticed the passing scene beyond the tinted windows as the limousine left the airport and began picking up speed en route to the city.

A child.

Anger, barely held in control since Sandro’s enlightening phone call, rose to the surface.

How dared Shannay keep him in ignorance of the child’s existence? His initial reaction had been to instruct his pilot to ready the Gulf Stream jet for an immediate flight to Australia.

Instead, he’d delegated with icy calm, consulted his legal team and planned his strategy.

Tomorrow he intended to bring it into play.

Marcello’s suite in the inner-city hotel offered first-class luxury, and with practised ease he shrugged off his jacket, discarded his tie, organised his unpacking and settled down to peruse the report handed to him on check-in.

The private-investigation resource he’d utilised had done a good job. The document revealed a detailed listing of Shannay’s movements over the past few days, her address, unlisted telephone number, the make, model and registration of her car, place of work, Nicki’s kindergarten facility.

Details which filled in some of the blanks, and revealed she hadn’t touched so much as a cent of the money he’d initially deposited into a bank account bearing her name. Or the amount he’d contributed each month since.

He wanted to shake her, and would have if she’d been within reach.

What was she trying to prove?

Something he already knew.

His family connections, his wealth and social status had never impressed her.

She’d fallen into his life, literally, he mused, recalling the moment the fine heel of one of her stilettos had become caught in a metal grating and had pitched her against him on a busy city street in the heart of Madrid.

He’d been unprepared for the instantaneous physical chemistry … and an instinctive need to lengthen contact with her.

They’d shared coffee in a nearby upmarket café, exchanged cellphone numbers … and the rest was history. Marcello closed the report and crossed to the wide expanse of double-glazed glass offering a brilliant view of the Swan river.

The sky provided an azure backdrop to tall city buildings, selected greenery … a colourful panoramic pictorial, he noted absently, reminding him of a similar visit a few brief years ago when his ring on Shannay’s finger had claimed her as his wife.

A time when they couldn’t get enough of each other, and had rarely spent a moment apart.

Marcello felt his body tighten at the memory of all that they’d shared. Her uninhibited enthusiasm, her laughter, her passion.

His own libidinous response and loss of control.

Something he’d never experienced with another woman to the same degree.

Or in any other area of his life.

He held a reputation in the business arena for icy calm in any volatile situation. A trait which earned him the respect of his contemporaries.

With a slow roll of his shoulders he turned away from the plate-glass window and checked his watch.

It had been a long flight, crossing countries, entering another time zone and the need to adjust to it.

Stroking several punishing laps in the hotel pool, followed by a session in the gym, would help iron out any kinks and ease the tension.

With that in mind he keyed a text message to Carlo, then he shed his clothes, donned swimming trunks, shrugged on a complimentary robe, caught up a towel, essentials, and took the lift to the appropriate floor.

An hour and a half later, showered and dressed in a formal business suit, he walked out into the late-afternoon sunshine, stepped into his chauffeured limousine and instructed the driver to deliver him to a mid-town address.

The highly qualified Perth-based lawyer engaged by Marcello’s legal team to represent his Australian interests confirmed certain legalities, offered assurances and advice on procedure, and the consultation concluded at the close of the business day.

On his return to the hotel he shed his jacket and tie, ordered a meal from Room Service, connected his laptop to the internet and engaged a link to his Madrid office.

Shannay crouched down to Nicki’s eye level and caught her close, whispered “Love you”, and heard her daughter’s “Love you back”, then she rose fluidly to her full height and smoothed a gentle hand over Nicki’s head.

‘Have a fun day.’

Kindergarten was carefully structured, mostly fun and, importantly, Nicki loved spending time with the other children as they moved from play-dough to finger-painting, played games and listened to stories read by one of the carers.

‘You, too.’

Nicki happily moved to her place on the mat and Shannay hid a soft smile as Nicki engaged in animated chatter with one of her friends.

Time to leave, get into her car and head home. There were phone calls and household chores to complete before returning to collect her daughter.

A short while later she exchanged fitted jeans and tailored shirt for shorts and a cropped top, then she set to work.

Dusting, mopping and polishing helped Shannay expend some nervous energy, and she wielded the vacuum cleaner with zealous speed.

Another five minutes and she’d be done, then she’d hit the shower, dress, make the few calls and head off to Nicki’s kindergarten facility.

The ring of the in-house phone was barely audible above the sound of the vacuum cleaner, and she shut it down, then she crossed the room and tamped down a strange prickling sense of foreboding … which was crazy.

For several days she’d been on tenterhooks waiting for Marcello to make his move, agonising when it would happen and what it might entail.

Oh, for heaven’s sake, she railed in silent self-castigation. It could be anyone buzzing her apartment … so take a deep breath and go check the security-video screen.

The tight security features employed here were some of the main reasons she’d purchased the apartment.

Protection and safety were an issue in any large city, and she rested more easily knowing she’d taken every available precaution.

The insistent ring of the buzzer impelled her to cross the room … and her breath hitched painfully in her throat the moment she recognised the male figure revealed on-screen.

Marcello Martinez … in person.

His monochrome image did little to detract from his forceful features … the strong facial bone structure, piercing gaze and well-shaped mouth.

Shannay felt her stomach muscles clench in unbidden reaction, for it took only one look at him for all the memories to flood back.

The good ones where his care and passion ignited something wild deep within her soul … and the not-so good when the arguments began to escalate into varying degrees of anger.

Pick up, why don’t you?

Delaying the inevitable wouldn’t achieve a thing.

Her fingers shook a little as she caught hold of the receiver, intoned a brief acknowledgment and saw his features harden.

‘Buzz me in, Shannay. We need to talk.’

She bit back an angry retort. ‘I have nothing to say to you.’

For a moment his gaze became faintly hooded, and his voice assumed a dangerous silkiness. ‘I intend to see my daughter.’

‘You have no proof she’s yours,’ she was goaded into stating.

His dark eyes seemed to pierce her own via the video link. ‘You want to do this the hard way?’

‘We lost the art of polite dialogue a long time ago.’

Marcello’s expression hardened, and she had the uncanny sensation he could see her … which was, of course, impossible.

Yet that fact did little to aid reassurance, or prevent the shivery finger of fear feathering the length of her spine.

It was easy to close down the video screen. Not so easy to cast him out of her mind, and his forceful image refused to subside despite every effort she made to conquer it as she quickly showered, pulled on black dress jeans, added a singlet top, some faux bling, swept her hair into a casual twist and applied minimum make-up.

Then she caught up her bag, collected keys, locked the apartment and took the lift down to the basement car park. Nervous tension rose up a notch as the doors slid open, and she stepped out and began walking towards her sedan … only to falter fractionally as she caught sight of a tall male figure leaning against the passenger door.

CHAPTER THREE

MARCELLO.

With one hand resting in his trouser pocket, the casual stance portrayed studied indolence … a look she knew to be misleading, for it bore the stamp of a predator awaiting the opportunity to strike.

For a wild second she considered turning back towards the lift. Except she refused to give him the satisfaction.

Besides, it was paramount she collect Nicki from kindergarten.

He wanted a confrontation? She’d darned well give him one!

Shannay lifted her chin and fixed him with a determined look … which presumably had little or no effect, for his position remained unchanged as she drew close.

Her shoulders lifted, she straightened her back and she fearlessly met his dark, almost black eyes.

OK, so she’d start out being civil. ‘Marcello.’

‘Shannay.’

The timbre of his faintly accented voice curled round her nerve-ends and tugged … much to her dismay. She didn’t want to be affected by him, nor did she want any reminder of what they’d shared.

Which was a travesty, given the fact that they had Nicki’s existence as living proof!

‘This is a private car park.’

One eyebrow slanted in open mockery. ‘Next, you’ll ask how I accessed entry.’

‘I don’t have time for idle conversation.’ She made a point of checking her watch.

‘Then we should get straight to the point.’

His drawled response rankled, and she determinedly ignored the icy chill scudding the length of her spine.

‘Which is?’ As if she didn’t know!

Eyes as dark as sin became hard and implacable. ‘My daughter.’

His raking appraisal was unsettling, and she made a concentrated effort to strengthen her resolve.

‘The father is not listed on her birth certificate.’

A protective choice at the time, and, she had to admit, motivated by an act of defiance.

‘I’ve accessed hospital records,’ Marcello enlightened with deadly softness. ‘Nicki was born full-term. Which narrows down the time of her conception to around six weeks before you left Madrid.’

She knew what was coming, and she closed her eyes as if the action would prevent the damning words he would inevitably relay.

‘I’ve authorised a DNA paternity test through a private biolab.’ He waited a beat. ‘They have my sample, and require one from Nicki, preferably within the next twenty-four hours.’ A muscle bunched at his jaw. ‘I have the requisite paperwork for you to sign.’

She wanted to hit him … hard, preferably where it would hurt the most.

‘No.’ Her voice was terse as she battled with her anger, and his eyes hardened.

‘You refuse permission?’

‘Yes, damn you!’

‘Then I file for custody, and it gets ugly.’

The chilling finality in his voice succeeded in sending a wave of fear washing through Shannay’s body.

He could command the finest legal brains in the country to present a case in his favour.

No surprise there. It was a measure of the man to ensure every detail was in place before he struck.

‘You bastard.’

One eyebrow lifted in a gesture of deliberate cynicism. ‘No descriptive adjectives, Shannay?’

‘Too many,’ she owned grimly, hating him more than she’d hated anyone in her life.

‘Your call. You have twenty-four hours to provide me with your decision.’

Her eyes sparked dark fire. ‘Go to hell, Marcello.’

He extracted a card and held it out to her. ‘My cellphone number. Call me.’

‘Not in this millennium.’

The atmosphere between them became so highly charged it threatened to ignite.

Marcello’s eyebrow slanted in visible mockery. ‘Perhaps you should reconsider, given I’m aware of your address, Nicki’s kindergarten, the park you both frequently visit.’ His expression didn’t change. ‘Shall I go on?’

Consternation filled her at the thought he might appear unannounced at any of those places … the effect he would have without suitable introduction and explanation.

‘You’d do that?’ Shannay demanded, stricken at the mere thought. ‘Frighten, even abduct her?’

‘Mierda.’ His voice was husky with anger, his features a hard mask. ‘What kind of man do you think I am?’

She thought she knew once. Now too much was at stake for her to even hazard a guess.

‘I intend to meet her, spend some time in her company.’ Chilling bleak eyes trapped hers. ‘Accept it’s going to happen, Shannay.’ His pause was imperceptible. ‘One way or another.’

He was giving her a choice, that much was clear … The easy way, or via a legal minefield.

She momentarily closed her eyes against the sight of him, hating the position he was placing her in.

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him to go to hell, and be damned.

For herself, she didn’t care. But she was fiercely protective of her daughter, and she’d tread over hot coals before she’d willingly expose Nicki to anything that would upset or destroy her trust.

‘You’re a ruthless son-of-a-bitch.’ Her voice was filled with bitterness, and he merely inclined his head.

‘So what else is new?’

‘Nicki is mine. I chose to carry her, give birth to her.’ Her eyes blazed with pent-up emotion. ‘I was the one to nurture and love her.’

A muscle tensed close to his jaw. ‘You denied me the opportunity to be there.’

‘We were through!’

‘You opted out.’

The correction hurt. ‘Instead of staying to fight for you?’ She offered a dismissive gesture and her voice became husky.

‘Please. I hit my head against a figurative brick wall at every turn. In the end, your mistress and your family won.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘You were my wife.’

The ‘were’ did it, and her chin tilted as she flung him a look of blazing defiance. ‘Fat lot of difference that made.’

‘I gave my vow of fidelity,’ he reminded with pitiless disregard, watching the conflicting emotions chase fleetingly across her expressive features.

Shannay didn’t want to think of their wedding day, or the days and weeks that had followed when everything in their world had seemed perfect. Until reality intervened, insidiously at first, until she was forced to recognise the manipulative calculation of planned destruction.

‘Empty words, Marcello?’

‘This is old ground, is it not? Now there is a more pressing matter to be resolved.’

Nicki.

Shannay felt pain shaft through her body, and her features became strained.

‘Where would you prefer to meet?’ he pursued hardily. ‘The kindergarten or your apartment?’

Dear heaven, no. ‘Not the kindergarten.’ Her mind scrambled for a compromise.

Nor the apartment. She couldn’t bear to have him invade her sanctuary, her space, where he’d assume control and she’d have to sacrifice her own in Nicki’s presence … or risk a situation which would alarm her daughter.

Lunch. She could do lunch. Somewhere child-friendly that Nicki was familiar with, and they’d keep it short and sweet … the shorter the better.

She named a venue and stated a time. ‘Tomorrow,’ she added, and saw his mouth tighten.

‘Today.’

‘No,’ she said firmly. She needed to assume some form of control in the situation.

His gaze seemed to bore into hers. ‘Today, Shannay. Twelve-thirty.’ He paused imperceptibly, and his voice became deadly quiet. ‘Be there.’

Today. Tomorrow. What was the difference? How would twenty-four hours change anything?

Marcello was here. And now she had no recourse but to deal with the situation.

‘If—if,’ she stressed, ‘I agree, there would need to be conditions.’

‘Such as?’

A pulse beat fast at the base of her throat, a visible sign of her inner turmoil.

Marcello regarded her steadily, noting the darkness of her eyes, the faint shadows beneath, and her pale features.

It would seem she hadn’t slept any better than he, and there was a certain satisfaction to be had in that.

‘As far as Nicki is concerned, you’re just—’ she hesitated, aware friend wasn’t the word she wanted to use ‘—someone I know.’

Marcello felt like shaking her, and barely controlled the need. ‘And when the paternity test reveals otherwise?’

Shannay’s features whitened dramatically. She really didn’t want to go there … at least, not until she had to. She checked her watch, and felt her stomach curl with apprehension. ‘I have to leave now, Marcello.’ Even if the traffic lights were in her favour, she was going to be late picking Nicki up.

Marcello straightened and extracted a set of keys. ‘I’ll follow at a discreet distance.’

Her eyes flared. ‘Because you don’t trust me?’

‘It’s a more simple process than consulting a map.’

Without a further word he crossed to a sleek sedan and slid in behind the wheel.

The sound of the car’s engine igniting galvanised Shannay into action, and she quickly copied him as she sent her car onto street level.

Dammit, she silently fumed. Who did he think he was?

A man who made his own rules and expected others to abide by them, she conceded grimly.

Nicki was waiting with a carer when Shannay entered the kindergarten, and she offered an apology, gave Nicki a reassuring hug, then she elicited a brief update on the morning before catching hold of her daughter’s hand as she led the way out towards the car.

She deliberately didn’t glance towards the street to check if Marcello’s sedan was parked in the vicinity.

‘We’re going out for a while.’ She kept her voice light, bright, as she attempted to still the nervous tension spiralling through her body.

‘To the park?’ Nicki queried hopefully. ‘Can we feed the ducks?’

Shannay fervently wished such a simple pleasure as eating a packed lunch in the park formed part of the day as she lifted Nicki into her booster seat and secured the safety fastenings.

She leaned in close and dropped a light kiss on her daughter’s nose. ‘After lunch, on the way home,’ she promised, aware there was no better time than now to impart whom they were meeting and why.

‘A friend of mine is visiting from Spain, and he’s invited us to share lunch with him.’ She smoothed a hand over Nicki’s hair and summoned a smile. ‘Won’t that be fun?’

Oh, sure, and little pink pigs should sprout wings and fly!

How could she state this man is your father?

Worse, voice her deepest fear …

Traffic was light, and she fought the temptation to take the route back to her apartment. Only the knowledge Marcello would seek her out and make the situation incredibly more difficult than it already was ensured she drove to the restaurant.

Taking a circuitous route was a minor act of defiance.

Did he know? Possibly. Although he gave no indication as she effected an introduction … and watched dry-mouthed as Marcello hunkered down to Nicki’s eye level.

Shannay stood tense and incredibly protective … anxious to the point of paranoia over her daughter’s reaction to the man who posed such a potent threat to their existence.

Quite what she expected, she wasn’t sure.

She was intently aware of Marcello, but it was Nicki who held her undivided attention.

Outgoing, polite and friendly, Nicki regarded Marcello with wide-eyed unblinking solemnity. Weighing him up with the innocence of youth, reserving judgement until instinct dismissed an initial wariness and a smile curved her mouth.

‘Hello. I’m Nicki.’ Unbidden, a small hand extended in formal greeting, and with great care Marcello enfolded it within his own.

Hearts didn’t melt, stomachs didn’t really perform somersaults … but it sure felt like hers did both as conflicting emotions took hold with unsettling reality.

Father and child.

There was a part of her that wanted to encapsulate the moment for safe-keeping … for Nicki, she assured herself silently.

The venue proved eminently suitable, the food pleasantly presented and palatable. Not, Shannay mused, what her estranged husband was used to, but perfect for a young child.

It was difficult to summon light laughter and appear relaxed and at ease, when inside she’d have given anything for Marcello to be anywhere but here.

Maintaining the pretence of friendship proved to be a strain, and she battled emotional turmoil at the developing rapport between father and child.

Why shouldn’t Nicki be entranced by the man her mother had introduced as friend? The mere appellation sanctioned approval, and heaven knew Marcello possessed innate charm when he chose to employ it.

And he did, with an ease Shannay could only reluctantly admire, whilst silently hating him for capturing her daughter’s innocent heart.

‘We’re going to stop and feed the ducks on the way home,’ Nicki announced as Marcello took care of the bill.

Shannay’s offer to contribute her share merely incurred a telling glance, and she accepted his refusal with grace.

‘That sounds like fun,’ Marcello said gently, and Nicki laughed with delight.

‘You can come, too, if you like.’

Please don’t, Shannay silently begged. Lunch was enough. If she had to spend any more time in his company, it would be way too much.

He pocketed his wallet and gave Nicki his whole attention. ‘I have another appointment this afternoon. But I’d like to watch you feed the ducks another day.’

‘Tomorrow?’

Marcello spared Shannay a glance. ‘If it’s all right with your mother?’

Thanks for putting me in such an invidious position! A refusal would be petty, and disappoint her daughter. Besides, she was damned if she’d give Marcello the satisfaction.

She summoned a smiling assent. ‘Tomorrow’s fine.’ A short sojourn, then she’d plead the need to take Nicki home.

‘Perhaps we could share a picnic lunch.’

Nicki clapped her hands together in delight. ‘I love picnics.’

If looks could kill, Marcello mused, he’d be dead. Although he had to concede Shannay covered it well. As to his daughter—his, without a shred of doubt—he was hard-pressed not to scoop her into his arms.

He’d expected to feel a connection, even a degree of affection. But this deep encompassing bond surprised him completely.

Marcello copied Shannay’s actions and rose to his feet. His gaze skimmed her averted features and settled on bright, innocent brown eyes. ‘We have a date.’

‘A date,’ Nicki repeated as she reached for her mother’s hand, unaware of the tension simmering between the two adults.

OK, so you’re in the minority here, Shannay conceded silently, and wanted to cry foul. It wasn’t fair of Marcello to manipulate a child.

But then Marcello was ruthless when in pursuit of what he wanted … and he wanted Nicki.

They exited the restaurant and crossed to the adjoining car park.

‘Thank you for lunch.’ She could do polite, as an essential example in good manners. She caught the faint gleam apparent in his eyes, and determinedly ignored it.

He extracted a slim envelope from his suit-jacket pocket and handed it to her. ‘The permission form. Sign and return it to me tomorrow.’

The DNA paternity test.

She could stall him.

How long? A few days … a week?

If she refused and he was forced to travel the legal route …

‘Don’t,’ Marcello cautioned quietly.

How was it possible for one small word to hold such a wealth of meaning?

Supremely conscious of Nicki’s interested attention, she slid the envelope into her bag, proffered a superficial smile and led Nicki to the car, aware of his presence as she settled her daughter safely in the rear seat.

‘See you tomorrow,’ Nicki bade as Marcello opened the door to allow Shannay to slide in behind the wheel.

His mouth parted in a warm smile that skimmed lightly over Nicki’s trusting features and settled briefly on her own.

For a few interminable seconds she was caught in the thrall of remembered chemistry. Jolted by the sensuality that coursed through her veins, unbidden, electric … and definitely unwanted.

It had been there, simmering beneath the surface from the moment she’d heard his voice. Seeing him, sharing his company only made it worse.

For she was forced to recall memories, evocative, spellbinding in their intensity.

Even now, her body seemed to recognise his, and she attempted to control the curl of sensual emotion stirring deep within.

She didn’t want to remember the all-consuming passion, the feel of his hands, his mouth … how she’d lost herself so completely in him.

Go, a silent voice urged.

Ignite the engine and leave.

Now.

Somehow she managed to get through the remainder of the day, and she bore Nicki’s excited chatter about “Mummy’s friend” and the proposed picnic as she bathed and fed Nicki, then readied herself for work.

‘I have lots to tell Anna.’

Shannay leant down and kissed her daughter’s cheek as the doorbell rang. ‘Be good, hmm?’

‘Always,’ Nicki responded solemnly.

A light chuckle emerged from her throat. ‘Imp.’

‘A nice imp.’

Shannay gathered her in for a hug, then smoothed a hand over dark curls. ‘Extra-specially nice,’ she agreed, and crossed to let Anna into the apartment.

CHAPTER FOUR

MARCELLO’S IMAGE haunted Shannay’s subconscious and provided scattered dreams which seemed to reach nightmarish proportion throughout the night.

Consequently she woke to the insistent sound of the alarm clock feeling as if she hadn’t slept at all.

Not good.

She had a responsible job, she worked nights, and right now she’d give anything to bury her head in the pillow, snatch an hour’s dreamless sleep, and face an untroubled day.

Not possible.

‘Are you awake, Mummy?’

Bright eyes, tousled hair, a smile to die for … the light of her life.

Shannay reached for her daughter, gathered her close and pressed a light kiss to Nicki’s forehead.

‘Morning, sweetheart.’

‘We’re going to the park for a picnic today.’

‘Uh-huh.’ She playfully tickled Nicki’s ribs and the action brought forth a series of giggles. ‘Time to rise and shine, dress, have breakfast and—’

‘Be on the road by nine,’ Nicki completed a familiar mantra as she slid from the bed.

The picnic, the ducks, Marcello.

Not necessarily in that order, although combined they were the sole topic of Nicki’s conversation that morning.

Shannay gritted her teeth as she headed home after delivering her daughter to kindergarten.

If she heard his name mentioned again, she’d … do or say something regrettable!

One hour in his company, and he held Nicki in his thrall.

It was so not fair. And so typical of the man’s effect on the female species.

Traffic lights up ahead changed and she eased the car to a halt.

Figuratively speaking she was between a rock and a hard place. Signing or not signing the DNA paternity form only presented a relatively minor issue compared to the big picture.

The demons of the night returned tenfold, and the sudden strident sound of a car horn thrust her back into the present.

The insistent burr of her cellphone within minutes of clearing the intersection resulted in a juggling action as she changed lanes and pulled over to take the call.

‘Shannay.’

The familiar faintly accented male voice upped her nervous tension by several notches, and it took effort to summon a cool acknowledgement.

‘What do you want?’

‘We need to talk. There’s a café not far from your apartment. Meet me there in ten minutes.’

‘I have things to do, Marcello.’

‘This morning,’ Marcello elaborated, ‘in Nicki’s presence, or during your evening work hours, we will talk.’

‘You can’t—’ The words spilled, only to stop midsentence. He had no scruples whatsoever when it came to achieving his objective.

‘Choose.’

She could feel the anger surging through her body, and at that moment she truly hated him. ‘There is no choice.’

‘I’ll order a latte for you.’

Damn him to hell. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him exactly what he could do with the latte, except in some instances silence was golden, and she simply cut the connection.

Shannay reached her apartment block and eased the car down into the underground car park, locked it, then took the lift to ground level and walked out into the morning sunshine.

The café was close by, upmarket with outdoor tables and boutique sun umbrellas. A meeting place where friends assembled over designer coffee and sumptuous food to talk business, chat and watch the world go by.

There, seated outdoors, was Marcello.

Absent was the designer business suit, for today he’d chosen casual dark chinos and a white shirt unbuttoned at the neck.

It lent him a relaxed façade … one she knew to be misleading. Despite appearances to the contrary, Marcello rarely lowered his guard. It was what he’d become, who he was … and it showed.

There was something exigent that wrought a second look, a curiosity, sometimes fleeting, to check the level of power he emanated. A hint of the primitive, which unleashed could cause untold sensual havoc to a woman’s equilibrium.

A quality other men admired and coveted, but few possessed.

Marcello glanced up as she approached, and she felt the full impact of those dark eyes as they seared her own, witnessing for one moment the naked vulnerability apparent before she successfully masked it.

He signalled the waitress as Shannay slid into a seat opposite him.

Make-up free, except for a touch of gloss to her mouth, her hair caught together with a decorative clip, and dressed in jeans and a singlet top she looked scarcely more than a teenager.

Except looks could be deceptive, he mused, all too aware of the latent passion that lurked beneath that cool façade.

He remembered too well the sensual delight of her body, the persuasive touch and her eagerness to share … everything.

Heat unfurled and ran hot as he felt his own unbidden response, the need to render her willing and wanton. His, as she had been … and would be again.

No other woman came close, and he’d wanted what he once had.

Worse, he wanted her to pay for attempting to deny him any knowledge of his daughter.

‘Shannay.’

The waitress delivered her latte, and she selected two sugar tubes, broke them open and stirred in the contents.

Shannay took a deliberate sip of the frothy, milky liquid, then she carefully replaced the glass onto its saucer and met Marcello’s studied gaze.

‘Let’s get this over with, shall we?’ she suggested coolly.

‘Put our cards on the table, so to speak?’ Marcello drawled.

He was a superb strategist who played the game according to his own rules … and inevitably saved the sting for a coup de grâce.

Estimating precisely what that would encompass had kept her awake many nights and had haunted her dreams for a long time.

‘Yes.’ Delay wouldn’t achieve a thing, and wasn’t discovering the enemy’s game-plan half the battle?

‘The initial step is establishing legal evidence of my paternity.’

‘Something I won’t consent to without being fully aware of your intentions.’ Her voice was even, polite. ‘Immediate and long term.’

His eyes narrowed fractionally. ‘Whatever is decided will be primarily in Nicki’s best interests,’ he assured with hateful ease.

‘How can that be so?’ Shannay demanded, glaring at him. ‘Establishing custody rights will provide a total disruption to her life. Schooling, friends, family. Any hope of stability.’ She could feel herself winding up. ‘I’m her mother, dammit.’

He looked at her for what seemed an age, noting the fine edge of her anger, the restrained need to fight him … regardless of common-sense.

‘Nicki hasn’t displayed any curiosity about the absence of a father in her life?’

She ignored the silkiness in his voice, the latent anger held in tight control, and her eyes sharpened beneath the dark inflexibility evident in his.

‘Inevitably, soon after she began attending kindergarten,’ she revealed.

‘And?’

Her gaze didn’t waver. ‘I told her the very basic truth.’

An eyebrow lifted. ‘Enlighten me.’

‘I left her father before she was born.’ She lifted a hand and smoothed it over her hair in an unconscious gesture. ‘A number of children have single parents nowadays.’

Marcello leaned back in his chair and regarded her thoughtfully. ‘Except you’re still married, Shannay. To me.’

‘Not for much longer.’

His smile was a faint facsimile. ‘In four years you have only considered filing for divorce now?’

‘I’m not part of one of your business deals, Marcello. So quit playing psychological games.’ Shannay buttoned down her frustrated anger. ‘Spell out exactly what you intend.’

For a moment she imagined she glimpsed a fleeting shadow in the depth of his eyes, only to dismiss it.

‘With Nicki?’

‘Of course, with Nicki!’

‘Initially, I want to gift a sick elderly man the opportunity to meet his only great-grandchild.’

It wasn’t the answer she expected, nor was the mixture of emotions that tore at her heart. ‘Ramon is ill?’

The one person who had attempted to smooth over the family discord at Marcello’s choice of a wife. Someone who saw more than anyone intended, and became her ally. ‘How ill?’

‘The medical professionals predict he has only a matter of months. Maybe less.’

The implications assumed vivid reality. Achieving his objective would involve taking Nicki to Spain.

Pain escalated as it raced through her body, consuming her mind with turmoil. ‘I won’t allow you to take her overseas.’ Rationality went out the window. ‘She doesn’t have a passport. Hell, she doesn’t even know you!’

What if he didn’t bring Nicki back?

What if Nicki became distressed, distraught …?

‘Naturally, you would accompany her.’

Revisit a place where she had spent the worst twenty months of her life?

Mix with a family who hid their disapproval of Marcello’s choice of a wife beneath a thin veneer of politeness? A former lover, touted not to be so former, who delighted in causing mischief and mayhem?

‘You have to be kidding!’

‘A few weeks,’ Marcello elaborated. ‘That’s all.’

Shannay closed her eyes, then opened them again. ‘No.’

‘I gave Ramon my word.’

Something which only made the situation worse. ‘Ramon knows about Nicki?’

‘My grandfather was—’ he paused fractionally ‘—inadvertently appraised of Nicki’s existence.’

It wasn’t difficult to do the maths. ‘Penè.’ Marcello’s widowed aunt, a disgruntled woman who took delight in running interference.

She had no difficulty envisaging Sandro informing Marcello of his chance encounter a week ago, or the manner in which Penè came to hear of it.

Happy families. Not.

There was more. Ramon’s illness was only a part of it.

Her eyes narrowed. ‘And?’

One eyebrow slanted in silent query.

She took a deliberate sip of coffee, then another, before replacing the glass onto its saucer as she speared him with a direct look.

‘I don’t doubt the validity of your request. But don’t attempt to use it as a smokescreen.’ Did he think she was a naive fool?

‘Why would I do that?’

Shannay had positioned the figurative nail, now she chose to hammer it home. ‘To gain my sympathy, and dilute the major issue here.’ She waited a beat. ‘Your plans to gain custody.’ Her expression hardened a little. ‘Or is that not to form part of this discussion, and you’ll instruct your legal representative to inform mine of your intention?’

She was fearless when it came to protecting her child. He admired her strength and determination … and pondered if she was fully aware it was no match for his.

‘It will take time to work out a mutually amicable custody agreement,’ Marcello offered with deceptive indolence. ‘We need to consult and compare our individual schedules, and above all, ensure the arrangements we propose suit Nicki’s best interests. Her emotional welfare is the priority, is it not?’

Defensive assurance rose to the fore. ‘My daughter’s emotional status is just fine as it is.’

‘But circumstances have changed,’ he posed with deliberate calm. ‘Nicki is no longer the child of one parent. She has two. The legal system is purported to be fair. If we’re unable to reach an amicable agreement, a court judge will review our respective cases and award custody.’ He paused deliberately, his gaze intent on her expressive features. ‘Given the facts, do you doubt any judge will deny me reasonable access to my daughter?’

No, she conceded the hollow knowledge. But she was confident she could insist such access be confined within Australia.

‘Why do I get the feeling there’s an underlying reason behind all this?’ she demanded with increasing vexation.

‘One you obviously haven’t considered,’ Marcello ventured, then elaborated with faint emphasis. ‘Nicki’s rightful inheritance as a legitimate member of the Martinez dynasty.’

Her chin tilted, and her eyes became dark, gold-flecked obsidian. ‘For this, you require proof of paternity?’

‘A considerable fortune is involved.’

Sufficient to put Nicki on a spoilt-little-rich-girl list and all that entailed.

‘No.’

‘It is her right as a Martinez heir.’

‘Never sure of being liked for herself, or for who she is and what she can do for them? Living in a gilded cage, guarded and protected? Unable to enjoy the freedom of a normal childhood?’

Marcello drained his coffee and signalled the waitress for another, indicating only one when Shannay shook her head.

‘Wealth brings risks. Bodyguards are discreet. It’s something one learns to live with.’

She made a sweeping glance of the area, then returned her attention to him. ‘Next, you’ll tell me yours is seated near by.’ It was a comment veiled with deliberate cynicism, and she caught the slight twist at the edge of his mouth.

‘Three tables to your right. Tall, dark hair, shades, dressed in jeans and polo shirt. Carlo doubles as my personal assistant.’

So much for flippancy.

She hadn’t sensed anyone’s presence, or felt that inexplicable prickling at the back of her neck … and she definitely hadn’t seen anything to arouse suspicion.

But then, the possibility hadn’t occurred to her. She was here in Perth, Australia. A woman and her young daughter living a normal life.

Far, far removed from Madrid and the Martinez lifestyle where protection of its family members formed an integral part of their existence.

She was all too aware of Marcello’s veiled scrutiny, the watching quality as he gauged her mood, divined it, then closed in for the kill.

‘Sign the permission form, Shannay. Apply for Nicki’s passport, and request urgency on the grounds overseas travel is imminent.’

A chill shiver slithered its way down her spine. Without a passport Nicki was confined within Australia.

Once a passport was issued, her daughter would be able to travel … anywhere, independent of her mother.

The mere thought escalated her nervous tension and sent her mind spiralling with very real fear of abduction … by Marcello, if he was so inclined to take Nicki to Madrid, with or without Shannay’s permission.

Something she’d fight to guard against, at any cost.

‘Or else you’ll drag me through the courts, Marcello?’

‘Why not view a sojourn in Madrid as an opportunity for Nicki to become accustomed to my home, my family, and to enjoy aspects of the city in the security of your company?’

She knew what would follow, and he didn’t disappoint.

‘Ramon will have time with his great-grand-daughter. Is that too much to ask of you?’

‘And how is this holiday to be explained to Nicki? She’s intelligent for her age. She’ll ask questions, expect answers.’

‘Why not lead her into the truth a step at a time?’

Shannay viewed him with scepticism. ‘A suggestion from a man who has no experience with children?’

‘Is it so difficult to accept such a suggestion might have some merit?’

‘I’m all ears,’ she evinced with deliberate mockery.

‘Not to mention doubtful and prejudiced.’

Her eyes flashed chips of gold fire. ‘With good reason.’

‘Let’s focus on the current issue, shall we?’

‘Oh, by all means.’

He wanted to take hold of her fire and change it to passion, to still the anger and have her sigh beneath the touch of his mouth, his hands. To come alive and move with him, savour the anticipation, the slow emotive path to sensual ecstasy they had once enjoyed.

And would again. He intended to make certain of it.

For the challenge … and for revenge.

‘Allow Nicki to know I’m a relative of Ramon. It will explain why I am escorting you both to visit him in Madrid.’

‘You think Ramon will go along with that?’

‘I know so.’

‘And Penè?’ Shannay gave a laugh of cynical disbelief.

‘Penè will conform,’ Marcello declared hardily.

‘Sure, and cows jump over the moon!’

‘Your analogy amuses me.’

‘But … apt.’

‘You seem to forget I control the Martinez finances, from which Penè is allocated a very generous contribution to suit her preferred lifestyle.’

She got it. And knew he was sufficiently ruthless to enforce the threat should his aunt choose to ignore his wishes.

‘Perhaps you’ll explain when you intend Nicki should know—’

‘I’m her father?’ Marcello intervened. ‘When the right moment occurs.’

Which possibly might not be during their few weeks in Madrid. It even seemed feasible, for she and Nicki would obviously be staying in hotel accommodation, and making daily calls to see Ramon … whose illness would preclude lengthy visits.

There would be time to show Nicki some of the cultural aspects of her paternal heritage, to explore and have fun. It would be so easy to give in. And she almost did. Except there were still matters needing clarification.

‘What’s the catch, Marcello?’

‘Why should you think there is one?’

His voice was too mild, too neutral. ‘I have reason to be wary of your motives.’

‘While I have been nothing but honest with you.’

Shannay regarded him carefully, seeing the latent power apparent, and chose to play a few cards of her own.

‘Before I’ll agree to anything,’ she voiced with quiet determination, ‘you need to furnish notarised documentation stating a custody schedule for the next two years, subject to my approval and renewable at my discretion.’

His expression didn’t change. ‘Perhaps you’ll offer some indication what arrangements you find acceptable?’

‘Nicki can spend two weeks with you, twice a year.’ It was so small a concession it was almost pathetic. ‘While you, of course, are welcome to visit her in Perth as frequently as your business interests permit.’

‘Those are your terms?’ His query was silk-smooth and almost deadly.

‘There’s one more thing. Return airline tickets in Nicki’s and my names, and accommodation for two weeks.’

‘Three.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘Three weeks. Airline tickets are unnecessary. We’ll travel in my private jet.’

She barely managed to hold back a choked laugh. How could she have neglected to remember the private jet? ‘In that case, one-way tickets from Madrid to Perth.’

‘Specify a date, and I’ll ensure the jet is available for your return.’

Shannay rose to her feet, retrieved a note to cover the cost of her latte, and slid it beneath the saucer.

A gesture of independence, she assured silently as she caught up her wallet. ‘I’ll print up a copy of everything we’ve discussed and give it to you when we meet at the park.’ She cast her watch a quick glance, and was surprised at the passage of time.

Without a further word she turned and retraced her steps to the apartment building, aware of the strange feeling in the pit of her stomach.

She’d expected Marcello to argue her terms, even dismiss them out of hand.

Why hadn’t he?

Because he’d achieved his objective … her permission for Nicki to meet Ramon Martinez, patriarch of the Martinez dynasty.

Yet she had set the boundaries.

What was more, she’d insisted on a number of specific conditions to be set down in notarised legalese. Plus Nicki’s passport would remain in Shannay’s possession for the entire sojourn, she’d make sure of that.

All contingencies taken care of, she decided with satisfaction as she printed out two copies, closed down the laptop, then she collected a cool-pack filled with fresh fruit and drinks, caught up her bag and took the lift down to basement level.

Nicki’s excitement was palpable as Shannay collected her from kindergarten and drove towards the park.

Yes, she assured, they were on time.

Yes, she’d remembered to bring a packet of sliced bread to feed the ducks.

And yes, she was sure Marcello knew where to meet them.

The park was a popular spot, and there were several couples and families relaxing on the grassy banks overlooking the water.

It was a beautiful early summer’s day, with the whisper of a breeze teasing the heavily leaf-laden trees as Shannay selected a pleasant spot and spread a picnic rug on the ground.

‘I think he’s here,’ Nicki announced breathlessly minutes later. ‘Yes, it’s him.’ She raised her arms and waved to attract his attention.

Smile, Shannay bade silently as Marcello joined them, and she buried the faint resentment at just how easily her daughter appeared to be falling beneath his spell.

As picnics went, it was a tremendous success … from Nicki’s perspective.

The best, Nicki accorded with enthusiasm as she recounted every high point … and there were many, mostly centred around Marcello.

There was no doubt about the mutual attraction developing between father and child. Nicki’s giggles and unaffected laughter testified to it. So too did the unguarded affection Marcello displayed for his daughter.

He was a natural, Shannay had to admit, unsure how she felt about their burgeoning bond.

Dammit, it had to be a good thing, she allowed as she drove to work later that afternoon.

If she repeated the words often enough, maybe she’d begin to believe them.

The signed notarised document was already in her possession, courtesy of express courier delivery. Perusal clarified it duplicated the print-out she’d handed Marcello during lunch.

Attached had been a contact name and number to expedite the issue of Nicki’s passport.

By week’s end, they should be able to leave for Madrid.

Providing she adhered to their agreement, countersigned the notarised document, signed the DNA paternity permission form, lodged the necessary passport documentation and arranged leave of absence from her place of work.

An exceedingly efficient set of suggestions offered to hasten their departure.

Instructions, Shannay corrected, under no illusion they were anything other than Marcello’s ability to use his wealth and influence to achieve his objective.

There was a part of her that understood his motives, together with a degree of sympathy for an ailing elderly man wanting to see his only great-grandchild.

She’d covered all her bases … hadn’t she?

And three weeks was hardly a lifetime.

So why did she feel this faint niggle of apprehension?

It stayed with her as she worked, although she deliberately consigned it to the back of her mind as she gave her full attention to dispensing prescriptions, greeting and conversing with patients and customers frequenting the pharmacy.

There was the usual early-evening rush, followed by a lull, during which she had the opportunity to request a leave of absence.

John Bennett, the owner of the pharmacy who was both employer and friend, paused from his task of checking stock and gave Shannay his full attention.

‘This is a bit sudden. Care to provide the reason?’

Shannay offered the bare minimum, aware he filled in the blanks himself.

‘You consider this a wise move, Shannay?’

John was a nice man, caring and pleasant to work with. He also wanted to date her … something she refused to do. She liked him, but … and it was the but that mattered.

Friendship was fine, but not a relationship. With John, it could only be the latter and she wouldn’t contemplate taking that step.

‘It’s an amicable one.’ At least I’m being led to believe it is, she added silently. ‘And I’ve taken precautionary protective measures.’

‘Such as?’

Shannay crossed to her bag, extracted the notarised agreement and handed it to him, watchful of his expression as he read the contents.

‘You want my honest opinion?’

‘Of course.’

John folded the paperwork and passed it back to her.

‘My main concern is whether, if contested, it would stand up in a court of law.’ He paused. ‘Do you trust him?’

Trust encompassed much. ‘With Nicki’s welfare. Yes.’

‘And with yours?’ he persisted quietly.

I don’t know. ‘It’s only three weeks, John.’

‘If you’re sure.’

Sure? How could she be sure of anything that involved Marcello? They had a chequered history, one of extreme highs and lows.

A roller-coaster ride, she added silently, and stilled the sensual curl threatening to unfurl deep within her memory of what they’d shared … during the good times.

The evening followed its usual pattern, with a busy period as the nearby cinema-plex emptied and the occasional parent desperate for nursery supplies made a hurried trip to the dispensary.

It was almost closing time when the electronic door buzzer announced a last-minute arrival. Shannay checked the security-cam, and felt the breath catch in her throat as she saw Marcello moving towards the counter.

Gone were the chinos and collarless shirt he’d worn during the day. Tailored trousers, an open-necked shirt and jacket adorned his strong masculine body.

‘I’ll close up.’

Shannay heard John’s words, and quickly turned towards him, then she gathered herself together sufficiently to effect an introduction.

‘What are you doing here, and why now?’ she asked quietly as John moved towards the front entrance.

‘Whatever happened to hello?’ Marcello drawled, watching as she efficiently checked data on the computer, then closed down.

‘You were in the area and thought you’d call in?’ She lifted an eyebrow. ‘Or primarily to collect paperwork which I have yet to sign?’

‘Both,’ he concurred smoothly. ‘I’m sure John won’t object to witnessing your signature.’

Shannay was tempted to provide further delaying tactics, just for the hell of it. Except such an action would be retaliatory and pointless.

It didn’t take long, and Marcello slid the paperwork into his jacket pocket, then waited while she pulled on a jacket and caught up her bag.

She didn’t particularly want him to accompany her out into the cool night air.

He … affected her, and she wasn’t comfortable with it. Any more than she felt at ease witnessing John’s silent reticence in Marcello’s presence.

There shouldn’t be this faintly breathless sense of sexual energy attacking the fragile tenure of her control.

It made her feel slightly off-balance, aware of him at some tenuous level that threatened to shift the foundations she’d fought so hard to cement during the past few years.

Crazy, she dismissed. She was tired, that was all, and tense. Worse, she was allowing her imagination to run riot.

She shot him a cursory look as they reached the front of the pharmacy. ‘I have my own car.’

‘You object to me ensuring you reach it safely?’

His mild query elicited a faintly derisive dismissal. ‘You’re being ridiculous.’

They walked out into darkness where illumination was provided by distant streetlights and a sickle moon.

He was too close. Within touching distance, and the faint aroma of his cologne teased her senses, together with the male scent that was his alone.

Her car was parked in full view, and she deactivated the alarm, paused as Marcello opened the door, then she quickly slid in behind the wheel.

He held the door and leaned down towards her. ‘I’ll be in touch.’

Shannay inclined her head, fired the engine and sent the sedan out onto the road in the direction of home.

CHAPTER FIVE

THE LUXURIOUSLY FITTED Gulf Stream jet cruised at a diminishing altitude as it began its descent to Barajas Airport.

A long flight, during which Shannay had plenty of time to reflect … and wonder for the umpteenth time why she’d agreed to leave the relative security of her own territory for a city in a country which held so many conflicting memories for her, not all of them good.

Carlo’s presence helped ease the intimacy of so few passengers sharing the cabin, and he was a pleasant man in his early forties, tall, whipcord-lean and alert in a way that behoved his position.

It will be fine, she silently reassured.

She was in control, she’d covered every contingency, and this was only a very temporary visit to Madrid.

Nicki travelled well, in awe of her surroundings, the flight, and was almost heartbreakingly willing to please.

Marcello had become Nicki’s new best friend during the week it had taken to confirm his paternity and complete travel documentation.

There had been only one awkward moment when Nicki had asked Marcello in childish innocence, ‘Are you my uncle?’

‘I’m related to the Spanish side of your family,’ he’d responded gently, and solemn young eyes viewed him with unblinking regard.

‘Do you know my daddy?’

‘Yes, I do.’

‘Will I meet him?’

Oh, dear heaven, don’t. Not now, not yet, Shannay silently beseeched.

‘I can promise you will.’

The undisguised rapport they shared had to be a good thing, Shannay constantly reminded herself as she bit down her reaction to the gentle patience he displayed with their daughter.

It made her think of other times when she had delighted in the touch of his hand, his warm smile … and his love.

For it had been love in all its various facets, when she’d believed nothing could rend it asunder.

Yet it had, and being in his company, returning to Madrid, brought everything back into vivid focus.

She could deal with it. She had to, for Nicki’s sake.

Her daughter’s happiness, contentment and security were paramount.

So … get over it.

The jet touched down smoothly, completed the allotted runway, then slid into a designated bay where they disembarked, Marcello dealt with their baggage and formalities before directing them to a waiting limousine bearing the discreet but influential Martinez emblem.

Madrid temperatures in October were not too dissimilar to the early-summer temperatures in Perth. A pleasant time of year in both cities, neither too hot nor too cold.

Shannay saw Nicki seated in the centre of the rear seat, then slid in beside her, aware Marcello gained access on Nicki’s right.

He’d showered, shaved and changed clothes during the flight, so too had she, and, while she’d lain down with Nicki in the bedroom compartment, sleep had come only in brief snatches.

The drive into the city’s heart would take slightly less than half an hour. She had little concern about Marcello’s choice of hotel accommodation … only an impending sense of relief that their arrival would provide escape from his company at least until the next day.

He might be accustomed to changing time zones on a regular basis, but both she and Nicki were not.

Madrid, a city of splendid architecture, combining a fascinating mix of the old and modern, the cacophony of sounds, traffic, voices in a language she hadn’t heard spoken in almost four years.

Shannay felt the light press of Nicki’s fingers curled within her own, and examined her daughter’s features as she took intent interest in the passing scene beyond the lightly tinted windows.

‘It’s different,’ Nicki said tentatively.

‘The traffic travels in the opposite way from where you live. Soon it will become familiar,’ he assured, and met Shannay’s faintly lifted eyebrow.

In a three-week time-frame? I don’t think so.

A faint smile tugged the edges of his mouth as he transferred his attention to Nicki. ‘Not much longer, pequena, and we will be there.’

Nicki regarded him solemnly. ‘What did you call me?’

‘Pequena,’ he said gently. ‘It’s an affectionate name for a little girl.’

She tried it out, copying his intonation, and his smile broadened with gentle warmth as he complimented her, resulting in a beam of childish delight.

They were bonding well … and that had to be a good thing, Shannay accepted. So why did it hurt so much?

She met his gaze, attempted to read his expression, failed miserably, and transferred her attention to the scene beyond the limousine window.

Marcello did enigmatic very well.

What did she expect? For his expressed warmth towards her in Nicki’s presence to contain a grain of genuine emotion?

Please.

She didn’t feel a thing for him. Did she?

Whatever was causing her heart to quicken its beat, or the butterflies having a ball in her stomach, was merely tension. The stress of ensuring Nicki’s emotional welfare remained on an even keel.

Nearly four years’ absence had wrought few changes, and a slight frown creased her forehead when the limousine branched off the main arterial route leading into the city.

It took a few kilometres for her tension to escalate as suspicion finally dawned.

No. Please, please let me be wrong.

Shannay kept her voice light, when inwardly she was beginning to silently seethe. ‘Where are you taking us, Marcello?’

‘My home in La Moraleja.’

She shot him a look that inaudibly expressed you have to be joking. ‘A hotel suite would be more convenient.’

‘Ensuring difficulty in enforcing necessary security measures.’

His voice held a degree of steely purpose she couldn’t fail to recognise … as he had meant her to.

Her eyes sparked anger as they clashed with his, and if she could have hit him, she’d have lashed out and to hell with the consequences.

Except Nicki was closeted between them, blissfully unaware of her mother’s rapidly mounting anger.

But wait, just wait, her scathing look silently promised, until I get you alone, behind closed doors and well out of Nicki’s hearing.

It was difficult to maintain a sense of calm during the time it took to reach La Moraleja, one of Madrid’s exclusive and luxurious suburbs.

Marcello’s home was a testament to his wealth and position. Set in beautiful grounds, behind high walls and guarded by electronic gates, the mansion stood as a craftsmen’s masterpiece of rambling structural design combining two levels in cream stucco, a cream and terracotta-tiled roof and large curved windows with folding doors, most of which opened out onto a wide terracotta-tiled forecourt.

The entrance was amazing with huge double wood-panelled doors studded in polished brass, reached from a porte cochère whose floor featured an exquisite detailed design in marble, accented in polished brass.

She told herself she didn’t want to be here. Didn’t want to be reminded of the painful memories … or the good ones.

It was too personal, too painful, and too much.

Marcello had to know how being here would impact on her.

A house with rooms where they’d argued, fought, made love …

Yet it would become Nicki’s temporary home for designated periods of time throughout the year.

Years, she corrected mentally. A place her daughter needed to familiarise herself with, feel welcome in, comfortable.

Being here now made sense … for Nicki.

For Shannay, it represented a torture that would stretch her nerves to breaking point over the next three weeks.

He knew it, had planned it, and had deliberately kept her in the dark.

For that he would pay … big time, she vowed as she stepped from the limousine and accompanied Nicki into the large formal foyer where they were greeted by Maria and Emilio, trusted staff of Marcello’s who lived in and took care of the house and grounds.

Marble floors, a sweeping staircase, which curved elegantly to the upper floor, a glittering crystal chandelier against a backdrop of coloured patterned glass.

Antique furniture rested against cream walls on which hung original works of art, interspersed with decoratively corniced mini-alcoves displaying an eclectic mix of exquisite vases, bowls and Venetian glassware.

The mansion bore two wings separated by a wide oval balustraded gallery … one designed for formal entertaining with a large dining room, lounge, gourmet kitchen on the first level, while the upper floor held a large study, adjoining library, entertainment room and informal lounge. The west wing comprised three formal guest suites separated by an informal lounge on the first level, with five private suites reposing on the upper level.

The grounds held an infinity pool, a cabana, a well-equipped gym and a tennis court. There were separate self-contained staff quarters built above a large six-car garage.

A large home for one man, Shannay reflected … aware he used it as his main base in between frequent flights to various major cities in various European countries, wheeling and dealing as head of the Martinez corporation.

Marcello’s personal portfolio was enviable, providing him with billionaire status in a business world frequented by the ruthless drive for power.

Shannay wondered if he continued to entertain on a regular basis, whether he was active on the social scene and continued to support a few selected charities.

In four years there had to have been at least a few women in his life. Imagining Marcello as a celibate was beyond the bounds of credibility.

Which inevitably led to Marcello’s former lover … and Shannay’s nemesis. Estella de Cordova.

Was the über socialite still on the scene?

And if so, did Marcello intend to marry Estella after they divorced?

A cold hand clutched her heart and squeezed mercilessly hard.

Please, dear God, no.

The thought Estella might have any part in Nicki’s welfare was enough to make Shannay want to throw up.

‘You’ve had a long flight,’ Maria began quietly. ‘I have tea and some light food prepared. Afterwards, perhaps you would like to rest.’

Carlo brought in their bags and took them upstairs.

‘Tea would be lovely. Perhaps a glass of milk for Nicki,’ Shannay suggested as Marcello indicated the staircase.

‘First, I’ll show you to your rooms.’

A personal escort? Somehow she expected him to disappear into his home office.

‘It’s a big house,’ Nicki voiced quietly as they reached the upper level. ‘Do other people live here?’

‘Sometimes there are guests,’ Marcello said gently, meeting her dark, solemn gaze.

‘Like Mummy and me.’

‘Yes.’

Shannay felt her stomach execute a slow somersault as he turned away from the wing containing the guest suites and moved down the opposite passage.

She knew the family wing well. Elegant suites, beautifully furbished and furnished.

Did Marcello sleep alone in the master suite, or had he chosen another?

Whoa. Where had that come from?

As if she cared where he slept … as long as it was in a suite far from the one Maria had prepared for herself and Nicki.

The master suite rose vividly in her mind. Positioned at the far end of the family wing, it comprised a large bedroom, two en suites, two walk-in wardrobes and an adjoining room containing comfortable deep-seated chairs, a sofa, reading lamps.

Had he had the suite redecorated?

‘No.’

Shannay heard his soft drawl and refused to look at him, hating that he still retained the ability to read her mind.

He paused at an open door. ‘I think you’ll be comfortable here.’

Here was two bedrooms separated by an en suite, with one of the bedrooms decorated especially for a young girl. Different shades of pink, from the palest shade to watermelon. Prints hung on the walls, toys in abundance, and the bed was fit for a princess.

Nicki’s room.

Shannay got it.

A room that was Nicki’s alone, for whenever she visited. A suite she would become familiar with, feel comfortable in and look forward to occupying.

Not too far in distance from where Marcello slept while she was young, so she would feel secure, knowing he was within calling distance.

There was a part of her that hated him for deliberately setting the scene for Nicki’s future.

Yet there was also a feeling of gratitude that she didn’t want to acknowledge. Together with a mounting anxiety that played havoc with her emotions.

‘Is this where I’ll sleep?’

Nicki’s voice held a degree of wondrous awe.

‘Yes.’ Marcello moved towards the en suite, opened the connecting door and crossed to the opposite door which led into an adjoining bedroom. ‘Your mother will sleep here.’

‘Can the doors stay open?’ Nicki queried tentatively, and he offered a reassuring smile.

‘Of course.’

Nicki caught hold of her mother’s hand. ‘Aren’t we lucky?’ she said simply, to which Shannay could only answer in the affirmative.

‘Marcello is kind to let us stay here.’

She could think of numerous descriptive adjectives … not one of them remotely resembled kind, given he had his own agenda.

Their luggage stood at the end of the bed, and Marcello indicated both suitcases. ‘Maria will unpack for you. Freshen up, then come downstairs.’

He gave Nicki a warm smile, extended it towards Shannay, then he turned and left the room.

Unpacking would take only a matter of minutes, and Shannay tended to her own, then she transferred Nicki’s clothes into the connecting bedroom.

A short while later she accompanied Nicki downstairs to the informal lounge, where Maria served tea, delicate sandwiches and a bowl of freshly cut fruit.

Dinner would be served late … way past Nicki’s usual bedtime, and Shannay decided sandwiches and a glass of milk would suffice as an evening meal on this occasion.

Marcello’s presence was unexpected. For some reason she had imagined he’d disappear into his home office and remain there until dinner. A meal she intended to skip on the pretext of bathing Nicki and settling her to sleep.

The flight had been long, his company a constant, and she desperately needed a break from him.

Nicki ate little, drank her milk and began to visibly droop.

‘If you’ll excuse us?’ Shannay took hold of her daughter’s hand. ‘Say goodnight, darling.’

Nicki politely obliged, and Marcello surprised them both by lifting the young child into his arms.

‘I can take her.’ She reached out, expecting Nicki to lean towards her … except her daughter remained where she was.

She told herself she wasn’t hurt. Silently assured herself it didn’t matter. But it did.

Nicki’s head had tucked in against the curve of his throat as they reached the bedroom, and he gently lowered her down onto the bed.

‘Thanks.’ It was a polite, perfunctory gesture that didn’t fool him in the slightest.

His eyes seared her own. ‘I’ll see you at dinner.’

‘I’d prefer to remain close to Nicki in case she wakes.’

He regarded her steadily. ‘There’s a monitor in her room, and auditory receptive devices in every room in the house.’ His gaze didn’t waver. ‘Dinner will be served in two hours. Plenty of time for you to bathe and settle her to sleep before you join me.’

Shannay longed to tell him to go jump. She was on edge, angry, and feeling the effects of jet lag. The thought of sharing a meal with him held no appeal whatsoever.

Yet it would provide the opportunity to vent … and she so badly needed to vent!

He leant down and brushed his lips to Nicki’s temple.

‘Sleep well, pequena.’ He straightened, sent Shannay a piercing look, then he turned and left the room.

She had the childish desire to pull a face behind his back, except she restrained herself and tended to her daughter.

Two hours and five minutes later she descended the stairs and made her way towards the informal dining room.

Five minutes over time was acceptable, and in her case deliberate, for she refused to conform to every one of Marcello’s dictates.