Sweet Revenge

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.