The Helen Bianchin Collection (Mills & Boon E-Book Collections) (76 page)

Good. With luck she’d be asleep in her room by the time he came upstairs.

As a plan, it worked very well. Except she failed to take into consideration he’d carry through with his threat.

For she came sharply awake as her room was flooded with light, followed seconds later by firm hands lifting her effortlessly against a hard male chest as Marcello calmly carried her along the gallery to the master suite.

‘You fiend.’ The accusation came out as a strangled whisper as she clenched a fist and thumped it against his shoulder.

An action which had no effect whatsoever, and she angled her head, then sank her teeth into hard muscle, heard his indrawn breath and then yelped as he closed the door behind him with one hand and released her to stand on the floor.

‘Get into bed.’ His voice was a silken drawl. ‘And shut that sassy mouth, before I’m tempted to shut it for you.’

She cast him a furious look that should have withered him on the spot. ‘Go to hell.’

Without a further word he hefted her over one shoulder and crossed to the bed, then he slid between the covers, placed her struggling body firmly to one side and curved his own around her.

A simple movement and the light was extinguished, and she lay there fuming, desperately wanting to fight, but aware precisely what it would lead to if she did.

‘Go to sleep.’

Sure.
That was likely!

Held close against him, absorbing his body heat, and attempting to ignore the intense sensuality apparent?

As if
sleep
was going to happen any time soon!

Yet the day’s events coupled with the previous night finally caught up with her, and the last thing she remembered was feeling … safe.

T
HE ENSUING FEW DAYS
followed a similar pattern with morning visits with Ramon, followed by an outing for Nicki’s benefit with Carlo in attendance.

Together they spent hours at the Warner Bros Park at San Martin de la Vega, and, perhaps the most exciting of all, the Parque de Atracciones.

A magical time for a child, Shannay accorded indulgently as Nicki fell asleep each night before the first page was turned of her bedtime story.

As to the nights … Attempting to sleep in her own suite, only to find herself waking in Marcello’s bed, became an exercise in futility. Accepting she was no match for her husband irked unbearably.

Eventually she admitted defeat and slid into his bed at the end of another tiring day.

Where she stayed. Not, she assured herself, because she
wanted
to … merely to prove she could lie within touching distance and
sleep …
eventually.

She just wickedly hoped he
suffered.

As she did, when he gathered her close … yet made no further move. A hand that slid to her breast … and remained still. Or rested on her hip, and stayed there.

Was he deliberately testing her?

Maybe she should respond in kind and test
him.

Except such a move could be tricky. What if he divined it as an indicative sanction for sex?

Then she would not only lose the battle, she’d also lose the war.

And that would never do.

The weekend brought Marcello’s obligatory attendance at a gala event lauded by the city’s scions.

Invitation only, black tie, and Shannay was apprised of the need to wear something
stunning
by Penè, who had stopped by the mansion to visit Nicki.

The unspoken message was very clear, and racked up Shannay’s nervous tension to unbelievable heights during a shopping expedition the day before with Marcello’s aunt in attendance for
the
gown, stilettos and accessories.

It was an indisputable fact that Penè
knew
fashion as they progressed from one boutique to another, and they eventually settled on a dream of a gown by Armani in pale peach and apricot silk chiffon. Full-length, the skirt was cut on the bias and bore a clever bias-cut overlay in peach over apricot. A silk chiffon stole added an extra elegance, and Shannay could only applaud Penè’s selection.

Exquisite evening sandals and matching evening bag were added to the growing collection Carlo stowed in the back of the Porsche.

Penè was in her element, clearly revelling in playing the
grande dame
with the various
vendeuses,
and enjoying their obsequious attention.

Shannay found it all a bit much as the evening closing hours drew near.

‘Minimum jewellery,’ Marcello’s aunt stated. ‘The gown requires little enhancement. Your hair should be confined in a sleek style, definitely not loose. Understated make-up with emphasis on the eyes and mouth.’

‘I agree.’

‘You look peaky.’ Penè eyes were piercing above her patrician nose. ‘Is my nephew keeping you awake nights?’

Oh, my. A
yes
or
no
would be an equally incriminating response.

The look sharpened. ‘Are you pregnant?’

Now that was a definite negative. ‘No.’

‘You should have another child,’ Penè said bluntly. ‘Marcello needs a son to take the Martinez name into the next generation.’

She couldn’t help herself. ‘He already has a daughter.’

‘A son,’ Penè insisted imperiously. ‘Named Ramon, in honour of my father.’

‘What if I were to consider filing for divorce?’ She chose not to reveal she’d already set the legalities in motion.

‘Divorce for a Martinez isn’t an option. Marcello would refuse to countenance such a thing.’ She looked suitably astonished. ‘Foolish girl. What are you thinking? He can give you everything you desire.’

Except the one thing I want.

His heart.

I gave him mine, unconditionally … only to discover he didn’t value it.

‘I think we’re done,’ Shannay said aloud. She even managed a faint smile as Carlo added another emblem-emblazoned designer bag to their mounting collection.

Carlo delivered Penè to Ramon’s residence, then continued to La Moraleja.

Nicki was tucked in bed with Marcello seated on its edge as he read from a storybook when Shannay entered the bedroom.

Attired in black jeans and a black chambray shirt, he looked totally at ease, and she tamped down the emotional reaction stirring deep within at the mere sight of him.

Pheronomes, intense sexual awareness … it was attraction at its most dangerous, and need, basic and earthy, pulsed through her body.

She remembered only too well when she had only to look at him to witness the secret promise in those dark eyes, and know how the night would end … as it almost always did.

A time when they couldn’t get enough of each other.

Until the doubts crept in, and everything began to change.

‘Mummy!’

There was time out for a mutual kiss and a hug before Nicki settled back against the pillow.

‘Daddy and me went swimming in the pool. And I’ve had dinner and a bath.’ Brown eyes widened. ‘And I cleaned my teeth.’

‘Well done,’ Shannay said with warmth, including both man and child, and incurred a studied appraisal. ‘Thanks,’ she added quietly.

‘No problem.’ He glimpsed the faint edge of pain, the aftermath of several hours in Penè’s company. ‘A productive afternoon?’

‘I’m sure we maxed your credit card.’

A faint smile tugged the edges of his mouth. ‘Doubtful.’

Yes, she supposed it was, and she added— ‘Thank you. Penè’s help was invaluable.’

But tiring, he deduced, all too aware of his aunt’s incessant need to constantly verbalise with an opinion on everything in an often uncompromising manner.

‘Can I see what you bought?’

Marcello leant forward and lightly touched Nicki’s cheek. ‘In the morning,
pequena.
Now let’s find out what happens to Cinderella, shall we?’

‘She goes to the ball and comes home in a pumpkin,’ Nicki relayed solemnly, and Marcello smiled.

‘I think you’ve heard this story before.’

‘It’s my favourite.’

One of many, Shannay reflected as she sat down on the opposite side of the bed while Marcello finished reading, by which time Nicki had fallen asleep, and Shannay turned down the light and preceded him from the room.

‘I’ll go change, then meet you downstairs.’ The thought of food held little appeal. Given a choice she’d prefer to eat at the time of the late-afternoon
merienda,
as Nicki did.

A quick shower proved refreshing, and she slipped into dress jeans, pulled on a short-sleeved rib-knit top in a deep coral, twisted her hair into a loose knot, then added lipgloss.

Dinner comprised a light omelette with salad, followed by fresh fruit, during the eating of which they caught up on their individual afternoon activities.

‘Penè was suitably restrained?’

Shannay took a careful sip of water and replaced the glass down onto the table before directing Marcello a pensive look.

‘You want polite?’

He pushed his plate to one side and viewed her with speculative interest. ‘I’m very familiar with my aunt’s penchant for plain speaking.’

‘In essence, I’m peaky … the cause of which must be you keeping me awake nights, or I’m pregnant. Preferably the latter, as it’s my duty to provide you with another child. A son.’

Marcello sank back in his chair. ‘I’m intrigued to hear your response.’

‘Let’s just say it invoked the reminder a Martinez would never countenance divorce.’

His eyes seared her own. ‘You can have whatever you want, Shannay … with one exception. A divorce.’

A sudden lump rose in her throat, and she swallowed it carefully. ‘I don’t want gifts, haute couture or a high-profile social life. They mean nothing to me. They never did.’

‘Yet we share the gift of a child.’

‘The one thing I won’t let you take away from me,’ Shannay vowed with renewed fervour, and something flickered in the depths of his eyes before it was successfully masked.

‘It was never my intention to do so.’

‘Yet you’d consign us both to a convenient marriage where we maintain a façade in public?’ Her eyes darkened, and pain curled deep inside. ‘For what purpose, Marcello?’ She drew in a slightly ragged breath. ‘Revenge … because I didn’t inform you of Nicki’s existence?’

‘Is that what you think?’

‘I think you’re playing a game,’ she flung, sorely tried as she rose to her feet.

Dignity and pride. She possessed both, and she walked away from him without a further glance, uncaring whether he followed or not.

Sleep proved elusive, and she tossed and turned, only to slip out of bed and take something to ease a tension headache.

Eventually she must have slept, for she came awake aware she was no longer in her own bed, but held in strong masculine arms as Marcello traversed the dimly lit gallery
en route
to his own suite.

‘Put me down!’ Her voice was little more than a sibilant hiss as she struggled against him.

Without success, and she balled a fist and lashed out uncaring as to where it landed.

In a matter of seconds he entered the suite, closed the door behind him, then released her down to stand in front of him.

Shannay glared at him in open defiance, hating him in that instant as she ignored the darkness evident in his eyes and the bunched muscle at the edge of his jaw.

‘This is ridiculous. You’re
impossible!’
She released a growl of frustration.

‘That’s the best you can do?’

She ignored his indolent drawl, the waiting, watching quality in his stance … and launched into a barely restrained diatribe that used every emotive adjective she could recall.

One eyebrow slanted as she came to a halt, and he posed silkily, ‘You’re done?’

‘Yes,
dammit!’

‘Good.’

He captured her shoulders and drew her in, then he closed his mouth over her own, took all the fiery heat and tamed it, ignoring her flailing fists as they faltered and fell to her sides.

He wanted her unbidden response, and deliberately sought it, sensing the low groan deep in her throat as she fought against capitulation. Followed soon after by the involuntary slide of her tongue against his own, the sudden hitch in her breath as she angled her head and allowed him free access.

One hand slid to her nape, while the other moved down her back, bunched the oversized T-shirt and slipped beneath the cotton fabric to cup and gently squeeze her bottom.

His body tightened unbearably and he lifted her, eased her thighs apart, then positioned her to accept his fully aroused
length as he eased into the slick, welcoming heat, heard her faint sigh … and surged in to the hilt.

Then it was his turn to bite back a guttural sound as her vaginal muscles enclosed him, and he began to move, creating a rhythm that sent them both high until they reached the brink, then soared together in a shattering climax.

At some stage Marcello had dispensed with her T-shirt, although she had no recollection of
when,
only that she was naked in his arms and his lips were tantalising hers, nibbling and teasing until she held fast his head and kissed him with such exquisite eroticism he was hard-pressed not to take her again.

Instead he crossed to the bed, eased down onto his back with her sitting astride him.

Her mouth was softly swollen, and his eyes darkened as she lifted both hands and tucked her hair behind each ear. The movement lifted her breasts, and he traced their soft curves, teased the tender peaks … and watched her eyes glaze over.

They were both at each other’s mercy, and she shifted deliberately, glimpsed the increasing darkness apparent in his gleaming gaze, then she gave a startled cry as he brought her down and took one tender peak into his mouth.

Intense pleasure spiralled through her body as he suckled, and a warning hiss escaped from her lips as he caught the swollen bud between his teeth and rolled it to the point beyond pleasure to the imminent edge of pain.

It made her acutely vulnerable, and she opened her mouth to plead with him, only for the pressure to ease as he soothed the tender peak.

Then he wrapped his arms around her slender frame and rolled until she lay beneath him. For a moment he drank in the sight of her, the wildness of her hair, the sensual glow warming her skin, and the magical passion they shared.