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Sweet Revenge: The Martinez Marriage Revenge / The Italian Billionaire's Ruthless Revenge / The Kouros Marriage Revenge
JACQUELINE BAIRD
HELEN BIANCHIN
ABBY GREEN
Reclaiming his wife! Shannay’s marriage to billionaire Marcello Martinez ended four years ago, but now Marcello has discovered she hid his child from him! Marcello is determined Shannay will pay – by returning to their marital home and their marriage bed! Ruthless pursuit…Guido Barberi hasn’t set eyes on his ex-wife since she left him – taking with her a quarter of a million dollars! But he’s determined to have his revenge by bedding her again. Sara is shocked that Guido is even more attractive and dangerous; she desires him twice as much…Society wedding of the year!When Greek shipping magnate Alexandros Kouros wed Kallie Demarchis, media photos showed happy scenes. But Kallie had married Alex to save her family’s business. Alex was taking great pleasure in his revenge for her long-ago betrayal!
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 (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
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.
