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She finished her tea, then she transferred everything from the table onto a mobile trolley and wheeled it into the kitchen. It took only minutes to stow food into the refrigerator and stack the dishwasher.
‘I need to make a few international calls, send some emails,’ Marcello informed as she returned to the dining room.
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.
CHAPTER TEN
THE 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.
