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The frown she gave him seemed too quick to be anything but genuine, but he was well used to the guiles of women with dollar signs in their eyes.
‘You think I want to be paid to be your wife?’ she asked.
He pinned her grey gaze with his. ‘You can have what you want, Sabrina, name your figure. I want Molly under my care and I will pay anything to achieve it.’
This time her face went pale and her small, white teeth began to gnaw at her bottom lip. ‘I think you’ve got the wrong idea about me—’
‘Let’s not dawdle any longer over this, Sabrina,’ he cut her off impatiently. ‘I realise moving to another country is a big step to take—but, with what has been happening here recently, do you not think it is an ideal time to escape from all the innuendo and speculation that has surrounded you?’
Sabrina felt her face crawl with colour. Just like everyone else in Sydney, he thought she was guilty. She could see it in his eyes, the way they ran over her as if he could see right through her clothes. The press hadn’t done her any favours, certainly, but surely he of all people knew how the media worked? He had been subjected to it all of his life, so how unfair was it for him to so readily assume she was as she had been portrayed?
But marry him?
Her stomach dropped at the thought of being in the same country as him, let alone the same room. He was everything she was not. Hadn’t she proved that by her clumsy attempt to kiss him that day? How could she possibly agree to marry him and subject herself to daily temptation? And, even more worrying, would she be able to withstand any attempt on his part to consummate the union if he took it upon himself to do so? He was temptation personified. She could feel the sexual energy of him here and now. Every time his eyes connected with hers it was like being exposed to powerful radiation, making her body hum inside and out.
‘You have not found a new position as a live-in nanny, and it is my guess you will not be able to for quite some time,’ he continued. ‘After all, what self-respecting wife would want to employ a well-known seductress to take care of her children?’
Sabrina ground her teeth. ‘I am no such thing. I was used as a scapegoat and no one would believe me.’
His expression was brimful with cynicism. ‘It is of no concern to me what you did or who you did it with,’ he said. ‘I need a wife in a hurry, and as far I can see you are the most suitable candidate.’
She curled her top lip at him. ‘I find it surprising you would want a wife with such a track record as mine. Aren’t you concerned I will be a bad influence on Molly?’
‘I have seen you with Molly, and I do not have any doubts over your love and care for her,’ he said. ‘Besides, she is used to you handling her, and I do not want her routine disrupted any more than it has been already. I do not know the first thing about babies, and quite frankly nor do any of the women I normally associate with. Plus, it was the wish of Laura and Ric that we should care for Molly.’
Sabrina felt a tiny hook-like tug somewhere in the middle of her chest at the thought of all the women he would continue to see if she married him. ‘A marriage of convenience’ was the term, a mutual agreement that benefited both parties, this time for the sake of a small, tragically orphaned child. Mario would continue his playboy lifestyle while she would act the role of the long-suffering wife. Oh, she would be well and truly compensated, of that she was sure. Money was no object when it came to the Marcolini bloodline. Upon his father’s death a few months ago, Mario had taken over the Marcolini investment business even though he was not the eldest son. His older brother Antonio was a high-profile plastic surgeon who travelled the world lecturing on his ground-breaking techniques for facial reconstruction surgery.
Between the two of them the money they had inherited and earned was beyond anything Sabrina could imagine. When she had lost her mother at the age of ten, the foster family who had taken her in had by no means been on the breadline, but they’d been frugal and conservative with their spending and their lifestyle. Necessities were saved for and purchased, but never luxuries. Sabrina had not even been to a proper restaurant until the age of sixteen, when she had saved up enough money from her various babysitting jobs to go out to celebrate a friend’s birthday.
Mario Marcolini on the other hand had probably been fed by five-star chefs all his silver-spooned life. The suit he was wearing looked as if it was a designer label; the silver watch on his tanned wrist probably cost more than her car. Everything about him spoke of wealth and privilege, which was no doubt where he had obtained his air of arrogance. His cleanly shaven jaw had a hint of stubbornness to it, and although she knew from experience how sinfully sensual his mouth could be she suspected it too could be equally intransigent if anyone stood in the way of what he wanted.
The sound of a tiny cry came from the pram, and Sabrina blinked herself out of her stasis to soothe Molly, who was due for a feed and change. ‘Hey there, little one,’ she cooed as she picked up the little pink bundle. ‘What is all the fuss about, hmm? Are you hungry?’
‘May I hold her?’
Sabrina turned with the baby in her arms, surprised at how deep and scratchy Mario’s voice had sounded. ‘Of course,’ she said, stepping towards him.
He took the baby carefully from her arms, one of his hands brushing against her breast as he did so. Sabrina tried to disguise her reaction, but she could feel the heat pooling in her cheeks all the same.
She watched as he cradled Molly against his broad chest, his large hands and long, strong forearms making the infant look so small in comparison. A corner of his mouth began to lift in a wistful smile as he looked down at the little girl, one of his long fingers stroking her tiny cheek. ‘Ciao, piccolo;sono il vostro nuovo papa,’ he said.
Sabrina found it amazing how one small infant could effect such a change in a man’s demeanour. Gone was the cynical glint in his dark gaze; in its place was a tender warmth that made her wish he would look at her like that. She pulled back from her traitorous thoughts, shocked at how she was reacting to him. Perhaps it was his out-of-the-blue proposal that had weakened her normally rigid resolve. Like him, she would do anything to protect Molly, but what he was suggesting made her feel as if she was wading out of her depth into very murky, dangerous water.
Being formally tied to him would mean much more than sharing a house and the care of a child. In spite of his assurance, the marriage would not be a real one. She couldn’t help but think living with him over any period of time would blur the boundaries, for her if not for him. From the first moment she had met him at Laura and Ric’s wedding eighteen months ago, she had felt a zapping sensation when his deep brown eyes had meshed with hers. It had made every nerve beneath her skin tingle with awareness; her stomach had felt hollow and her legs watery. He had flirted with her outrageously, and yet somehow she had managed to play it cool even though inside she had been simmering with reaction, a reaction she had not been able to control when she had met him again just a few weeks ago. She was not normally the sort of woman to have her head turned with suave good looks. She had always been so guarded around men, which made the fiasco with the Roebournes all the more ridiculously ironic.
There was a sound at the door, and Ingrid Knowles came sweeping in. ‘Where is my grandchild?’ she asked, her words slurring slightly. ‘I want to show her off to some of my friends who have just arrived.’
Sabrina felt her back come up like the fur of a cornered cat. ‘Molly needs changing and feeding first,’ she said. ‘And she is not your grandchild—she is no relation to you whatsoever.’
Ingrid’s mouth pulled tight as she gave Sabrina an up-and-down look that had talons attached. ‘You think you’re going to keep her, don’t you? Well, you are not. I have already spoken to my lawyer. You don’t stand a chance—not after what you did to poor Imogen Roebourne, seducing her husband behind her back.’
Sabrina felt one of Mario’s arms go round her waist, while the other cradled the baby against his broad chest. ‘You have been misinformed, Mrs Knowles,’ he said with cool authority. ‘Sabrina was totally innocent in the Roebourne affair. The press made it out to be something it was not.’
Ingrid gave a grating laugh. ‘And you believe her?’
‘Yes, I do, actually,’ he responded smoothly. ‘I would not be marrying her otherwise.’
Ingrid’s penciled eyebrows shot upwards. ‘You’re marrying her?’ she choked in stunned surprise.
His arm subtly tightened around Sabrina’s waist. ‘We will be married as soon as it can be arranged and take Molly with us back to Italy.’
Ingrid turned her attention to Sabrina. ‘Is this true?’ she asked, with a gaze as narrow as a starling’s. ‘Are you really marrying this man?’
Sabrina felt the seconds ticking by as she hesitated before she answered. The band of Mario’s arm was warm about her; she could feel every one of his splayed fingers on her hip, the warmth spreading to her inner thighs like a trail of slow-burning fire. By opening her mouth and agreeing to his plan she knew she was not just stepping onto hot coals but throwing herself into the flames.
Her eyes flicked to where Molly was nestled against Mario’s chest, her sweet little doll-like face turned in Sabrina’s direction. Her little Cupid’s bow mouth smiled as she looked at her, and for Sabrina that clinched it. How could she possibly say no now?
‘Um…I…yes,’ she said. ‘That’s right. We’re, er, getting married.’
Ingrid gave her another scathing look. ‘Then you are an even bigger gold-digger than I thought. You hardly know the man. You’ve met him—what?—twice? How can you possibly think of marrying him unless it’s for money? That’s what this is about, isn’t it? You’ve always fancied being the wife of a rich man, and who is richer than a Marcolini?’
Sabrina felt her face suffuse with colour. ‘This is not about money.’
‘That is correct,’ Mario interjected. ‘It is about what is best for Molly. It’s what her parents wanted for her.’
Ingrid threw Mario a malevolent glare. ‘You don’t stand a chance. Stanley will engage a top lawyer who will make mincemeat of you.’
Mario’s eyes glinted with steely implacability. ‘Before he does that, perhaps you had better tell him I know all about what he has been doing with the Whinstone account.’
There was a throbbing pause.
Sabrina could see how Laura’s stepmother was clenching and unclenching her teeth, her green eyes darting about nervously. She almost felt sorry for the woman. For all Ingrid’s beverage-fuelled bravado, what chance did she stand with Mario Marcolini as an opponent?
‘You’re not going to win this,’ Ingrid said through thin lips, although her defiant stance had visibly sagged.
Mario’s hand tightened possessively on Sabrina’s hip as he gave the older woman an imperious smile. ‘I believe I just did,’ he said. ‘Sabrina has agreed to be my wife, and that as far as I am concerned is the end of it.’
No, Sabrina thought with a funny, moth-like fluttering sensation in her stomach as Ingrid stalked out. It is just the beginning.
CHAPTER TWO
‘YOU DO not need to look so worried, Sabrina,’ Mario said as he gently handed Molly over. ‘I don’t think we will hear from Mrs Knowles again once we are officially married.’
Sabrina busied herself with seeing to the baby’s needs rather than meet his eyes. Oh, dear God, what had she committed herself to? There was no way she could wriggle out of this without compromising Molly. Mario had hinted at something untoward in Stanley Knowles’s business dealings. And, knowing what Laura had felt about her stepmother and what Sabrina had seen for herself, how could she step aside now to let such people be the guardians of her little god-daughter?
The tiny baby girl cooed at her as if to confirm it, her tiny arms reaching towards Sabrina’s face, the little starfish hands touching her on the cheeks, a gurgling chuckle of delight coming out of her rosebud mouth.
‘I will arrange for a special license,’ Mario said, watching as she leaned forward to press a soft kiss to the middle of each of Molly’s tiny palms.
Sabrina continued to dress Molly with hands that were not quite steady. ‘How soon do you expect it will be before we…?’ She faltered over the word. ‘Er, marry?’
‘As soon as it can be arranged,’ he answered. ‘No longer than a week, maybe even less.’
Sabrina felt her stomach lurch sideways. A week? She picked up the baby and laid her against her right shoulder as she faced him again. ‘That seems…rather rushed.’
‘Do you have a current passport?’ he asked.
‘Yes, but—’
‘Good,’ he said. ‘I will need that and your birth certificate to make all the arrangements.’
‘Mario, I—’
‘It is imperative we get going on this, Sabrina,’ he said with an indomitable look. ‘Besides, I want to get back home to where my business commitments await me.’
No doubt your mistress awaits you too, Sabrina thought resentfully as she took out Molly’s bottle, which was encased in the Thermos container, and settled down to feed the restless baby. Once Molly was sucking contentedly, Sabrina looked up at Mario who was standing a short distance away, watching her like a predator with its targeted prey.
‘You said it wasn’t to be a real marriage,’ she said, feeling her cheeks bloom with colour, and her whole body shiver in reaction as she thought of what a real marriage to him would involve if he put his mind to it. ‘You also intimated it was temporary. What sort of time limit are you thinking of?’
‘Molly is a tiny infant,’ he said. ‘She needs a full-time mother at least until she is of nursery-school age.’
Sabrina felt suspicion crawl up her spine, making her sit more upright in her chair. ‘So what happens then?’ she asked.
‘I will engage the services of a nanny and then you can have your freedom.’
Sabrina frowned at his arrogance. ‘So I am to be expelled from Molly’s life just like that?’ she asked.
‘Not necessarily from Molly’s life,’ he said. ‘But from mine. We can have a quiet dissolution of the marriage and then both get on with our lives.’
‘So let me get this straight,’ she said with a guarded look. ‘You get full guardianship of Molly in Italy while I get sent back to Australia, is that what you’re suggesting?’
He gave an indifferent lift of one broad shoulder. ‘That will be entirely up to you, of course,’ he said. ‘As my ex-wife you will have full residency in my country, but whether you choose to live in Rome or Sydney will ultimately be your decision.’
‘Do you really think I would just walk away from Molly as if she meant nothing to me?’ she asked, still frowning furiously. ‘And what about what Molly wants? She will have come to look upon me as her mother. She’s practically doing it now. What you are suggesting is not just outrageous, it’s cruel to both Molly and to me.’
He lifted his dark brows at her vehemence. ‘Come now, Sabrina,’ he said coolly. ‘You have looked after young children before, becoming involved with every aspect of their lives, only to leave when the family no longer requires your services.’
‘That’s not the same thing at all,’ Sabrina argued.
‘Are you saying you did not have any affection for the children you were employed to look after?’ he asked.
Sabrina could feel her hatred of him simmering in her veins. It was pulsing through the intricate, narrow network in her body, threatening to burst out at any moment. She knew what he was doing; he was going to sideline her right from the start. She would be more than useful to him during the next two or three years while Molly was a baby and toddler, but after that she would be dismissed, just like any other servant in his employ.
‘Of course I develop great affection for the children in my care, but Molly is my godchild, the daughter of my best friend. It’s an entirely different relationship, especially given the circumstances now.’
‘Your marriage to me will not be permanent,’ he said. ‘As long as you understand that, there will not be a problem if you wish to continue to see Molly once our marriage is brought to an end.’
Sabrina stood and lifted the baby against her chest to wind her, gently patting the tiny back, her eyes still tussling with his. ‘You think you’ve got this all worked out, haven’t you? I know what you are doing, Mario. You want a cheap babysitter while you continue to live your playboy lifestyle.’
He gave her a smile, his eyes reflecting its mockery. ‘Cheap, Sabrina?’ he said. ‘Is that how you would describe yourself? Certainly the press called you such, and a whole lot more, if I recall.’
She gave him a flinty glare. ‘I am not going to be dismissed from Molly’s life at your say-so. I want to remain a part of her life no matter what happens between us.’
‘Nothing is going to happen between us, Sabrina,’ he said. ‘Or have you got other ideas, hmm? A little affair with me to pass the time, just like you did with Mr Roebourne, sì?’
This time her look was withering. ‘I have met some creeps in my time, and up until now Howard Roebourne was at the top of that list. But you, Mario Marcolini, have just bumped him off.’
His smile was still mocking as he came up close and stroked a long finger down the baby’s cheek. Sabrina sucked in a breath; he was so close she could see the sandpapery stubble on his jaw, and the unfathomable black holes of his pupils in the deep, dark chocolate of his eyes. The air around her face carried a trace of his scent, a mixture of aftershave and male pheromones, making her heart give a funny, out-of-time beat.
She quickly lowered her eyes and encountered the flat plane of his chest and stomach; she could almost imagine the six pack of ridged muscle lying beneath his designer shirt. She daren’t look any lower; she had spent too many nights as it was thinking about how he was made. The hardened length of him in full arousal as he had taken control of her amateur kiss at Molly’s christening had made the blood race frantically in her veins both then and since.
She felt his finger beneath her chin as he lifted her face upwards. ‘Is that how you did it?’ he asked with a curl of his lip and a hard glint in his eyes. ‘Is that how you lured a respectable married man away from his wife, by looking at him with those smoky, grey come-to-bed eyes of yours?’
Sabrina would have pulled away from his touch but she didn’t want to disturb Molly, who had drifted off to sleep against her shoulder. ‘I did not seduce him, or anyone,’ she said, glaring back at him.
His finger moved from beneath her chin and came to her mouth, tracing a pathway over the fullness of her bottom lip, barely touching, making every sensitive nerve begin to leap and dance beneath the skin. ‘Ah, but that is not quite true, is it, Sabrina?’ he said in a low spine-loosening murmur. ‘It is not hard to see why so many men would find it hard to resist a taste of its sweetness. I have not forgotten how tempting it was to taste it myself when you so very kindly offered it to me.’
Sabrina stood very still, barely able to breathe in case she betrayed herself. She wanted to taste his finger, to draw it into her mouth, to suck on it, to see if his pupils would flare with desire the way she suspected hers were currently flaring. Her gaze flicked to his mouth, the sensual contours of it pulling on the secret strings of desire deep and low in her belly. It was like torture to stand so close and not touch him. She had blamed the champagne the day of the christening, but she was stone-cold sober now, and still she wanted his mouth to set hers alight. What was wrong with her? Was she somehow turning into the raunchy Jezebel the press had made her out to be?
His hand dropped from her face. ‘I need to get going,’ he said, glancing at his watch. ‘I will come by your apartment this evening with some papers for you to sign.’
Sabrina could feel the walls of her prison starting to close in on her. When Mario Marcolini wanted something done, he was like a freight train going at full speed. This was the time to say, no, I won’t be a part of this. Why then wasn’t she saying it? The words were on the tip of her tongue, hovering there, but somehow she couldn’t utter them out loud. Saying no to Mario would be saying no to Molly; she was sure of it.
He had already demonstrated how ruthless he could be in his dealings with Laura’s stepmother earlier. What was to stop him doing the same to her? If she refused to marry him he was quite likely to use her sullied reputation against her. He would apply for full custody of Molly, and with his wealth and status there wouldn’t be a judge in the country who wouldn’t give it to him. With his pedigree and fortune he had so much to offer a little orphaned child. And Sabrina knew full well if he didn’t marry her to secure his claim he would simply marry someone else, and then she would never see Molly again. She was lucky he had offered her a compromise, although why he had done so was anyone’s guess. Stripped down, it was nothing more than blackmail, and yet she had no choice but to agree to the terms. What else could she do? Other women before her had made sacrifices for those they loved. She would do the same.
Sabrina bit her lip as she gently tucked Molly back into the pram. If Mario thought she would be shunted aside some time in the future, he had better rethink his plans. She wasn’t going to desert little Molly, no matter what the cost to her personally.
Mario escorted Sabrina out past the other mourners, one or two of them stopping to look in on the sleeping baby, murmuring their condolences; others, like Ingrid and Stanley Knowles, carried on with their drinking and chatting as if they were at a garden party.
Once Molly was safely strapped into the baby carrier in her car, Sabrina turned to look at Mario. ‘Do you have my address?’ she asked.
‘I looked it up in the phone book,’ he said. ‘I will be round about eight or so.’
Sabrina’s gaze flicked back to the house, her brow pleating with worry. ‘What if Ingrid comes round before then?’ she asked, swinging her gaze back to Mario. ‘She’s come round each day since Social Services released Molly into my care. The last time she was quite abusive. It was embarrassing for me, not to mention for the neighbours, most of whom are elderly. I was sure someone was going to call the police. I considered doing it myself, except I didn’t want the press to get wind of it.’
He drummed his fingers on the roof of her rusty car for a moment. ‘Then it will be best if you and Molly are not there if she should take it upon herself to drop round.’
Sabrina felt another frown pull at her brow. ‘But where will we be?’
‘You will be at my hotel with me,’ he said.
‘I-is that such a good idea?’ she said, her frown deepening, her heart stuttering in panic. ‘I mean…will there be room for us?’
The look in his eyes was inscrutable, but there was a hint of amusement lurking around his mouth. ‘Molly can sleep in her pram, and you can sleep in my bed.’
Sabrina’s eyes widened, her heart giving that annoying little extra beat again. ‘Are you by any chance going to be there too?’ she asked with an attempt at an arch look.
‘In my bed, do you mean?’
