Читать книгу The Helen Bianchin And The Regency Scoundrels And Scandals Collections - Louise Allen - Страница 82

DESPITE EVERY EFFORT to minimise the abduction attempt on Nicki, it still made the news, appearing on television stations and in the newspapers.

Marcello refused all interviews, requesting the media and public respect their privacy. He employed guards to ensure no media representative intruded into the grounds of his mansion, and Shannay kept Nicki indoors away from the zoom lenses of persistent cameramen well-known to use devious means in order to gain the slightest advantage.

Staff were reminded of their signed confidentiality agreement, and Marcello placed Sandro in a position of power in the city office while he worked from home.

Nicki’s well-being was a prime focus, and Shannay rarely let her out of her sight. Thanks to Carlo’s handling of the abduction attempt itself, his protective reassurance during their captivity in the van and counselling, Nicki appeared to be dealing quite well with the trauma.

Yet it became apparent the media refused to give up, and although they didn’t get past the guards it was impossible to ignore reflected sunlight bouncing off the poised camera lenses, and a helicopter bearing a TV-station logo passed overhead at least three times a day in the hope of a photo scoop.

For Shannay, it was the last straw, and on the third day she drew Marcello aside soon after Nicki had settled to sleep.

‘We need to talk.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘Let’s take it in the bedroom, shall we?’

Not the bedroom. It held too many memories, and she needed to be strong. ‘I’d prefer the office.’

He regarded her carefully, examining her features and noting the darkness apparent in her beautiful eyes, the exigent determination, and prepared to do civilised battle.

With a smooth movement he indicated the direction of the office. ‘By all means.’

On reaching his sanctum, he closed the door behind them and indicated a comfortable leather chair. ‘Take a seat.’

And have him tower over her? ‘I’d prefer to stand.’

Marcello crossed the room, leant one hip against the executive desk and held her faintly defiant gaze.

‘There is something you want to discuss?’

His voice was mild, but there was a studied stillness about him that reminded her of an indolent predator.

Don’t falter. Don’t allow him to see the slightest chink in your resolve. ‘I’m taking Nicki home to Perth.’ There, she’d stated her intention. ‘I can book a commercial flight, or ask you to organise your private jet.’

He didn’t protest, merely stated fact. ‘Your home is here.’

Shannay gave a slight shake of her head. ‘We have an arrangement, and you gave me your word,’ she reminded, holding his steady gaze. ‘I insist you honour it.’

‘Circumstances have changed.’

Her chin tilted. ‘Because you persuaded me to have sex with you?’

Marcello was silent for a few measurable seconds, then one eyebrow arched in deliberate query. ‘Just … sex. Is that what you call what we share?’

‘We scratched a mutual itch.’ Liar. It was more than that. Much more.

She stood immobile beneath his deliberate appraisal, and she held his gaze as if her life depended on it.

‘There’s nothing I can say or do that will change your mind?’

Assure your love for me never died. That love is the reason you dragged Nicki and me back to Madrid … not a need to avenge the past.

But he remained silent. And she didn’t have the courage to lay bare her emotions.

‘No.’ It was the only word she could manage without risking an inability to control the tremble in her voice.

‘You intend to return to Madrid … when?’

This was the hardest thing she’d ever had to do. ‘I’ll accompany Nicki when she travels to visit with you.’ And die a little every time, she added silently.

‘That’s your final word?’

She couldn’t afford to back down, even though the decision was killing her.

Did he know? Or even guess?

Maybe he didn’t even care. Sex was … well, sex. And for a man, without love to make it special, almost any woman would do. And any number of women would line up hoping to tempt him into their bed the instant news filtered out his wife had left him … again.

‘Yes.’ A determined if stoic confirmation.

She searched his features for the slightest sign her decision affected him … and failed to detect a thing.

When she thought of their lovemaking … and it was lovemaking, she wanted to burst into ignominious tears that he could brush it aside so easily.

‘When do you plan to leave?’

He wasn’t going to argue? Attempt to persuade her to stay?

Yet what had she expected? For him to break down and beg?

That wasn’t his style.

‘As soon as possible.’

He didn’t move. He merely inclined his head. ‘I’ll instruct my pilot to have the jet ready tomorrow.’

‘Thank you.’

She had to get out of here, away from him, before she broke down, and she turned towards the door.

‘What do you plan on telling our daughter?’

It took tremendous effort to look back at him. ‘The truth.’

With that she opened the door, passed through the aperture, then quietly closed the door behind her.

A week later Shannay conceded life had begun to slip into its former pattern.

The apartment was aired, cleaned, vacuumed and polished. The pantry, refrigerator and freezer stocked.

Anna appeared delighted to resume evening duties as Nicki’s carer, and John was pleased to have her start back at the pharmacy.

She should be happy, content, relieved to have left a highly fraught situation behind.

It was, she silently assured, resolved. As originally intended. Hadn’t she worked hard to hammer out a satisfactory custody arrangement suitable to Nicki’s needs?

Her daughter appeared relatively relaxed, and was looking forward to resuming kindergarten, meeting up with her friends.

Each evening, at the same time, Marcello rang to speak to his daughter and bid her ‘goodnight’.

Calls which Nicki eagerly anticipated and received with excited fervour.

The fact he rarely offered more than a restrained greeting to Shannay was immaterial … yet it hurt terribly.

Although what did she expect? Pleasant conversation?

How could he just … switch off, like that?

She shouldn’t feel crushed, but she did. It affected her sleep and left her hollow-eyed and aching.

If she didn’t soon pull herself together, she’d become a complete and utter emotional mess.

The second week in, she found it difficult to readjust to working the five-to-midnight shift, and John’s voiced concern began to rankle.

‘I’m fine,’ she assured him, and refused to elaborate on the Madrid sojourn.

At the end of the second week confirmation her decree nisi had been granted arrived in the mail from her lawyer.

The decree absolute would follow in approximately one month.

It should have been good news, except it sent her into the depths of despair.

The third week she developed a stomach bug … a persistent one which showed no inclination to subside.

Combined with unaccustomed tiredness and mood swings, the obvious possible reason sent alarm bells skyrocketing through the stratosphere. Consternation provided the need for a pregnancy test, the result of which confirmed her worst fears.

Not so inconceivable when she hadn’t used any form of contraceptive following Nicki’s birth … nor had Marcello favoured protection.

Fool. What had she been thinking?

Worse, what had he?

Although, on reflection, thinking hadn’t even entered the equation!

A fraught twenty-four hours later she redid the pregnancy test, only to have it show the same result.

Ohmigod, no. The silent scream seemed to echo inside her brain as she processed the implications in a stark replay.

OK, think, she bade shakily, and groaned out loud when she did the calculations and possible became probable, of which each passing day provided its own confirmation.

Then came the phone call on a week night when she’d cried off work, where Nicki unwittingly informed Marcello “Mummy is sick”, and the words were out in spite of Shannay frantically shaking her head.

Seconds later Nicki held out the receiver. ‘Daddy wants to talk to you.’

Well, I don’t want to talk to him. ‘Not now, darling, I’m busy.’

Nicki’s eyes rounded in surprise, for Shannay was only folding clothes, and Marcello must have heard, for his voice came clearly through the mouthpiece.

‘Take the phone, Shannay.’

She swore softly, and saw her daughter’s eyes dilate even further, then she collected the receiver and prepared to play polite.

‘Marcello.’

‘Nicki said you’re unwell.’

Whatever happened to hello? She kept her voice even. ‘I’m fine.’

‘Have you seen a doctor?’

‘I’m a pharmacist, remember? I do have a reasonable knowledge of ailments and appropriate medications.’

‘Are you pregnant?’

The query came out of left field, and surprised her … although, on reflection, she had to wonder why.

‘I’m fine,’ Shannay reiterated, refusing to fabricate or confirm, then she handed the receiver back to Nicki and exited the room on the pretext of delivering a small stack of folded clothes to the bedroom.

She could hear Nicki’s voice in the background, and she moved into the bathroom and began running Nicki’s bath.

Employing delaying tactics, she rearranged items on the marble-topped vanity until Nicki entered the bathroom.

‘Why didn’t you want to talk to Daddy?’

‘We talk via email,’ she explained carefully as she helped undress her daughter. Brief sentences conveying updates on Nicki.

It took a few days to gather the courage to arrange an appointment with an obstetrician, and she didn’t know whether to smile or cry following his examination.

‘Congratulations, my dear. You’re about halfway through your first trimester.’

The remainder of the day passed in a daze, and she settled Nicki with Anna, then drove to the pharmacy, praying that if they weren’t busy she might be able to persuade John to let her finish early.

Shortly after nine she was on the point of considering a tea-break when the electronic buzzer sounded as someone entered the pharmacy.

Shannay glanced up towards the entrance with a ready smile in place … and froze. For walking towards her was the last person she expected to see.

The tall, broad-shouldered male frame was achingly familiar.

Attired in black jeans, a white collarless shirt undone at the neck and a butter-soft black leather collarless jacket, Marcello bore a distinct resemblance to a dark warrior.

Why was he here … and why now?

All her fine body hairs lifted in sensory recognition, and there was nothing she could do to prevent the surge of blood pulsing through her veins.

It was a magnetic reaction and, try as she might, she was unable to prevent the way she was drawn to him.

His eyes captured and held her own, his features sculptured into almost savage lines, his sensual mouth bracketed by slashing grooves.

He looked dangerous, his eyes almost obsidian in their darkness as he drew close.

Shannay’s emotional heart went into meltdown, rendering her almost boneless as she experienced a mix of fear and elation, hope and dismay.

He didn’t glance towards John when he spoke, yet the words were for him alone.

‘My wife is ceasing work, as of now.’

It wasn’t a question, merely a statement of his intent.

Shannay looked at him in shocked surprise. ‘You can’t just walk in here and—’

‘You’re leaving.’

‘The hell I am.’

‘You can walk, or be carried. It’s immaterial.’

John started forward. ‘Now look here—’

Marcello speared him with a forbidding glance. ‘I understand you regard Shannay as a friend. But this is between me and my wife.’ He shifted his attention back to Shannay. ‘I suggest you collect your keys.’

‘No.’ The next instant she gave a startled yelp as he reached forward and lifted her over one shoulder, then he indicated the room at the rear of the pharmacy. ‘Shannay’s belongings are there?’

What was it between men? Silent signals, male recognition? Whatever, she became aware John retrieved her bag and passed it into Marcello’s possession.

‘Thank you.’ He turned towards the door. ‘We’ll be in touch.’ Then he walked calmly outside, paused beside a limousine, murmured something to the driver, then bundled her into the rear seat.

‘What in hell do you think you’re doing?’ Her voice held restrained fury as he leant across and fitted her safety belt before tending to his own.

‘Taking you to a hotel.’

Her face lit with scandalised disbelief. ‘No, you’re not!’ She leaned forward. ‘Driver, take me to Applecross.’ She supplied the street address, and caught a glimpse of familiar features in the rear-vision mirror and was unable to hide her disbelief. ‘Carlo?’

‘I’m sorry. I have orders.’

Shannay turned towards Marcello and lashed out at him with her hand, uncaring where it landed … as long as it did.

Except he caught it mid-flight, and pressed their joined hands down to his side.

‘Nicki is asleep, Anna is happy to stay with her overnight, and there’s a bag containing a change of clothes in the boot.’

He’d already been to the apartment?

‘Why?’

‘I imagine it’s self-explanatory,’ Marcello drawled, and she curled her fingers into his, then dug her nails in hard.

‘You can’t do this.’

She caught a flash of white teeth as he smiled in the dim light. ‘So—bite me.’

She wanted to, badly. And she would, the instant they were alone. Meantime she refused to speak to him, or even look at him during the drive into the city.

Carlo pulled into the entrance of one of the city’s luxurious hotels, popped the boot, retrieved two overnight bags and handed them to the hovering concierge.

‘I’ll call you in the morning,’ Marcello indicated as Carlo opened the rear passenger door for Shannay to alight.

For a moment she considered refusing to budge, except making a fuss would gain nothing at all.

‘I hate you for this.’ Her voice was little more than a sibilant whisper as he led her through the foyer to a bank of lifts.

‘Let go my hand,’ Shannay demanded tightly when they alighted on a high floor.

‘Soon.’

He was taller, and indisputably faster on his feet … so where did he think she’d escape to? She threw him a dark look and stood in mutinous silence as he inserted the card, freed the lock, then drew her inside.

With economical movements he deposited both bags, removed the do not disturb tag and hung it outside the door, then closed the door and slid home the safety chain.

‘You’d better have a good reason for behaving like a …’ Words temporarily failed her. ‘Barbaric beast,’ she added with considerable heat.

He was too controlled, his eyes too impossibly dark, except she was too angry to heed their caution.

‘Why don’t you sit down?’

‘I don’t need to sit.’

Marcello shrugged out of his leather jacket and threw it over the back of a nearby chair.

‘A drink? A cup of tea, perhaps?’

He was being too polite, and she sent him a venomous glare. ‘Cut to the chase, why don’t you?’

‘Then you can leave?’ His drawling voice resembled pure silk being razzed by a sharp steel blade. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘What is this?’ Her dark eyes flashed with latent fire. ‘A duel to the death?’

He smiled, although there was a distinct lack of humour apparent. ‘You possess a fanciful imagination.’

Her chin lifted in open defiance. ‘You’re holding me here against my will.’

Marcello regarded her steadily, his gaze that of a jungle animal watching its prey. ‘Are you pregnant with my child?’

Shannay was suddenly speechless, and it took several seconds before she found her voice. ‘You flew from Madrid to ask that of me?’

‘If you recall,’ he drawled with silky indolence, ‘you refused to give me an answer on the phone.’

Angry beyond belief, she searched for words, any words. ‘You’re unbelievable.’

‘You’re evading the question.’ His voice assumed the quality of silk, and her features became waxen-pale.

‘What if I say no?’

‘It won’t make the slightest difference.’

‘To what?’ she demanded, almost at the end of her tether.

‘How this plays out.’

So this was it … crunch time.

‘In a matter of weeks the divorce will be finalised.’

‘No, it won’t. I’ve had my lawyer notify yours of our reconciliation,’ Marcello informed and obtained a degree of satisfaction at her shocked expression. ‘Copies of the announcement in the Spanish media provided sufficient proof.’

‘But that was merely a sham,’ Shannay protested, eyes wide with dismay as she searched frantically for the exact words quoted … hadn’t Marcello simply acceded “anything is possible”? How could that be construed to be a positive confirmation?

She watched with startled surprise as he reached for his overnight bag, extracted a slim packet, opened the flap and handed the contents to her.

‘I’d like you to look at these.’

Shannay told herself she wasn’t interested, but the coloured photograph of a house caught her attention, and she felt herself drawn to it, unable to ignore her admiration for the beautiful, sprawling two-storeyed mansion set in spacious grounds overlooking what appeared to be a lake.

Underneath the photograph was another, even more magnificent, and there was a third with views out over the ocean.

Yet it was the first photograph she returned to, and she glanced up at him with open curiosity.

‘Why are you showing me these?’

‘The first house is at Peppermint Grove, the remaining two at Cottesloe and Cottesloe Beach respectively.’

Expensive real estate. Very expensive real estate, she perceived.

‘We have an appointment to inspect them tomorrow.’

A soundless gasp escaped her lips. ‘Excuse me?’

‘You heard.’

She had, but the implication of them failed to compute. Why would he be interested in Perth real estate?

He watched her conflicting emotions and barely restrained himself from hauling her into his arms.

The past few weeks had been hell. He’d eaten at his desk, barely slept and literally turned his life upside down as he had liaised with Perth real-estate agents, selected three of the most suitable properties after viewing them via an internet visual tour, then he’d flown into Perth yesterday, consulted with lawyers, accountants, viewed the three properties and a few more purported to be worthy of inspection, organised Nicki’s care with Anna … and had Carlo drive him to collect the reason for all this.

Shannay.

‘We can do this by arguing half the night away,’ Marcello began with deliberate patience. ‘Or you can listen until I’m done.’

She looked at him, really looked at him, and saw the fine lines of tiredness fan out from each corner of his eyes, the faint shadowy smudges evident.

Heaven knew she was weary as pregnancy took hold of her body and drained some of her energy to nurture the tiny foetus developing inside her womb.

Together, what hope did they have?

Yet there was an instinctive feeling … some deep intrinsic knowledge hovering just beneath the surface.

His presence here … dared she even hope, let alone think what it might mean?

It was crazy, but the stress and tension that had consumed her for the past few weeks began to ebb, as if her subconscious recognised something she had yet to acknowledge.

Dared not envisage in case she might have it wrong.

‘You have my heart, querida.’

For a few seconds she almost forgot to breathe.

‘Always,’ Marcello added gently. ‘There has never been anyone else since the day I met you.’

She opened her mouth, only to close it again as he held up a hand.

‘Please … hear me out. There are words I need to say. Not all of them good.’

She had nothing to lose. Absolutely nothing, and she simply inclined her head.

‘Penè made things difficult for you, conspiring initially with Estella to cause trouble.’

Wasn’t that the truth!

‘I thought we could get beyond the resulting fracas, but you were adamant our marriage was doomed.’

‘I left, because to remain would have been impossible.’

‘I was angry,’ Marcello continued. ‘You ignored my phone calls and refused to respond to every one of my messages. Within a year Ramon developed pneumonia and suffered a heart attack. Soon after he was diagnosed with cancer, and it was necessary for me to take control.’

Marcello’s responsibility would have been enormous. Remorse and a degree of guilt sat uncomfortably on her shoulders.

Timing, distance, misunderstanding. Each rational in hindsight, Shannay admitted.

‘With your refusal to acknowledge any form of contact, I had little recourse but to accept you intended to make a life on your own.’ He paused, and a muscle tensed along the edge of his jaw. ‘Until fate played a hand with Sandro and Luisa’s impromptu visit to Perth, their sighting of you at a local carnival and the discovery you had a child. Indisputably my child.’

Shannay relived that moment as if it were yesterday. ‘I vowed revenge. Contriving to use everything in my power to have you revisit Madrid … and ultimately seduce you. To take hold of your emotions and crush them to dust beneath my feet.’

The knowledge sent pain arrowing through her body, and his voice softened as he glimpsed the shadows evident in her eyes.

‘Except I couldn’t do it. The woman I’d turned you into in my mind didn’t exist. The reality was the young woman I fell in love with, the beautiful girl with integrity and a loving heart who fought against me and her own emotions … as I struggled to deal with my own.’

His mouth twisted with deliberate cynicism. ‘Ironic, isn’t it? When it came to revenge … I lost. As Ramon warned I would.’

Her eyes sharpened. ‘Ramon?’

‘My grandfather saw more than anyone gave him credit for. He’d glimpsed what was in your heart, and knew my own.’

What came next was painful. ‘Nicki’s abduction became the catalyst. I only had myself to offer in a bid to keep you with me.’ He lifted a hand and let it fall to his side. ‘And it wasn’t enough.’

In his eyes, he’d failed yet again, and her sense of remorse returned.

‘I didn’t want Nicki to grow up shadowed by bodyguards, forever in fear of another abduction attempt.’

‘Nor is it my choice,’ he agreed quietly. ‘Once is one time too many. Which brings me to my decision to relocate here.’

Shannay looked at him in disbelief. ‘Perth? How can you—’

‘Easily. Sandro is now in control of the Madrid office. I’ve already signed a lease on suitable office accommodation in the city, and tomorrow we look at these houses.’

It was almost too much for her to take in. Yet any doubt fled as he took both her hands in his and lifted them to his lips.

‘I love you,’ he vowed gently. ‘Stay with me, live with me. Let me love you, mi mujer, for the rest of my days. Por siempre.’

Forever.

They were only words, but they came from the heart, his soul … and were all she’d ever needed to hear.

Shannay withdrew her hands and cradled his face. Then she reached up, angled her mouth to his own and bestowed a lingering kiss.

‘Yes,’ she answered simply, and felt the tension ease from his body as he pulled her in close, then his mouth captured hers in a hungry, acutely sensual possession lasting long before he gradually eased to brush her swollen lips with his own, tracing their outline with a feather-light touch before lifting his head.

‘I think this calls for a celebration.’

Marcello crossed to the phone and ordered a bottle of exceedingly expensive French champagne be sent up from the bar, and when it was delivered he eased off the cork and poured the sparkling, light golden liquid into two flutes and handed her one.

‘To us.’

She lifted it and touched the rim to his own. Only to have her eyes widen in sudden consternation.

‘What is it?’

‘I—’ there was never going to be a better time to tell him ‘—shouldn’t have more than a sip of this,’ she offered with obvious reluctance, and saw his eyes sharpen, then assume a lazy gleam.

‘Because?’ Marcello prompted gently, and glimpsed a mischievous smile teasing the corners of that lush mouth.

‘It has to do with my being in the first trimester.’

She watched his expression change, and could only wonder at the joy, the love and an entire gamut of emotions flooding his features.

His eyes, she could die and go to heaven just on the look exposed there.

For her. Only her.

He laid the palm of one hand to her waist and splayed his fingers over her stomach.

‘You don’t mind?’

How could she mind?

She’d been fiercely protective of Nicki before and after she was born. Uncaring she’d chosen single motherhood over the alternative.

This time Marcello would be with her every step of the way.

‘I’m delighted,’ she assured gently.

‘You gift me everything I could ever want, amada. All I need.’

The champagne went flat, which was total sacrilege.

Not that it mattered in the slightest, for there were more important matters to be taken care of.

Such as the leisurely removal of clothes, long, lingering kisses … and gentle tactile lovemaking far into the night.