Sweet Revenge: The Martinez Marriage Revenge / The Italian Billionaire's Ruthless Revenge / The Kouros Marriage Revenge. JACQUELINE BAIRD
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give me your word you’ll allow me to decide when Nicki’s visits should cease?’
‘Without question.’ He sank further back in his chair and raised his hands to cup his nape. ‘The purported reconciliation? You’ll agree to the pretence for Ramon’s sake?’
Why did she harbour the feeling she was being led deeper into deception with every passing day?
She wanted no part of it.
Yet it seemed so little to do to ease an elderly man’s mind. To let him believe … what? That his beloved eldest grandson had reconciled with his wife? Spend time with his only great-grandchild?
Couldn’t she gift Ramon that much?
‘Aren’t you forgetting something? Someone?’ Shannay asked at last.
Marcello didn’t pretend to misunderstand.
‘Nicki will be told precisely who I am before we visit Ramon.’
‘Which will be when?’
He checked his watch. ‘At eleven.’
Just over an hour? ‘Excuse me?’
‘You heard.’
Without thought she reached for a paperweight and threw it at him.
Only to miss, as he fielded it in one hand.
For a moment the air was electric, stark and momentous in its silence, and her eyes darkened with horrified disbelief as Marcello placed the glass weight onto the desk, then rose slowly to his feet.
She couldn’t move, her feet seemingly cemented to the floor as he crossed to her side.
There wasn’t a word she could utter, for her voice couldn’t pierce the lump that had risen in her throat, and she stood powerless as he captured her chin.
His eyes were dark, almost black with forbidding anger, and his voice emerged in husky warning.
‘Play with fire, querida, and you risk getting burned.’
He ran a finger along the edge of her jaw, almost caressing its shape, and a shiver slithered through her body.
‘So much emotion,’ Marcello opined silkily. ‘Why is that, do you suppose?’
‘Because I hate you.’
‘Better hate than indifference.’
His fingers curled over her chin as he stroked a thumb over her lower lip … felt it tremble beneath his touch, and offered a faint smile.
‘Shall I put it to the test?’ He traced the column of her throat with the tip of one finger, rested briefly in the hollow between her breasts, then slid to cup one soft mound and brush its peak with a provocative sweep of his thumb.
She felt it swell and harden beneath his touch, and hated her traitorous reaction.
‘Let me go.’
His voice lowered to an indolent purr. ‘But we’re not yet done.’
His mouth brushed hers in a teasing tracery that almost made her sway, and she stifled a faint groan as he pulled her lower lip between his teeth.
She was hardly aware of the fingers of one hand working the snap at her waist, or the subtle slide of the zip fastening … until she felt his palm against the bare skin of her stomach.
Then it was too late and her startled protest became lost in the way he filled her mouth, and she felt her body jerk spasmodically as his fingers slid through the soft curling hair at the junction of her thighs, then sought and found the moist warmth at her feminine core.
With unerring accuracy he stroked the swollen clitoris and watched the way her eyes glazed as sensation arced through her in an encompassing wave. One which swelled again and again with every tantalising stroke, and he absorbed her cry as he used his fingers in a simulated thrust that sent her high.
He wanted more, much more, and the temptation to take her here, now, was an almost unbearable hunger.
On the desk, the floor, straddling him on the chair, pushed against the wall.
The fact he could acted as a deterrent, and he simply held her, softening the touch of his mouth against her own until the shudders raking her slender form slowed and subsided.
With care he withdrew his hand, closed the zip fastening on her jeans and pressed the snap.
The action brought her back to her senses, and she pushed away from him, unable to believe she’d allowed what had just happened … to happen.
How could she have relaxed her guard and become so seduced by his touch … dear heaven, his intrusion?
She didn’t want to look at him. Couldn’t bear to see the satisfaction evident in his eyes, or his pleasure at her downfall.
For an age neither of them spoke, and the only audible sound in the room was the slightly uneven sound of her breathing.
‘That was despicable,’ Shannay managed, hating him so much she almost shook with it. She lifted a hand and wiped the back of it across her mouth in an attempt to dispense the taste of him.
And glimpsed the compelling sensuality apparent before he masked his expression.
‘But … enlightening, wouldn’t you agree?’
‘You’re keeping score?’ she countered with a tinge of bitterness, and saw his expression harden.
‘Where is Nicki?’
She took a deep breath and released it slowly. ‘In the kitchen with Maria making biscuits.’
‘Then let’s go get her.’
She looked at him sharply. ‘Now?’
Get a grip, why don’t you?
How, when her emotions were in turmoil and her body had yet to recover? Even thinking about his touch was enough to cause tiny spasms in the most sensitive part of her anatomy.
‘We’ll tell her together.’
With an effort she pulled herself together. ‘I should be the one—’
‘She deserves to have both her parents present.’
Apprehension didn’t cover it as they collected Nicki and took her upstairs, and as they neared her room Shannay began doing deals with the deity.
This was major. Major, she reiterated silently as Marcello placed Nicki on her bed, and hunkered down to her eye level.
He kept the telling simple. So very simple, it was easy to follow his lead. And Nicki’s reaction became a timeless moment, one that caught the heartstrings and plucked the emotional depths as she stood and unhesitatingly wrapped her arms around Marcello’s neck.
His eyes burned fiercely over Nicki’s head as he hugged her close, and Shannay had to blink hard to prevent the shimmer of tears spilling down her cheeks.
Father and child together.
Nicki’s delight and wholehearted acceptance, whose childish words said it all. ‘You’re my daddy.’
It was a beginning, Shannay acknowledged, for Nicki was a perceptive child for her age and eventually there would be questions.
But for now, one of the most important hurdles had been conquered.
Marcello pressed a light kiss to his daughter’s temple. ‘Now we will all get ready to go visit with your bisabuelo, Ramon.’
He rested a hand briefly on Shannay’s shoulder. ‘Fifteen minutes. I’ll wait for you downstairs.’
Together they chose Nicki’s prettiest dress, and with her hair neatly caught together she followed Shannay into her room as Shannay selected a slim-fitting dress in jade linen, attached a belt, then tended to