Sweet Revenge: The Martinez Marriage Revenge / The Italian Billionaire's Ruthless Revenge / The Kouros Marriage Revenge. JACQUELINE BAIRD
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‘I’d like to take Nicki into the city tomorrow afternoon,’ Shannay declared as she poured coffee, and made tea for herself.
‘A shop-till-you-drop mission?’
She shook her head. ‘Some small gifts to take home for a few of her friends. Something special for Anna.’
‘On the condition both Carlo and I accompany you.’
‘We could take the metro.’
‘No.’
‘A limousine and a bodyguard?’ she queried with intentional mockery, and met his studied gaze.
‘A necessary precaution.’
The Martinez billions were tied up in numerous corporations throughout the world. It was a given Marcello’s personal fortune had escalated dramatically over the past four years.
So many assets. Yet only a few knew the extent of the Martinez benevolence to various charities, the hospitals they’d funded in third world countries.
It made the family a target. At risk from the insurgents who hated wealth and all it represented. The beautiful people who appeared to have everything while the less fortunate lived in tenements and fought for food.
During the two years of her marriage she’d given tirelessly of her time to help Penè organise events for charity, frequently suffering the older woman’s acerbic tongue and endless criticism as they worked together.
Possibly Ramon’s daughter saw it as a necessity to figuratively strengthen the spine of her nephew’s wife, and her manner had achieved that, not without some resentment and restrained anger on Shannay’s part at the time.
‘If you insist,’ Shannay conceded, aware that to argue with him over the protection issue was a waste of time. ‘On the condition you allow me to judge what purchases are bought. I won’t have Nicki acquire an inflated sense of her own importance and become a spoilt little madam.’
Marcello inclined his head. ‘We’ll drive into the city after visiting with Ramon.’
‘Thank you.’
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