Bound By The Marcolini Diamonds. Melanie Milburne
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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?’
She nodded, hastily disguising a nervous swallow.
‘Only if I am invited,’ he said with a sexy slant of his mouth.
Sabrina pulled her own mouth into a prim line. ‘That is not going to happen.’
‘No, of course not,’ he said as his smile turned to a sneer. ‘You have a taste for the forbidden, do you not? The married man is more your style.’
‘I can assure you that all of your married friends will be quite safe from me,’ she said with a lift of her chin.
He took her chin between his finger and thumb, his eyes boring into hers. ‘I perhaps should remind you at this point of the behaviour I expect from you during the period of our marriage,’ he said.
Sabrina considered pulling out of his hold, but, though it was firm enough to make her think twice, it was somehow gentle enough for her not to even want to try. She felt the slow but steady burn of his touch, the heat of him going to her core where a cauldron of need was still on the boil from the last time he had come this close. She ran the tip of her tongue over her lips, her stomach giving a little kick of awareness when he brushed the pad of his thumb over where her tongue had just been. It was like negative meeting positive, fire meeting fuel, flame meeting tinder. She felt her whole body respond; her breasts peaked, her inner thighs trembled and her heart didn’t just pick up its pace, it all-out sprinted. ‘I—I’m not sure what you expect me to do,’ she said, trying to steady her out-of-control breathing. ‘It’s not as if we are, er, in love or anything—and for that matter I am not prepared to pretend we are.’
His eyes continued to hold hers. ‘I am glad you mentioned that particular four-letter word,’ he said. ‘You are more than welcome in my bed, but do not get any ideas about making this arrangement more permanent. I know how a woman’s mind works, so any vows of love from you will be disregarded henceforth.’
Sabrina was taken aback by his words. She bristled at his arrogant assumption that she would fall in love with him so readily or, even more insulting, pretend to do so for personal gain. It just went to show the sort of women he sought to warm his bed. He wanted shallow and short term, not deep, caring and committed. ‘I could never love someone like you,’ she threw back. ‘You are the very opposite of what I want in a partner.’
He smiled that mocking smile again. ‘Is that so?’
She pulled her shoulders back, her eyes flashing their dislike of him. ‘You are selfish, for one thing,’ she said. ‘And ruthless, and…and…’ She hunted for some other words to describe him, but it totally confounded her that all she could think of was how good he was with Molly. For a playboy he certainly was astonishingly at ease around a tiny baby. He handled Molly with care and confidence. He had been the same at the christening, kissing her tiny nose and each of her miniscule fingertips one by one, his normally cynical and hard, black-brown eyes all but melting.
‘But I am rich,’ he said, still smiling. ‘That surely makes up for what else I lack, sì?”
‘You do not have enough money to tempt me,’ Sabrina said with a toss of her head.
‘We will see,’ he said, and opened the passenger door.
She frowned at him again. ‘What are you doing?’
‘I am holding the door open for you.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Yes, I can see that, but why? I can’t drive it from this side, in case you haven’t noticed.’
‘I will drive,’ he said. ‘You can tell me where to go.’
‘That will be the easy part,’ she said with a pert look. ‘Go to hell.’
His dark eyes glinted with amusement. ‘Not unless I get to take you with me,’ he said. ‘I have a feeling we could really ramp up the heat down there with just a kiss or two, let alone the full works.’
Sabrina pressed her lips into a flat line of disdain. ‘You don’t get to sample the goods, Mario, they’re not on offer.’ Not any more, she mentally tacked on, not entirely sure if it was a promise or a prayer for help in resisting temptation.
‘I know what you are doing, Sabrina,’ he said. ‘You have been doing it from the first moment we met. You like to slowly reel a man in, do you not? That is your modus operandi, no? Little by little you up the ante until he finally capitulates.’
She took a step backwards. ‘I am doing no such thing.’
He leaned closer, capturing her chin again, his eyes locking on hers. ‘I will take your slim little body any time you like,’ he said in a low, spine-tingling drawl. ‘Any time, any place, any position. You just have to say the word. Just like the last time.’