Sweet Revenge. Эбби Грин
Читать онлайн книгу.
route back to her apartment. Only the knowledge Marcello would seek her out and make the situation incredibly more difficult than it already was ensured she drove to the restaurant.
Taking a circuitous route was a minor act of defiance.
Did he know? Possibly. Although he gave no indication as she effected an introduction … and watched dry-mouthed as Marcello hunkered down to Nicki’s eye level.
Shannay stood tense and incredibly protective … anxious to the point of paranoia over her daughter’s reaction to the man who posed such a potent threat to their existence.
Quite what she expected, she wasn’t sure.
She was intently aware of Marcello, but it was Nicki who held her undivided attention.
Outgoing, polite and friendly, Nicki regarded Marcello with wide-eyed unblinking solemnity. Weighing him up with the innocence of youth, reserving judgement until instinct dismissed an initial wariness and a smile curved her mouth.
‘Hello. I’m Nicki.’ Unbidden, a small hand extended in formal greeting, and with great care Marcello enfolded it within his own.
Hearts didn’t melt, stomachs didn’t really perform somersaults … but it sure felt like hers did both as conflicting emotions took hold with unsettling reality.
Father and child.
There was a part of her that wanted to encapsulate the moment for safe-keeping … for Nicki, she assured herself silently.
The venue proved eminently suitable, the food pleasantly presented and palatable. Not, Shannay mused, what her estranged husband was used to, but perfect for a young child.
It was difficult to summon light laughter and appear relaxed and at ease, when inside she’d have given anything for Marcello to be anywhere but here.
Maintaining the pretence of friendship proved to be a strain, and she battled emotional turmoil at the developing rapport between father and child.
Why shouldn’t Nicki be entranced by the man her mother had introduced as friend? The mere appellation sanctioned approval, and heaven knew Marcello possessed innate charm when he chose to employ it.
And he did, with an ease Shannay could only reluctantly admire, whilst silently hating him for capturing her daughter’s innocent heart.
‘We’re going to stop and feed the ducks on the way home,’ Nicki announced as Marcello took care of the bill.
Shannay’s offer to contribute her share merely incurred a telling glance, and she accepted his refusal with grace.
‘That sounds like fun,’ Marcello said gently, and Nicki laughed with delight.
‘You can come, too, if you like.’
Please don’t, Shannay silently begged. Lunch was enough. If she had to spend any more time in his company, it would be way too much.
He pocketed his wallet and gave Nicki his whole attention. ‘I have another appointment this afternoon. But I’d like to watch you feed the ducks another day.’
‘Tomorrow?’
Marcello spared Shannay a glance. ‘If it’s all right with your mother?’
Thanks for putting me in such an invidious position! A refusal would be petty, and disappoint her daughter. Besides, she was damned if she’d give Marcello the satisfaction.
She summoned a smiling assent. ‘Tomorrow’s fine.’ A short sojourn, then she’d plead the need to take Nicki home.
‘Perhaps we could share a picnic lunch.’
Nicki clapped her hands together in delight. ‘I love picnics.’
If looks could kill, Marcello mused, he’d be dead. Although he had to concede Shannay covered it well. As to his daughter—his, without a shred of doubt—he was hard-pressed not to scoop her into his arms.
He’d expected to feel a connection, even a degree of affection. But this deep encompassing bond surprised him completely.
Marcello copied Shannay’s actions and rose to his feet. His gaze skimmed her averted features and settled on bright, innocent brown eyes. ‘We have a date.’
‘A date,’ Nicki repeated as she reached for her mother’s hand, unaware of the tension simmering between the two adults.
OK, so you’re in the minority here, Shannay conceded silently, and wanted to cry foul. It wasn’t fair of Marcello to manipulate a child.
But then Marcello was ruthless when in pursuit of what he wanted … and he wanted Nicki.
They exited the restaurant and crossed to the adjoining car park.
‘Thank you for lunch.’ She could do polite, as an essential example in good manners. She caught the faint gleam apparent in his eyes, and determinedly ignored it.
He extracted a slim envelope from his suit-jacket pocket and handed it to her. ‘The permission form. Sign and return it to me tomorrow.’
The DNA paternity test.
She could stall him.
How long? A few days … a week?
If she refused and he was forced to travel the legal route …
‘Don’t,’ Marcello cautioned quietly.
How was it possible for one small word to hold such a wealth of meaning?
Supremely conscious of Nicki’s interested attention, she slid the envelope into her bag, proffered a superficial smile and led Nicki to the car, aware of his presence as she settled her daughter safely in the rear seat.
‘See you tomorrow,’ Nicki bade as Marcello opened the door to allow Shannay to slide in behind the wheel.
His mouth parted in a warm smile that skimmed lightly over Nicki’s trusting features and settled briefly on her own.
For a few interminable seconds she was caught in the thrall of remembered chemistry. Jolted by the sensuality that coursed through her veins, unbidden, electric … and definitely unwanted.
It had been there, simmering beneath the surface from the moment she’d heard his voice. Seeing him, sharing his company only made it worse.
For she was forced to recall memories, evocative, spellbinding in their intensity.
Even now, her body seemed to recognise his, and she attempted to control the curl of sensual emotion stirring deep within.
She didn’t want to remember the all-consuming passion, the feel of his hands, his mouth … how she’d lost herself so completely in him.
Go, a silent voice urged.
Ignite the engine and leave.
Now.
Somehow she managed to get through the remainder of the day, and she bore Nicki’s excited chatter about “Mummy’s friend” and the proposed picnic as she bathed and fed Nicki, then readied herself for work.
‘I have lots to tell Anna.’
Shannay leant down and kissed her daughter’s cheek as the doorbell rang. ‘Be good, hmm?’
‘Always,’ Nicki responded solemnly.
A light chuckle emerged from her throat. ‘Imp.’
‘A nice imp.’
Shannay gathered her in for a hug, then smoothed a hand over dark curls. ‘Extra-specially nice,’ she agreed, and crossed to let Anna into the apartment.
CHAPTER FOUR
MARCELLO’S IMAGE haunted Shannay’s subconscious and provided scattered dreams which seemed to reach nightmarish proportion throughout the night.