The Helen Bianchin And The Regency Scoundrels And Scandals Collections. Louise Allen
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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