Bound By The Marcolini Diamonds (The Marcolini Men Book 2)

by MELANIE MILBURNE

  ‘Do you really think I would just walk away from Molly as if she meant nothing to me?’ she asked, still frowning furiously. ‘And what about what Molly wants? She will have come to look upon me as her mother. She’s practically doing it now. What you are suggesting is not just outrageous, it’s cruel to both Molly and to me.’

  He lifted his dark brows at her vehemence. ‘Come now, Sabrina,’ he said coolly. ‘You have looked after young children before, becoming involved with every aspect of their lives, only to leave when the family no longer requires your services.’

  ‘That’s not the same thing at all,’ Sabrina argued.

  ‘Are you saying you did not have any affection for the children you were employed to look after?’ he asked.

  Sabrina could feel her hatred of him simmering in her veins. It was pulsing through the intricate, narrow network in her body, threatening to burst out at any moment. She knew what he was doing; he was going to sideline her right from the start. She would be more than useful to him during the next two or three years while Molly was a baby and toddler, but after that she would be dismissed, just like any other servant in his employ.

  ‘Of course I develop great affection for the children in my care, but Molly is my godchild, the daughter of my best friend. It’s an entirely different relationship, especially given the circumstances now.’

  ‘Your marriage to me will not be permanent,’ he said. ‘As long as you understand that, there will not be a problem if you wish to continue to see Molly once our marriage is brought to an end.’

  Sabrina stood and lifted the baby against her chest to wind her, gently patting the tiny back, her eyes still tussling with his. ‘You think you’ve got this all worked out, haven’t you? I know what you are doing, Mario. You want a cheap babysitter while you continue to live your playboy lifestyle.’

  He gave her a smile, his eyes reflecting its mockery. ‘Cheap, Sabrina?’ he said. ‘Is that how you would describe yourself? Certainly the press called you such, and a whole lot more, if I recall.’

  She gave him a flinty glare. ‘I am not going to be dismissed from Molly’s life at your say-so. I want to remain a part of her life no matter what happens between us.’

  ‘Nothing is going to happen between us, Sabrina,’ he said. ‘Or have you got other ideas, hmm? A little affair with me to pass the time, just like you did with Mr Roebourne, sì?’

  This time her look was withering. ‘I have met some creeps in my time, and up until now Howard Roebourne was at the top of that list. But you, Mario Marcolini, have just bumped him off.’

  His smile was still mocking as he came up close and stroked a long finger down the baby’s cheek. Sabrina sucked in a breath; he was so close she could see the sandpapery stubble on his jaw, and the unfathomable black holes of his pupils in the deep, dark chocolate of his eyes. The air around her face carried a trace of his scent, a mixture of aftershave and male pheromones, making her heart give a funny, out-of-time beat.

  She quickly lowered her eyes and encountered the flat plane of his chest and stomach; she could almost imagine the six pack of ridged muscle lying beneath his designer shirt. She daren’t look any lower; she had spent too many nights as it was thinking about how he was made. The hardened length of him in full arousal as he had taken control of her amateur kiss at Molly’s christening had made the blood race frantically in her veins both then and since.

  She felt his finger beneath her chin as he lifted her face upwards. ‘Is that how you did it?’ he asked with a curl of his lip and a hard glint in his eyes. ‘Is that how you lured a respectable married man away from his wife, by looking at him with those smoky, grey come-to-bed eyes of yours?’

  Sabrina would have pulled away from his touch but she didn’t want to disturb Molly, who had drifted off to sleep against her shoulder. ‘I did not seduce him, or anyone,’ she said, glaring back at him.

  His finger moved from beneath her chin and came to her mouth, tracing a pathway over the fullness of her bottom lip, barely touching, making every sensitive nerve begin to leap and dance beneath the skin. ‘Ah, but that is not quite true, is it, Sabrina?’ he said in a low spine-loosening murmur. ‘It is not hard to see why so many men would find it hard to resist a taste of its sweetness. I have not forgotten how tempting it was to taste it myself when you so very kindly offered it to me.’

  Sabrina stood very still, barely able to breathe in case she betrayed herself. She wanted to taste his finger, to draw it into her mouth, to suck on it, to see if his pupils would flare with desire the she suspected hers were currently flaring. Her gaze flicked to his mouth, the sensual contours of it pulling on the secret strings of desire deep and low in her belly. It was like torture to stand so close and not touch him. She had blamed the champagne the day of the christening, but she was stone-cold sober now, and still she wanted his mouth to set hers alight. What was wrong with her? Was she somehow turning into the raunchy Jezebel the press had made her out to be?

  His hand dropped from her face. ‘I need to get going,’ he said, glancing at his watch. ‘I will come by your apartment this evening with some papers for you to sign.’

  Sabrina could feel the walls of her prison starting to close in on her. 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, si?”

  ‘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.’

  Sabrina felt her insides erupt into flames, the hot spurts of need anointing her intimately as she thought of what he would be like as a lover. Inexperienced as she was, she knew enough about him to know he would be everything a woman could want in a sexual partner: demanding, exciting, daring and dangerously attractive. The one kiss they had shared had shown her that and more. It had sent shooting sparks from one end of her body to the other, licking her senses into a frenzy of want. She could feel the pulse of her blood now, hectic and overly excited at his nearness. Her eyes went to his mouth, his fuller lower lip drawing her gaze like an industrial-sized magnet. All she had to do was step up on her tiptoes and their mouths would touch and burn…

  The sound of other guests spilling out of the house was the only thing that saved Sabrina from making a total fool of herself all over again. She pulled out of Mario’s hold and slipped into the passenger seat, her legs still trembling long after he had stridden around and got in behind the wheel of her four-cylinder car.

  Once he was sitting beside her, she suddenly realised how very small her car was. It was like a child’s toy; although he pushed back the driver’s seat to its maximum distance from the wheel to accommodate his length, every time he worked the gears she was aware of his suited arm within touching distance of her thigh.

  ‘I thought you would have hired some swanky Italian sportscar while you are here,’ she said once they were on their way. ‘Isn’t that what rich men like you do?’

  ‘I saw no need to waste money on one when I was only going to be here for such a short time,’ he answered evenly.

  Sabrina chewed over that for a moment. ‘What if I hadn’t agreed to your plan?’ she asked, not trusting herself to look at him.

  ‘Then I would have found some way of convincing you,’ he said, equally smoothly.

  This time she did look at him. ‘With blackmail, like you did with Ingrid and Stanley Knowles?’

  He met her eyes for a brief moment, before turning back to the traffic. ‘I see no reason not to use a bit of pressure when it is warranted,’ he said.

  Sabrina huddled in her seat, wondering how far he would have gone to make her change her mind if she had said no—not that she’d really had a chance to say no. Ingrid had come in and the words had tumbled out of Sabrina’s mouth, words that now tied her to a man she knew so little about.

  It was a disturbing thought. All she knew was Mario Marcolini was ruthless in business and equally so in his private life. Women came and went from his life like clouds in the sky, none of them lasting long enough to make an impression on him. She wondered if he had been hurt by a past lover, or if he was just one of those men, all too common these days, who shied away from commitment. All she knew about his background was what Laura had told her in snatches, and, because Sabrina hadn’t wanted to sound too curious, she hadn’t asked the questions she had longed to know the answers to. Questions she had no right to even be thinking, let alone asking.

  ‘Where to from here?’ Mario asked when he came to a crossroads.

 
; ‘Turn right at the next lights,’ she said. ‘My flat is in the fourth building on the left, but really I don’t think it’s such a good idea for me to move into your hotel with—’

  She stopped when she saw a news van parked outside her building, the cameras already being set up. ‘Oh no…’

  ‘Put your head down and ignore them,’ Mario said as he parked the car in the tenants’ parking area behind the tired-looking inner-city building. ‘I will deal with them while you go in and pack what you need. I can always send someone over later to get the rest.’

  Mario fielded the press with a few short statements about his intentions, even embellishing the facts a little for his own amusement. He watched as the news team drove away a few minutes later, and then with a sigh of satisfaction turned and entered the building.

  Sabrina’s flat was neat and tidy inside, but he could see why she had always sought employment in the upper echelons of society. Like the many gold-diggers he had met or had dealings with in the past, she was obviously looking for a way out of her current situation. A rich man, even if he was married, could set her up as his mistress. Things had backfired on her with Howard Roebourne, but no doubt there would be other rich men once he put an end to their temporary marriage, Mario thought sceptically.

  ‘How long have you lived here?’ Mario asked as she came out with a battered suitcase into the tiny lounge area.

  ‘A couple of years,’ she said. ‘I’d like something bigger and in a nicer suburb, but there’s really not much point when most of the families I have worked for have required me to live with them for extended periods.’

  ‘It must at times be difficult to have a private life when you are living with other people,’ he said, taking the bag out of her hand and placing it near the door. ‘No wonder you have been tempted to work and play under the same roof.’

  Her grey eyes flashed as they hit his. ‘You think I’m a slut, don’t you? And yet the papers are full of your sexual exploits. Your double standards make me sick.’