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

by MELANIE MILBURNE

  Even if he had been thinking along the lines of marriage Sabrina was not the sort of woman Mario had ever envisaged as wife material. She might have a knack with infants and children, but what man wanted a wife who was likely to stray at the first opportunity? For the duration of their marriage he would have to keep a very close eye on her. He didn’t want her making a fool of him behind his back. He was the first to admit he had more than his share of pride, and he had no doubt from what he had seen so far that Sabrina was just the type who would find it entertaining to grind it into the dust.

  Although, looking at her now totally relaxed in sleep, it was hard to imagine her with the bed-hopping reputation she had been tarred with. He supposed that was why she was so successful at luring unsuspecting men into her orbit. She had a little-girl-lost look at times that had the potential to confound the hardest of hearts. He knew he had to watch himself around her. He was so used to playing the game with women who had the same motives as himself: sex without ties, fun on the run, nothing permanent and certainly no emotional investment. Sabrina challenged all that with one look with those smoky-grey eyes, not to mention her all-female body with its promise of passion in every delicious curve.

  Mario moved his arm to encircle her as she nestled closer. A soft sigh escaped her lips, her hands moving farther up his thigh to where his blood was already pumping like a piston. She was so practised at her game she could seduce a man in her sleep, he thought wryly.

  She murmured something and lifted her head, blinking at him groggily. ‘What time is it?’ she asked, brushing at her disordered hair, the action releasing another whiff of its fragrance into the air.

  ‘Rome time or Sydney time?’ he asked, trying to resist the urge to tuck a loose tendril of her hair behind her ear.

  She straightened in her seat, her eyes going straight to the sleeping baby. ‘Has she woken?’

  ‘No, she slept like a…’ He suddenly smiled. ‘Like a baby.’

  Sabrina turned and looked at him, her heart giving a little jerky movement in her chest at his smile. The smile had travelled all the way up to his eyes, making him look so utterly gorgeous that her breath stalled. She swallowed and tore her gaze away, concentrating with fierce intent on the sleeping baby. ‘Yes, well, whoever made up that adage obviously hadn’t had a baby,’ she said to fill the silence.

  ‘Perhaps you are right,’ he said, stretching out his legs.

  ‘How soon before we land?’ she asked as she looked out of the window to distract herself from the proximity of his long legs so close to hers.

  ‘The pilot has already started his descent,’ he said. ‘It won’t be long before the cabin crew will want us to prepare for landing. It seems a shame to wake Molly, but she is safer strapped in one of our laps than in the cot.’

  The announcement came through as Mario had pre-dieted, and Sabrina cuddled Molly close as he helped fix the infant seatbelt-attachment to hers. She barely breathed as his long-fingered hands dealt with the clip and straps, her stomach sucked in tightly in case he inadvertently or indeed deliberately touched her. She could feel her heart doing crazy back-flips at his proximity, the masculine scent of him dancing around her face.

  Before he sat back in his seat his gaze found hers, holding it for a pulsing beat or two of silence. Sabrina was the first to pull her gaze away, her desperate attempt to act cool and composed spoilt somewhat by the blush she could feel spreading over her cheeks. She drew Molly close and, taking a shallow breath, settled back in her seat as the plane began to make its way down.

  Within a few minutes they were safely on the ground and soon after they’d made their way through customs, and finally to the chauffeur-driven vehicle waiting outside. The press took a couple of photographs, and Sabrina noticed Mario seemed to be particularly annoyed by the intrusion as he swore at one of the paparazzi as he shouldered his way past, keeping Molly close against his chest.

  Sabrina absorbed the view as they drove towards the city. The ancient ruins of the Colosseum went past, and a flicker of excitement travelled through her belly in spite of the circumstances of their paper marriage. Her only overseas trip prior to this had been to New Zealand, and, although stunningly beautiful and with its own ancient Maori history, it was nothing like the eternal city of Rome. There was so much to see, so much history and so much beauty, it was almost too much for her to take in.

  Mario pointed out the various points of interest along the way, including the Celian Hill and then the Vatican in the distance. ‘I will be busy at work but I will organise someone to accompany you on a guided tour of all the sights,’ he offered as they drew close to his palazzo.

  Sabrina was surprised at the tiny jab of disappointment she felt. It wasn’t as if she even liked his company; why then should she want him to be the one to show her around? ‘I am sure I will be perfectly able to find my way around by myself,’ she said as the car purred to a stop outside an imposing-looking palazzo.

  ‘I am sure you are more than capable, but I must insist on Molly’s welfare being attended to at all times,’ he said as he helped her out of the car. ‘Rome is a beautiful city, but like a lot of cities its size it has it dangers—congested traffic being one of them. You are not used to cars being on the other side of the road, for instance. You would only have to push Molly’s pram out on the road ahead of you for tragedy to strike if you were not concentrating.’

  Sabrina could see his point, but she couldn’t help noticing it was Molly’s safety he was primarily concerned about, not hers. If anything it could prove to be rather convenient for him if something was to happen to her. He hadn’t wanted a wife, and certainly not one with the sort of reputation she had.

  She pushed her pique aside as Mario led the way inside the palazzo. The housekeeper came bustling towards them, barely gracing Sabrina with a glance before turning in delight at the baby, who was soundly asleep in the baby carrier.

  Mario made a few cursory introductions, but it was clear to Sabrina he had been brutally honest with his staff about the woman he had married. A hard nut of anger lodged in her throat and she clenched her teeth behind her coolly polite smile each time another staff member was introduced to her. She was determined to have it out with Mario in private, however. Surely it had been unnecessary to swing the jury before she had even stepped over the threshold?

  It didn’t help that everyone spoke Italian in a rapid-fire manner that made it impossible for her to pick up some of the very few words she had managed to learn from Laura. It made her feel all the more shut out, as if they were determined not to make any allowances for her.

  ‘Giovanna will show you to your room,’ Mario informed her. ‘I have to call in at my office to catch up on some paperwork which needs my immediate attention. I will no doubt see you later this evening.’

  Sabrina wondered if the paperwork he was going to catch up on was slim and blonde with breasts you could serve a meal off. She pushed her resentment down with an effort, turned and followed the housekeeper up the huge flight of stairs, trying not to show how overawed she was by the opulent furnishings on the way. Priceless works of art hung upon the walls, marble statues and busts were displayed along the lower and upper landings, and even the runner of carpet that followed the curve of the staircase felt as it if had been woven from air.

  The housekeeper opened a door about halfway down the second-floor landing. ‘This your room,’ she said. ‘The bambino next door. Signore Marcolini next door to that.’

  Sabrina thanked her, and without another word Giovanna left with a disapproving rustle of her starched, black uniform.

  Molly made a noise from the carrier, and Sabrina sighed and bent down to take her out. She held her close, silently promising she would see this through for the baby’s sake, no matter how difficult it turned out to be.

  Sabrina resisted falling asleep too early in case she couldn’t sleep that night. She felt jet-lagged, but with Molly to bathe and feed it gave her a focus to keep going. But once Molly was settled i
n the nursery next to her room there was little else for her to do but wait until it was a reasonable time to go to bed.

  The housekeeper had informed her earlier that evening that dinner would be served at eight-thirty, but when Sabrina went downstairs she ended up eating alone as Mario hadn’t yet returned. There was no message from him that she could find, and although she longed to ask Giovanna if Mario had told her when he would be back she resisted doing so.

  The large dining-room with its solitary place-setting on the highly polished, seemingly endless table made her feel all the more isolated. The food was delicious, however, and although her appetite was affected by the change of time zone she still managed to do the meal justice. She even drank a glass of wine, figuring it would help her to relax when it came time to go to bed.

  She thought about waiting until Mario got home to speak to him about the housekeeper’s coldness towards her, especially in view of Molly—who although still so young would before too long become aware of undercurrents of tension—but she decided against speaking with him until she was more rested. He was hard enough to resist with all her faculties working; God only knew what would happen if she locked horns with him in the edgy state she was currently in. She felt jittery and agitated, restless and frustrated. Trapped might be a better word, Sabrina thought as she finished the last of her wine. She was trapped by her own traitorous thoughts of Mario pleasuring her, introducing her to the sensual world of sexual pleasure. She felt a little shudder rumble through her as she remembered the passion in his kiss, the teasing of his tongue and the way her body had responded.

  Was this energy always going to be simmering between them? she wondered. Or was he dealing with his desire by taking the edge off it with his mistress? Jealousy tightened Sabrina’s insides to coils of barbed wire. She hated thinking about him with another woman—any other woman. For all the weeks since that kiss she had tortured herself with thoughts of his mouth passionately exploring other women’s mouths. It was stupid of her to act like a put-upon wife, but she couldn’t help it. She had taken his name and she was damned if she was going to be made of fool of, even if it was just in front of his household staff.

  Sabrina made her way upstairs and, once she was confident Molly was still sleeping peacefully, she found herself eyeing the other door leading off the nursery. What would it hurt to have a quick peek into Mario’s domain? He wasn’t home, and even if he did return she would surely hear him come along the landing, as she had heard Giovanna earlier. She wavered for a moment. Will I or won’t I? The temptation was dangling there, just waiting for her to give in to it.

  There was so much she didn’t know about her new husband. Surely it was her right to inspect his private quarters? How else could she find out who he was, what he liked, what he didn’t like, what things he chose to have around his private space? She had read somewhere that the three keys to knowing someone was to meet their family, go for a drive with them behind the wheel, and look into their bedroom. Well, Sabrina hadn’t yet met Mario’s older brother, but she had been for a drive with Mario behind the wheel, so this was the next step. Maybe she was rationalising her intrusion into his privacy, but he had railroaded her into marriage, so surely she had a right to get her own back?

  Sabrina watched as her hand slowly reached out to the door knob. It was still not too late to pull back, but instead of doing so she turned it clockwise and the door opened. And then, taking an uneven breath, she stepped over the threshold.

  It was a very masculine room.

  A large, king-size bed was made up with linen that looked every bit as luxurious as that on her own bed two doors away, but instead of the pink-and-white ensemble on her bed his was starkly black and white. The bedside tables followed the theme; they were black marble, and the lamp-stands polished white marble, the shades a muted grey.

  Sabrina could smell him in the air she breathed, the hint of his aftershave, the musk of his male body, and something else she felt drawn to in a way she could neither explain nor understand.

  She wandered over to the huge bed, stroking her hand over the spread, her fingertips tingling with sensation as she thought about his long, strong body stretched out in sleep or in the process of hot, passionate sex. How many women had he entertained in here? How many women had he pleasured with his leanly toned body—not to mention that sensual mouth of his?

  Sabrina stumbled backwards from her wayward thoughts, only to come up against a wall of warm, hard, male muscle. She spun round, her eyes going wide when she came face to face with Mario. ‘I…I was just…just…’ Her voice trailed off, her colour rising, her heart stuttering behind her ribcage like a two-stroke engine.

  Mario’s cynical gaze stripped her naked. ‘Come to play, Sabrina?’ he asked.

  Sabrina brushed at her loose hair with a hand that wasn’t quite steady. ‘I was just, um, looking around.’ It sounded so pathetic, so contrived. It sounded like a woman who was on the prowl, and she could see from the dark glint in his eyes that was exactly the way he had read it.

  ‘Looking around for what?’ he said, snaking an arm out to block her exit, his eyes like steel darts pinning hers.

  She felt the searing brand of his hand on her forearm, his long fingers overlapping each other around her slim wrist. The air pulsed with tension, a tension she could feel passing from his body to hers. It was as if by merely touching their blood was heating, the temperature rising by the second, until she felt sure she was going to boil unless he let her go. ‘N-nothing,’ she said in a cracked whisper.

  He pulled her up close to his body, chest to chest, thigh to thigh, temptation to temptation. ‘We both know what you are looking for, don’t we, Sabrina?’

  Sabrina could see her own desire reflected in the black pits of his eyes. His pupils were dilated, so much so she had trouble distinguishing the irises from them. Could he see what she was feeling? she wondered. Could he see how she longed for his mouth to capture hers and titillate her senses into overload?

  The tip of her tongue came out over her lips, and her stomach folded as his eyes dipped to follow its movement. His eyes came back to hers, the message in them plucking at the strings of her desire, playing a melody she had no hope of resisting. She felt each and every one of the vibrations throughout her body, her breasts aching as they pushed against the lacy restraint of her bra. Her legs felt unsteady, her heart rate equally so. Her body was suddenly outside of her control; it was acting of its own accord, doing things she had not thought possible just a few moments ago. It was moving against his, seeking his hot, hard heat, her hips melting into the thrust and grind of his like the wanton woman he took her to be.

  ‘God damn you,’ he growled and, bringing his head down, crushed her mouth beneath his.

  It was just like his last two kisses, explosive and out of control within seconds. Sabrina relished every sweep and thrust of his brandy-scented tongue; she revelled in every guttural groan he tried to suppress as she moved against him instinctively. It felt so good to be in his embrace; it felt so right for some strange reason. Her body fitted so neatly against his, her feminine softness against his hardness in a way that made her feel as if this was meant to be, that this moment was inevitable, and had been from the moment they had first met. That first spark of interest in his dark eyes had awakened her femininity, made her become aware of her body and its needs, and how only he could meet them. No one else had affected her the way he did. She didn’t think anyone else could, not now she had been singed by the sensual heat of his touch.

  She could have stopped him, she should have stopped him, but still she returned his kiss—inciting him to caress her breasts, to shape them with his hands, to tug her clothes out of the way so he could feel her skin on skin, so he could open his mouth over one erect nipple, sucking, licking and drawing on her until she was whimpering in pleasure. He moved to her other breast, subjecting it to the same passionate assault before he pressed her backwards towards the bed.

  Sabrina considered telli
ng him of her inexperience. She even opened her mouth in that brief moment when his left hers, but all she could manage to say was his name: ‘Mario…’

  His dark eyes swept over her hungrily, making her blood race through her veins at a terrifying pace. ‘I told myself I would not do this,’ he said, breathing hard. ‘But the truth is I have wanted to do this since the first day we met.’

  ‘I wanted it too,’ she breathed against his lips as they sealed hers again with a kiss that left her in no doubt of where they were heading from here.

  Sabrina felt the mattress at the back of her knees, but even then she didn’t stop him. It was like someone else was in charge of her senses; it wasn’t the sensible Sabrina Halliday who rarely dated, let alone kissed a man she barely knew. It was someone else, a sensual addict who pulsed and throbbed with lust for a man she all but hated.

  She fell back on the bed with his weight coming over her, his muscled thighs entrapping hers, his hands dealing with her clothes in much the same manner as she was dealing with his—frantically. Buttons popped, fabric ripped, and still it didn’t register that she should call a halt. She wanted this. She wanted to feel his passion, she wanted to feel him lose control because of her, because of the electric heat that had been passing between them like lightning bolts from the moment they had met.

  She lay beneath him, naked except for her knickers, her body writhing beneath the one last barrier that separated them. He had somehow dispensed with everything but his briefs, his aroused length pushing against that final, fragile shield like a tightly clenched fist pushing its way against a pair of closed velvet curtains.

  She sucked in a breath as he drew the lace from her body, the slow but steady slide of fabric down her thighs making her arch her spine in readiness for him. She quickly moistened her mouth. ‘Mario…’ she began. ‘I’m not—’ She stopped, pulled up short by the fear of him not going on if she told him the truth. She wanted this so much; she needed him to make her feel complete. Stopping now would leave them both stranded and unsatisfied.