Sabrina gave herself a mental shake. This was hardly the time or place to be thinking of her one and only lapse into stupidity. She squared her shoulders and nodded towards a room off the main living area. ‘There’s a small study through there,’ she said. ‘It’s where I put Molly’s pram and changing bag earlier.’
She led the way, conscious of his gaze on her with every not-quite-steady step she took. No doubt he was comparing her to all the glamorous women he cavorted with back home in Europe, she thought with a kernel of bitterness lodging in her throat. His latest mistress was a catwalk model, tall and reed-slim, with platinum-blonde hair and breasts that would have made sleeping on her stomach uncomfortable if not impossible. But then he had probably moved on to someone else by now. He was known for changing his girlfriends like some people changed their shirts.
It was a lifestyle Sabrina could not relate to at all. The three things she longed for most in life were love, stability and commitment, and she knew she would be nothing but a gullible fool if she thought for even a moment that someone like Mario Marcolini could give them to her. He might be as handsome as sin and as tempting as the devil, but he was way out of her league, and always would be. Her gauche attempt to get him to notice her at Molly’s christening had more than confirmed that.
She opened the study door and, moving across to where the pram was, gently tucked Molly under the pink-bunny rug before turning to face Mario. Yet again she had to fight the urge not to stare at him. He was so impossibly good-looking it was heart-stopping even to glance at him. At six-feet-four, he towered over her five-feet-seven, and with that ink-black, glossy hair and those equally dark, glinting eyes he made her feel mousy and grey in comparison.
He closed the study door with a click that immediately dulled the sound of the chatter and clatter of the wake going on without them. It was like a volume switch suddenly being turned down; it made the silence of the study all the more intimidating, the closer confines of the room making her all too aware of the fact that he only had to take a stride or two to reach out and touch her.
His eyes met hers, holding them as if he had some sort of secret, magnetic power over her; she couldn’t look away if she tried. ‘We have a problem to solve and it needs to be solved quickly,’ he said.
Sabrina paused for a moment to moisten her lips with the tip of her tongue. She had been preparing herself for this, but even so, now that it came to the crunch, she felt devastated. She knew what he was going to do. He was going to take Molly back to Italy with him and there would be nothing she could do to stop him. She would never see her little goddaughter again if the very rich, very powerful and very ruthless Mario Marcolini had anything to do with it.
‘You have been informed that we have been appointed joint guardians of Molly, correct?’ he said, still watching her with that brooding, hawk-like gaze.
Sabrina nodded, her throat moving up and down over a knot of despair. She had been informed a couple of days ago of the terms of the guardianship Laura and Ric had nominated in their wills. She had also been told it was going to be challenged by Laura’s stepmother, who believed she and her new husband could offer Molly the more stable and secure future.
The lawyer had been up front about Sabrina’s chances of keeping Molly in her care, and it didn’t look good. The court would decide on the basis of the best interests of the child: for instance who had the most to offer in terms of security, of the child’s welfare and future provision. Sabrina was not only single, but currently out of work, while Ingrid Knowles and her husband, Stanley, although on the wrong side of fifty, were more than well off and had made no secret of their wish for a child.
‘Y-yes,’ she said, running her tongue across her chalk-dry lips again. ‘I am well aware of Laura and Ric’s wishes, but the legal advice I have been given is I stand very little chance of fulfilling them due to, er, my current circumstances.’
He gave her an inscrutable look. ‘Your current circumstances being that you are single, unemployed and lately labelled a home-wrecker, correct?’
As much as it galled Sabrina to agree with him, what choice did she have otherwise? The press had made her out to be a bed-hopping babysitter with her eyes on the main chance. She had wanted to defend herself, but knew she could not do so without upsetting the Roebourne children by exposing their father for the perfidious and lecherous creep he was.
‘Pretty much,’ she said with a grim set to her mouth. ‘Laura would be heartbroken to think her stepmother will get custody of Molly. She hated Ingrid with a passion. She told me so only a few days before …’ she gulped back her emotion ‘… before the accident.’
Mario began to slowly pace the room back and forth, like a caged lion meticulously planning an escape. Sabrina stood with her arms crossed over her chest like a shield. She kept her breathing as shallow and steady as she could, but even so she felt her nostrils flare as the exotic spices of his aftershave insinuated their way into her system, making her feel intoxicated, as if she had breathed in a powerful, aromatic drug.
‘I will not allow that woman and her husband to have full custody of Ric’s child,’ Mario said, turning to face her, his dark eyes diamond-hard with determination. ‘I will do everything, and I mean everything, in my power to prevent it.’
Sabrina felt her heart sink at his adamant statement. This was it. This was the part where he would state his intention of taking Molly back with him to Italy. Her stomach churned with anguish; how could she let this happen? Surely there was something she could do? She had grown up without her mother, without someone who loved her and understood her. How could she let the very same thing happen to little Molly?
‘I have a temporary solution,’ Mario said.
‘Y-you have?’ Sabrina’s voice was barely audible.
‘We are Molly’s godparents, and legally appointed guardians. These are both responsibilities I intend to take very seriously.’
‘I understand that but, as you say, we are both responsible for her, and I too take those responsibilities equally seriously,’ she said, wishing she had sounded more determined and less intimidated. Wishing she felt less intimidated.
His eyes held hers for a tense moment. ‘Then we shall have to share those responsibilities in the best way we can.’
‘What are you suggesting?’ Sabrina asked, conscious of a frown tugging at her forehead. ‘I live in Australia, you live in Italy. It’s not as if we can share custody of an infant, or at least not in what the courts will acknowledge is an acceptable way with Molly’s best interests at heart. She can’t be shifted back and forth between countries. She’s just a baby, for God’s sake. I’m not sure what it’s like in your country, but here the courts are big on what is best for the child.’
His jaw was set in an intractable line, his black-brown gaze still drilling into hers. ‘Ric was my best friend,’ he said. ‘I will not stand by and let his daughter be brought up by a couple who in my opinion are not worthy of the custody of an animal, let alone a small infant.’
‘All the same, I think it’s going to be almost impossible to present a case against Ingrid and Stanley over Molly’s custody,’ she said, tearing her gaze away from his mouth with an effort. ‘I don’t know what else I can do. I have looked at this from every angle, and I can’t help thinking the odds are against Laura’s and Ric’s wishes ever being granted.’
There was another silence, weighted with something Sabrina couldn’t quite identify. She felt the tension in the air, the humidity of the atmosphere, the pressure of the unknown, the calm before the tumultuous, uncontrollable storm that was stealthily approaching.
‘I think we should get married as soon as possible.’
The words fell into the silence like boulders into a calm pond. The rings went outwards, rolling towards her, each one threatening to swamp her. Waves of panic washed over her; she swallowed great, drowning mouthfuls of it before she could speak.
‘W-what did you say?’ she choked.
He gave her a leve
l look. ‘It is the only way we can secure Molly’s future,’ he said. ‘We are her godparents; if we marry, it will convince the court we are the most suitable candidates for her guardianship.’
Sabrina felt her brain start to whirl like an out of control adventure-park ride. Surely she was hearing things; had he really just suggested they marry each other? They were practically strangers. They had only met twice, and each time had circled each other like wary opponents. How could she agree to such a preposterous plan?
‘Think about it, Sabrina,’ he said. ‘I am a rich man who can provide everything Molly will ever need. You are an experienced hand at looking after infants and small children. We are also young enough to be good substitute-parents. It is a perfect solution.’
Sabrina finally located her voice, but it came out sounding like a rusty hinge. ‘You’re asking me to—to marry you?’
Mario’s eyes flickered in irritation at her tone. ‘It will not be a real marriage, if that is what is making you baulk at the prospect,’ he said. ‘We can each live our own lives—but of course you would have to live with me in Italy, at least until Molly is of an age when she does not need you so much. After that, we can reassess the situation and take appropriate action.’
Her grey eyes blinked at him, her soft mouth falling open, her cheeks developing a faint blush. ‘Live with you … in Italy?’ she said on a gulp.
Mario felt his annoyance rising at her. He was the one putting himself out on a limb here; he had sworn marriage was something he would never submit to. He loved his freedom; he relished every minute of being his own man, living the life he wanted to live without the ties of a permanent relationship. But, after receiving the news about his best friend’s death, he’d realised he would have to step up to the plate, and quickly.
Ric had once risked his own life to save Mario’s during a skiing trip in the Swiss Alps when they were nineteen. Mario knew he would not be alive and well today if it hadn’t been for Ric’s courage and persistence at digging him out of that avalanche with his bare hands. The bond of friendship that had always existed between them, had become so strong after that day Mario had felt sure even way back then that only death would be able to sever it.
Ric had trusted him to see to Molly’s interests and he would honour that trust, even if it meant temporarily tying himself to a woman with a more than tarnished reputation. Sabrina Halliday was all demure girl-next-door on the outside, but Mario had tasted a tiny morsel of what was simmering on the inside of that slim but all-woman figure. No doubt that was why she was playing the hard-to-get game with him now. He knew how gold-diggers worked, and as far as he was concerned she was a text-book case. She might have genuine affection for Molly, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t aware of how much she could gain out of this situation.
‘I am prepared to pay you for every year we remain married,’ he said. ‘I am even prepared to negotiate with the amount.’
The frown she gave him seemed too quick to be anything but genuine, but he was well used to the guiles of women with dollar signs in their eyes.
‘You think I want to be paid to be your wife?’ she asked.
He pinned her grey gaze with his. ‘You can have what you want, Sabrina, name your figure. I want Molly under my care and I will pay anything to achieve it.’
This time her face went pale and her small, white teeth began to gnaw at her bottom lip. ‘I think you’ve got the wrong idea about me—’
‘Let’s not dawdle any longer over this, Sabrina,’ he cut her off impatiently. ‘I realise moving to another country is a big step to take—but, with what has been happening here recently, do you not think it is an ideal time to escape from all the innuendo and speculation that has surrounded you?’
Sabrina felt her face crawl with colour. Just like everyone else in Sydney, he thought she was guilty. She could see it in his eyes, the way they ran over her as if he could see right through her clothes. The press hadn’t done her any favours, certainly, but surely he of all people knew how the media worked? He had been subjected to it all of his life, so how unfair was it for him to so readily assume she was as she had been portrayed?
But marry him?
Her stomach dropped at the thought of being in the same country as him, let alone the same room. He was everything she was not. Hadn’t she proved that by her clumsy attempt to kiss him that day? How could she possibly agree to marry him and subject herself to daily temptation? And, even more worrying, would she be able to withstand any attempt on his part to consummate the union if he took it upon himself to do so? He was temptation personified. She could feel the sexual energy of him here and now. Every time his eyes connected with hers it was like being exposed to powerful radiation, making her body hum inside and out.
‘You have not found a new position as a live-in nanny, and it is my guess you will not be able to for quite some time,’ he continued. ‘After all, what self-respecting wife would want to employ a well-known seductress to take care of her children?’
Sabrina ground her teeth. ‘I am no such thing. I was used as a scapegoat and no one would believe me.’
His expression was brimful with cynicism. ‘It is of no concern to me what you did or who you did it with,’ he said. ‘I need a wife in a hurry, and as far I can see you are the most suitable candidate.’
She curled her top lip at him. ‘I find it surprising you would want a wife with such a track record as mine. Aren’t you concerned I will be a bad influence on Molly?’
‘I have seen you with Molly, and I do not have any doubts over your love and care for her,’ he said. ‘Besides, she is used to you handling her, and I do not want her routine disrupted any more than it has been already. I do not know the first thing about babies, and quite frankly nor do any of the women I normally associate with. Plus, it was the wish of Laura and Ric that we should care for Molly.’
Sabrina felt a tiny hook-like tug somewhere in the middle of her chest at the thought of all the women he would continue to see if she married him. ‘A marriage of convenience’ was the term, a mutual agreement that benefited both parties, this time for the sake of a small, tragically orphaned child. Mario would continue his playboy lifestyle while she would act the role of the long-suffering wife. Oh, she would be well and truly compensated, of that she was sure. Money was no object when it came to the Marcolini bloodline. Upon his father’s death a few months ago, Mario had taken over the Marcolini investment business even though he was not the eldest son. His older brother Antonio was a high-profile plastic surgeon who travelled the world lecturing on his ground-breaking techniques for facial reconstruction surgery.
Between the two of them the money they had inherited and earned was beyond anything Sabrina could imagine. When she had lost her mother at the age of ten, the foster family who had taken her in had by no means been on the breadline, but they’d been frugal and conservative with their spending and their lifestyle. Necessities were saved for and purchased, but never luxuries. Sabrina had not even been to a proper restaurant until the age of sixteen, when she had saved up enough money from her various babysitting jobs to go out to celebrate a friend’s birthday.
Mario Marcolini on the other hand had probably been fed by five-star chefs all his silver-spooned life. The suit he was wearing looked as if it was a designer label; the silver watch on his tanned wrist probably cost more than her car. Everything about him spoke of wealth and privilege, which was no doubt where he had obtained his air of arrogance. His cleanly shaven jaw had a hint of stubbornness to it, and although she knew from experience how sinfully sensual his mouth could be she suspected it too could be equally intransigent if anyone stood in the way of what he wanted.
The sound of a tiny cry came from the pram, and Sabrina blinked herself out of her stasis to soothe Molly, who was due for a feed and change. ‘Hey there, little one,’ she cooed as she picked up the little pink bundle. ‘What is all the fuss about, hmm? Are you hungry?’
‘May I hold her?’
Sabrina turned with the baby in her arms, surprised at how deep and scratchy Mario’s voice had sounded. ‘Of course,’ she said, stepping towards him.
He took the baby carefully from her arms, one of his hands brushing against her breast as he did so. Sabrina tried to disguise her reaction, but she could feel the heat pooling in her cheeks all the same.
She watched as he cradled Molly against his broad chest, his large hands and long, strong forearms making the infant look so small in comparison. A corner of his mouth began to lift in a wistful smile as he looked down at the little girl, one of his long fingers stroking her tiny cheek. ‘Ciao, piccolo; sono il vostro nuovo papa,’ he said.
Sabrina found it amazing how one small infant could effect such a change in a man’s demeanour. Gone was the cynical glint in his dark gaze; in its place was a tender warmth that made her wish he would look at her like that. She pulled back from her traitorous thoughts, shocked at how she was reacting to him. Perhaps it was his out-of-the-blue proposal that had weakened her normally rigid resolve. Like him, she would do anything to protect Molly, but what he was suggesting made her feel as if she was wading out of her depth into very murky, dangerous water.
Being formally tied to him would mean much more than sharing a house and the care of a child. In spite of his assurance, the marriage would not be a real one. She couldn’t help but think living with him over any period of time would blur the boundaries, for her if not for him. From the first moment she had met him at Laura and Ric’s wedding eighteen months ago, she had felt a zapping sensation when his deep brown eyes had meshed with hers. It had made every nerve beneath her skin tingle with awareness; her stomach had felt hollow and her legs watery. He had flirted with her outrageously, and yet somehow she had managed to play it cool even though inside she had been simmering with reaction, a reaction she had not been able to control when she had met him again just a few weeks ago. She was not normally the sort of woman to have her head turned with suave good looks. She had always been so guarded around men, which made the fiasco with the Roebournes all the more ridiculously ironic.
Melanie Milburne Bestseller Collection 201209/The Marcolini Blackmail Marriage/Bound by the Marcolini Diamonds Page 16
