The Helen Bianchin Collection

by Helen Bianchin

  He merely gave it a glance. ‘I’m sure your knowledge of the Spanish language is sufficient to provide a reasonably accurate translation.’

  The fact he was right didn’t sit well. ‘That isn’t the issue here.’

  His eyes never left her face. ‘What is the issue, Shannay?’

  ‘A reconciliation was never on the cards.’ Her eyes flashed gold sparks, and her fingers curled into her palm in frustrated anger. ‘There’s no way in hell it’s going to happen.’

  ‘You think not?’

  ‘I demand you order a retraction.’

  ‘No.’ His voice was dangerously soft, his expression an unyielding mask. ‘You deny it would be advantageous for Nicki to have two parents, a stable family life, and thus negate custody arrangements in two countries on the opposite sides of the world?’

  ‘With a mother and father constantly at war? Please.’

  ‘Would there necessarily need to be dissension?’ He made an encompassing gesture with one hand. ‘You would enjoy every social advantage and as my wife, be gifted anything you want.’

  Marcello watched the fleeting expressions, divined each and every one of them, and moved in for the kill.

  ‘Not even to please a very ill old man with only a short time to live?’

  Conflicting emotions tore at her emotional heart and lent shadows to her eyes.

  ‘Ramon has a very progressive form of cancer,’ he relayed quietly. ‘Various surgical procedures have delayed the inevitable. However, the brain tumour is inoperable, and the medical professionals predict it will only be a matter of weeks before he lapses into a coma.’

  Shannay was unable to hide the shock, or her genuine regret. ‘I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you warn me?’

  ‘I thought I had.’

  She searched for the precise words he’d used. ‘You said he was ill,’ she recalled. ‘You didn’t say he is dying.’

  She was conscious of his scrutiny, the studied ease with which he regarded her as the impact of his words sank in.

  ‘Given the circumstances, is it too much to ask?’

  Her eyes held his. ‘What about Nicki? Ramon wants to meet her, but have you given a thought to how Ramon’s rapidly deteriorating health will affect her? She’s only a child, and she’s much too young to assimilate and cope with illness of this magnitude.’

  ‘I’ve agonised over it,’ Marcello assured quietly. ‘At the moment Ramon spends a short time sitting in a comfortable chair in the sala. He looks old, a little tired and fragile, but he’s remarkably lucid.’ He regarded her thoughtfully. ‘You will be able to judge for yourself.’ An entire gamut of conflicting emotions vied for supremacy, including doubt. In the end, compassion won out.

  ‘You give me your word you’ll allow me to decide when Nicki’s visits should cease?’

  ‘Without question.’ He sank further back in his chair and raised his hands to cup his nape. ‘The purported reconciliation? You’ll agree to the pretence for Ramon’s sake?’

  Why did she harbour the feeling she was being led deeper into deception with every passing day?

  She wanted no part of it.

  Yet it seemed so little to do to ease an elderly man’s mind. To let him believe … what? That his beloved eldest grandson had reconciled with his wife? Spend time with his only great-grandchild?

  Couldn’t she gift Ramon that much?

  ‘Aren’t you forgetting something? Someone?’ Shannay asked at last.

  Marcello didn’t pretend to misunderstand.

  ‘Nicki will be told precisely who I am before we visit Ramon.’

  ‘Which will be when?’

  He checked his watch. ‘At eleven.’

  Just over an hour? ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘You heard.’

  Without thought she reached for a paperweight and threw it at him.

  Only to miss, as he fielded it in one hand.

  For a moment the air was electric, stark and momentous in its silence, and her eyes darkened with horrified disbelief as Marcello placed the glass weight onto the desk, then rose slowly to his feet.

  She couldn’t move, her feet seemingly cemented to the floor as he crossed to her side.

  There wasn’t a word she could utter, for her voice couldn’t pierce the lump that had risen in her throat, and she stood powerless as he captured her chin.

  His eyes were dark, almost black with forbidding anger, and his voice emerged in husky warning.

  ‘Play with fire, querida, and you risk getting burned.’

  He ran a finger along the edge of her jaw, almost caressing its shape, and a shiver slithered through her body.

  ‘So much emotion,’ Marcello opined silkily. ‘Why is that, do you suppose?’

  ‘Because I hate you.’

  ‘Better hate than indifference.’

  His fingers curled over her chin as he stroked a thumb over her lower lip … felt it tremble beneath his touch, and offered a faint smile.

  ‘Shall I put it to the test?’ He traced the column of her throat with the tip of one finger, rested briefly in the hollow between her breasts, then slid to cup one soft mound and brush its peak with a provocative sweep of his thumb.

  She felt it swell and harden beneath his touch, and hated her traitorous reaction.

  ‘Let me go.’

  His voice lowered to an indolent purr. ‘But we’re not yet done.’

  His mouth brushed hers in a teasing tracery that almost made her sway, and she stifled a faint groan as he pulled her lower lip between his teeth.

  She was hardly aware of the fingers of one hand working the snap at her waist, or the subtle slide of the zip fastening … until she felt his palm against the bare skin of her stomach.

  Then it was too late and her startled protest became lost in the way he filled her mouth, and she felt her body jerk spasmodically as his fingers slid through the soft curling hair at the junction of her thighs, then sought and found the moist warmth at her feminine core.

  With unerring accuracy he stroked the swollen clitoris and watched the way her eyes glazed as sensation arced through her in an encompassing wave. One which swelled again and again with every tantalising stroke, and he absorbed her cry as he used his fingers in a simulated thrust that sent her high.

  He wanted more, much more, and the temptation to take her here, now, was an almost unbearable hunger.

  On the desk, the floor, straddling him on the chair, pushed against the wall.

  The fact he could acted as a deterrent, and he simply held her, softening the touch of his mouth against her own until the shudders raking her slender form slowed and subsided.

  With care he withdrew his hand, closed the zip fastening on her jeans and pressed the snap.

  The action brought her back to her senses, and she pushed away from him, unable to believe she’d allowed what had just happened … to happen.

  How could she have relaxed her guard and become so seduced by his touch … dear heaven, his intrusion?

  She didn’t want to look at him. Couldn’t bear to see the satisfaction evident in his eyes, or his pleasure at her downfall.

  For an age neither of them spoke, and the only audible sound in the room was the slightly uneven sound of her breathing.

  ‘That was despicable,’ Shannay managed, hating him so much she almost shook with it. She lifted a hand and wiped the back of it across her mouth in an attempt to dispense the taste of him.

  And glimpsed the compelling sensuality apparent before he masked his expression.

  ‘But … enlightening, wouldn’t you agree?’

  ‘You’re keeping score?’ she countered with a tinge of bitterness, and saw his expression harden.

  ‘Where is Nicki?’

  She took a deep breath and released it slowly. ‘In the kitchen with Maria making biscuits.’

  ‘Then let’s go get her.’

  She looked at him sharply. ‘Now?’

  Get a grip, why don’t you?

  How, when her emotions wer
e in turmoil and her body had yet to recover? Even thinking about his touch was enough to cause tiny spasms in the most sensitive part of her anatomy.

  ‘We’ll tell her together.’

  With an effort she pulled herself together. ‘I should be the one—’

  ‘She deserves to have both her parents present.’

  Apprehension didn’t cover it as they collected Nicki and took her upstairs, and as they neared her room Shannay began doing deals with the deity.

  This was major. Major, she reiterated silently as Marcello placed Nicki on her bed, and hunkered down to her eye level.

  He kept the telling simple. So very simple, it was easy to follow his lead. And Nicki’s reaction became a timeless moment, one that caught the heartstrings and plucked the emotional depths as she stood and unhesitatingly wrapped her arms around Marcello’s neck.

  His eyes burned fiercely over Nicki’s head as he hugged her close, and Shannay had to blink hard to prevent the shimmer of tears spilling down her cheeks.

  Father and child together.

  Nicki’s delight and wholehearted acceptance, whose childish words said it all. ‘You’re my daddy.’

  It was a beginning, Shannay acknowledged, for Nicki was a perceptive child for her age and eventually there would be questions.

  But for now, one of the most important hurdles had been conquered.

  Marcello pressed a light kiss to his daughter’s temple. ‘Now we will all get ready to go visit with your bisabuelo, Ramon.’

  He rested a hand briefly on Shannay’s shoulder. ‘Fifteen minutes. I’ll wait for you downstairs.’

  Together they chose Nicki’s prettiest dress, and with her hair neatly caught together she followed Shannay into her room as Shannay selected a slim-fitting dress in jade linen, attached a belt, then tended to her hair and make-up beneath her daughter’s interested gaze.

  Marcello was standing in the foyer as they descended the stairs, and he smiled at Nicki’s childish beam when she placed her small hand in his on reaching his side.

  Carlo drove through the suburban avenues to Ramon’s mansion, parking it in the forecourt immediately adjacent to the main entrance.

  Shannay was unprepared for the physical changes in the elderly man, who’d been one of the few Martinez family members to view her kindly before and during her brief marriage to his eldest grandson.

  She remembered him as a strong man, despite his advancing years. Vibrant and powerful, yet compassionate to the young woman who’d captured Marcello’s heart.

  Ramon had encouraged her struggle to learn the Spanish language, to come to terms with the Martinez wealth and lifestyle, and to accept the things she couldn’t change.

  In a way, he’d been her mentor, and to now discover the shell of the man she’d once adored was heartbreaking.

  At first she was tentative, unsure whether the affection they’d shared still existed. After all, it had been she who’d left under cover of night, leaving only a brief note for Marcello to find on his return home, and no word for anyone else.

  ‘Holà.’ It wasn’t so much the greeting, but the husky-voiced delivery accompanied by a gentle smile that filled her eyes with unshed tears.

  ‘Ramon.’ She didn’t hesitate in crossing to the cushioned chair where he sat. Nor did she pause in brushing her lips to his cheek. ‘How are you?’

  The dark eyes twinkled with humour. ‘How do I look?’

  She tilted her head slightly to one side. ‘A little less the Martinez lion than I remember.’

  ‘How beautifully you lie.’ His soft laughter almost undid her. ‘But I forgive you for indulging an old man.’ He caught hold of her hand and held it within his own. ‘Now introduce me to my great-granddaughter.’

  Marcello moved forward with Nicki held in his arms.

  ‘Nicki,’ he said gently, ‘this is Ramon.’

  Ramon’s features softened dramatically, and his eyes misted. ‘Bring her closer.’

  For a moment Nicki looked hesitant, then she nodded as Marcello offered a few soft, reassuring words.

  ‘Holà, Bisabuelo.’

  Shannay’s eyes widened in startled surprise. The pronunciation was good. Who? Marcello … of course, possibly coached by Maria.

  For a moment she had mixed feelings, then they were overcome by Ramon’s obvious delight.

  ‘Nicki. A beautiful name for a beautiful little girl,’ he said gently.

  ‘Marcello—my daddy—sometimes calls me pequena,’ Nicki said solemnly. ‘That means little.’

  His smile melted Shannay’s heart. ‘Indeed it does. You must visit often, and I will teach you some Spanish.’

  ‘I’ll have to ask Mummy if it’s OK.’

  ‘Of course,’ Ramon agreed with equal solemnity, and cast Shannay an enquiring glance.

  ‘It will be a pleasure.’ How could she say anything else?

  ‘Marcello shall bring you.’

  Nicki looked momentarily unsure. ‘Mummy, too?’

  ‘Naturally. We shall make it mornings, then you will have the rest of the day to explore.’ He glanced up at the slight sound of a door opening. ‘Ah, here is Sophia with our tea.’

  Tea with delicious bite-size sandwiches and pastries, some pleasant conversation, after which Marcello indicated they should leave.

  ‘Hasta mañana.’

  Until tomorrow.

  Carlo drove them past the Warner Bros Park, a visit to which Marcello promised as a treat in store.

  ‘You’re a busy man,’ Shannay protested lightly.

  ‘Impossible I have learnt to delegate?’

  ‘Improbable.’

  ‘You are wrong.’

  She looked at him carefully. ‘We don’t expect you to give up your time.’

  Dark eyes travelled to her mouth and lingered there a moment too long. ‘It is my pleasure to do so.’

  Pleasure being the operative word, and unmistakable.

  Shannay could feel colour tinge her cheeks, and she shot him a dark glance before becoming seemingly engrossed in the scene beyond the car window.

  It was during dinner that evening that she brought up his social life, and a firm reiteration she didn’t require to be entertained … especially by him.

  ‘Won’t your—er—’ she paused with deliberate delicacy ‘—current lover,’ she lightly stressed, ‘become impatient at your absence?’

  One eyebrow slanted in silent mockery. ‘From her bed?’ And noted with interest the increased thud of a pulse at the base of her throat. ‘Possibly,’ he drawled, and took his time in adding, ‘If I had one.’

  She refused to rise to the bait. ‘Estella has become the consummate mistress?’

  ‘Something you would need to ask of her husband.’

  Estella had married? ‘I find it difficult to believe she gave up on you.’

  His smile was a mere facsimile. ‘It takes two, amada, and I was never a contender.’

  It wasn’t easy to feign indifference, but she managed it. ‘Could we change the subject?’

  ‘Yet you brought it up,’ he reminded with hateful simplicity.

  ‘Is Ramon in much pain?’ She kept the faintly desperate edge from her voice, and had the impression it didn’t fool him at all.

  Marcello’s gaze didn’t shift from her own as he inclined his head. ‘He has ongoing medical attention with a doctor and nurse in residence. It is his wish to remain at home.’

  Shannay knew his condition, and the odds. There was little to be done, except keep him comfortable.

  ‘I would ask that you and Nicki remain here until Ramon slips into a coma.’

  She should have seen it coming, and she cursed herself for not foreseeing just this eventuality.

  ‘I have a job,’ she reminded. ‘We have an agreement. After three weeks Nicki and I return to Perth.’

  ‘I’m sure your leave can be extended on compassionate grounds.’

  It could. If she wanted it extended.

  The truth being she didn’t trust herself t
o stay in Marcello’s company any longer than she had to.

  They shared a history, a potent chemistry she didn’t dare stir into vibrant life.

  He was dangerous, primitive, and intently focused.

  A surge of helpless anger rose to the fore at his manipulation, and her gaze hardened as she sought a measure of control.

  ‘You believe I brought you here with an ulterior motive in mind?’

  How could she doubt it? ‘Yes.’

  ‘Perhaps you’d care to elaborate?’

  His voice was a silky drawl as his eyes pierced her own, silently daring her to avoid his gaze.

  ‘I think you’ll do whatever it takes to ensure you get what you want,’ she retaliated heatedly.

  ‘And what is it you imagine I want?’

  ‘Nicki.’

  His expression didn’t change. ‘Of course. What else?’

  She couldn’t bear to be in his presence a moment longer, and she stood to her feet, tossed aside her napkin and turned away from him.

  ‘One day you won’t run.’

  Shannay swivelled and sent him a venomous glare. ‘You think?’

  He had the strong desire to haul her over his shoulder and carry her kicking and protesting to his bed.

  As he had done once in the past, when mere words had become an impossible means of communication. Kisses tempered by anger assumed reluctant passion, then became more, so much more, until there was no denial of need, or a mutual sensual recognition that overcame all else … until reality in the light of day intruded.

  Was her memory of what they’d shared as hauntingly vivid as his own?

  Did it keep her awake nights?

  He was counting on it.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  SHANNAY CHECKED her appearance, and wondered how she could look so calm, when her nerves were shot to pieces and it seemed as if a dozen butterflies were beating their wings madly inside her stomach.

  She really didn’t want to do this.

  Re-entering the Madrid social scene had never been part of the plan.

  Hell, nothing that had happened in the past few weeks formed part of any plan she could have envisaged in her worst nightmare!

  Yet the evening represented a fundraiser for a worthy charity, one of a few supported by the Martinez corporation.

  Marcello’s attendance was a given and, as his purported newly reconciled wife, she was expected to appear by his side.