‘You think putting a ring on my finger is going to suddenly make me find you irresistible?’ Sabrina asked with a scowl.
‘Diamonds have usually done the trick with all the women I have known,’ he said with a mocking smile. ‘Did you know I have recently acquired an investment in a large diamond company?’
She shook her head. ‘No, but that’s of no interest to—’
‘I will have a ring made up with Marcolini diamonds, and then we will see just how irresistible I am, shall we?’ he carried on in that arrogant manner of his.
Sabrina was steadily fuming. ‘You really have an appalling opinion of women, don’t you?’
‘I am a realist,’ he said, tying the ends of the bathrobe around his waist. ‘I know the games women like you play. Money and prestige are paramount. You do not let feelings get in the way of position and power. That would ruin everything, would it not? You didn’t love Howard Roebourne, for instance. He was just a meal ticket, a means to an end. What a pity it all went sour for you.’
Sabrina tightened her mouth even further. ‘You don’t know what you are talking about,’ she said.
His dark eyes hardened with cynicism. ‘He’s told me what you were like, Sabrina. From your activities so far, I have no reason to doubt him.’
Colour flowed into Sabrina’s cheeks. She had been so naïve in her handling of Howard Roebourne. She had not recognised the subtle moves he had been making on her until it was too late. ‘He was lying,’ she said through clenched teeth.
Mario picked up his room card from the table. ‘After I have a swim I will have dinner brought up to the suite,’ he said. ‘That is, unless you think Molly is not too young to be taken out to a restaurant.’
Sabrina pressed her lips together. Dinner with others around would certainly be less threatening than sharing a meal in the room, commodious and luxurious as it was. But then Molly was only four months old, and the clatter of crockery and cutlery would hardly be conducive for a restful sleep. ‘Um…1 think today has been rather a big day for her,’ she said at last.
His eyes held hers for a second longer than she felt comfortable with. ‘As you wish,’ he said.
Sabrina waited until he had left the suite before she let out her breath in a ragged stream. ‘What were you thinking, Laura?’ she whispered hollowly. ‘For God’s sake, what were you and Ric thinking?’
CHAPTER FOUR
SABRINA was sitting on one of the plush leather sofas, flicking through a magazine, when Mario returned from the pool. In spite of every attempt to ignore him, she felt her eyes drawn to his tall, imposing frame. He was wearing the hotel bathrobe but it was now hanging open to reveal the close-fitting black bathers that shaped his male form lovingly. The long, strong, tanned muscular length of his legs made her breath suddenly hitch in her throat. He was so intensely male she seriously wondered if any other man could hold a candle to him without it being snuffed out in shame. His slicked-back hair revealed the handsome contours of his face: his high, intelligent forehead, his patrician nose, his devil-may-care mouth and his dark eyes fringed with thick, black lashes still spiky with moisture from the pool.
‘I’m going to have a shower,’ he said with a glinting smile. ‘Would you like to come in and scrub my back for me?’
Sabrina rolled her eyes and returned to her magazine. ‘No thank you.’
‘Afraid you might enjoy it?’ he asked.
She closed the magazine and gave him a reprimanding adult-to-recalcitrant-child look. ‘Do you ever think about anything else besides having your physical desires met?’
His eyes locked with hers in a challenging duel. ‘Yes, I do, as a matter of fact,’ he answered. ‘I think about how you slept with Roebourne under his wife’s nose.’
Sabrina stood up and tossed the magazine down with a slap of glossy paper on marble. ‘I did nothing with him,’ she bit out.
One of his dark brows lifted in derision. ‘I just can’t quite believe you, Sabrina. I wonder, how much did he pay you to say that?’ he asked.
‘Have you ever considered I might actually be telling the truth?’ she asked with a jut of her chin.
His eyes scanned her face for long seconds, as if making up his mind about her. Sabrina hated that she had a propensity to blush and fidget when under pressure. It made her look guilty and ill at ease, the opposite of what she wanted to convey. But then from the first moment she had been introduced to him Mario had made her feel like a naughty school-girl meeting the headmaster for some supposed misdemeanour.
‘I have found in life there is not often smoke without some sort of heat behind it,’ he said. ‘The rumours that stick are usually the ones that have a grain of truth in them.’
‘It seems to me it doesn’t matter what I say, as you have already made up your mind about me,’ Sabrina said. ‘I would have thought someone who has spent most of his adult life subjected to the speculation of the press would have realised how unjust that is.’
‘Ah, yes, but you have consistently refused to speak to the press,’ he said. ‘If you had nothing to hide, why not tell your own side of the story?’
Sabrina folded her arms against her chest as an image of Teddy and Amelia Roebourne came into her mind. Their young innocence was worth protecting even if it meant compromising herself. ‘I don’t have to explain anything to anyone,’ she said. ‘What I do or don’t do in my private life is my own business and no one else’s.’
‘What you do once we are husband and wife will be very much my business,’ he said, with a thread of steel underpinning his statement. ‘I am sure I do not need to remind you, I am a high-profile businessman with many important clients across the globe. I do not want any personal scandals to disrupt my life, or indeed that of Molly’s.’
Sabrina bristled at his autocratic stance. ‘I suppose you want me to have no life at all while you carry on as normal? That’s called a double standard, Mario, and in this country women don’t take too kindly to it.’
‘Then it is just as well you will not be in this country but in mine,’ he returned. ‘Of course, if you don’t want to go through with the arrangement I can always find someone else to take up the position.’
Sabrina reined in her temper with an effort. She was dancing on thin ice with him, and he was ruthlessly reminding her of it. He didn’t need her half as much as she needed him. The chances of her finding a husband at short notice were very slim indeed; the chances of finding a man who would love and protect Molly as if she was his own were even slimmer. She would have to see this arrangement through, no matter what the cost. There would be compensations, surely. She would have loads of time to be with Molly, to be the best substitute mother possible. And living in a foreign country would be an adventure of sorts. She had often toyed with the idea of working abroad and this was a perfect chance to do so.
‘I am not going to desert Molly,’ she said, with a determined set to her mouth.
His mouth was tilted in its usual mocking angle. ‘Not to mention turn your back on a truckload of money. That would go against everything written in the gold-digger’s guide to amassing a fortune, would it not?’
Sabrina glowered at him. ‘I can see why your relationships only last a few weeks. No woman in her right mind would put up with your arrogance and rudeness any longer than that.’
‘On the contrary, I make a point of always being the one to bring a liaison to an end,’ he said.
‘Have you ever been in love?’ she asked.
‘No.’
She couldn’t quite stop her lip from curling. ‘So your relationships are basically about sex.’
‘More or less,’ he said with another indolent smile.
Sabrina felt a faint shiver pass over her as his dark eyes held hers. There was something about him that deeply unnerved her when he looked at her like that. It was as if he knew what she was thinking, how her mind was conjuring up images of him pleasuring her, kissing her senseless, crushing her beneath him as he plunged into her moist softne
ss.
She felt her womb contract as his gaze went to her mouth, each and every one of the pulsing seconds swollen with erotic promise. Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips, her heart thundering in her chest as he brushed the pad of his thumb where her tongue had just been, the caress so intimate, so sensually stirring, she felt her lips tingle all over with need.
She wanted to feel his mouth on hers, to taste his maleness, to feel the rasp of his unshaven jaw against her skin, to thread her fingers through his silky black hair, to feel his hard body pressed against hers in mutual longing. She tipped up her face, her eyes half-closed in silent appeal, a soft whimper of need sounding at the back of her throat as his head slowly came down towards hers.
Molly’s cry from the bedroom was soft but it was enough to break the spell. Sabrina stepped backwards, one of her hands shakily brushing back her hair, her eyes slipping out of reach of his. ‘I—I think she needs changing,’ she mumbled as she slipped away.
As she saw to the baby’s needs, Sabrina remonstrated with herself for being so foolish as to be tempted by Mario’s touch. She had been so close to losing her head. She had been a whisker away from begging him to kiss her. Was she so pathetically weak? She had always been so sensible and in control, but for some reason Mario Marcolini made her feel out of control and reckless. He awakened in her a side of her personality she hadn’t known existed. He made her aware of her body in a way no one else had ever done. He had only to look at her and she felt as if her skin had been set alight. Her body pulsed with longing, a persistent ache, that tortured her whenever he was around. It was like an itch she couldn’t reach to scratch, a hunger she couldn’t satisfy.
Sabrina could hear the shower running as she came back out to the lounge area with Molly in her arms. She tried not to think of Mario’s naked body standing under the fine needles of spray, but her mind played traitor all the same. Even after she heard the water being turned off, she began to picture him drying himself with one of the big fluffy white towels.
‘Oh, for God’s sake,’ she chastised herself after a few more minutes of mental torture. ‘This must stop.’
‘Everything all right?’ Mario asked as he sauntered in with a towel slung low around his hips.
Sabrina swallowed tightly as her eyes ran over him. ‘Er…yes. Fine…’ she stammered.
He came over and tickled Molly under the chin. ‘Come è la mia bambina?’ he asked.
Sabrina felt her nostrils flare to take in the clean, sharp tang of his aftershave. He was standing so close she felt his body heat; she could even see tiny droplets of water clinging to his slicked-back hair. He was smiling down at the baby, his eyes like melted chocolate, and his finger now stroking the tiny, dimpled cheek.
‘She is so young and defenceless,’ he said, meeting Sabrina’s gaze.
‘Um, yes. Yes, she is,’ she said, scarcely able to breathe.
The baby grasped his finger with her tiny hands and gurled at him, her little legs kicking up and down in excitement.
‘Is she hungry?’ he asked. ‘She seems to want to gnaw on my finger.’
‘She might be teething,’ Sabrina said. ‘Some babies get them earlier than others.’
‘Does it hurt?’ he asked, looking at her again.
Sabrina felt herself drowning in the dark pools of his eyes. His forehead was creased slightly, his expression serious and concerned. ‘Sometimes,’ she said. ‘Their gums can get a little red and sore just before the tooth breaks through.’
His gaze shifted back to the baby in her arms. ‘Can I have my finger back, mio piccolo?’ he asked.
Molly smiled and kicked her legs some more, still clutching his finger with her little dimpled hands.
Sabrina watched as his mouth curved upwards in another smile, the effect on her making her feel as if someone was slowly pulling a long silk ribbon out of her insides. She could see why Ric had insisted Mario be appointed as Molly’s guardian. He might be an out and out playboy, but there was no question over his attachment to the child. She had seen biological fathers show less affection for their children than Mario did towards Molly.
Mario gently freed his finger and stroked the baby’s wispy dark hair. ‘Have you thought about what Molly should call us?’ he asked.
Sabrina captured her bottom lip for a moment. ‘I’m not sure,’ she said. ‘Mummy and Daddy seems—I don’t know—not quite right under the circumstances.’
‘Yes,’ he said, frowning slightly. ‘I have been thinking the same, but I suppose that is because it has been such a shock. We are not used to thinking of ourselves as her parents. I think in time I will get used to her calling me Papa. I don’t want her to address me as ‘Uncle’ or by my first name. I want her to look upon me as her father, even though I am not.’
Sabrina couldn’t help noticing he didn’t offer any suggestions over what she should allow Molly to call her. She could only suppose it was because he didn’t envisage her being around in the long term. She looked down at the baby in her arms and felt her heart tighten at the thought of being shunted aside some time in the future. She couldn’t let it happen, even if it meant fighting him tooth and ten bitten nails every step of the way.
Mario stepped back once Molly released his finger. ‘Have you decided what you want from the room-service menu?’ he asked Sabrina.
‘I haven’t had time to look,’ she said, transferring Molly to her shoulder and gently patting her on the back to soothe her.
He picked up the hotel services guide and handed it to her. ‘The chef will do anything to order if there is nothing on the menu that takes your fancy,’ he said. ‘Help yourself to a drink from the bar while I get dressed.’
Sabrina glanced at the bar once he had left the room, but in the end she decided against a unit or two of Dutch courage. The intimacy of sharing a suite was doing enough damage to her equilibrium. She was already having trouble keeping her mind focussed and in control. The last thing she needed was to have her inhibition blurred by alcohol, given what had happened the last time she had indulged.
Mario came out a few minutes later dressed in black trousers and a casual light blue shirt. His hair was still damp and finger-combed back, giving him a rakish look that was disturbingly attractive. ‘Is Molly asleep?’ he asked, looking at the baby snuggled peacefully against her neck.
‘Yes; I was just waiting for you to come out so I could put her back down,’ Sabrina said, moving past him towards the bedroom he had just vacated.
Once she had left, Mario poured himself a drink and wandered over to the bank of windows to look at the view. The city and harbour lights twinkled in the spring evening air, and he watched as a train crossed the Harbour Bridge like a long, golden centipede.
He felt a pang of loss deep in his gut at the thought of never seeing Ric Costelli again. How many times had they shared a drink and chatted about their lives and interests? When he’d received the news of the accident he had been rocked to the core. He had thought it was a mistake, a sick joke someone was playing on him. How could someone so vital and alive like Ric be lying now in a cold, dark grave?
Memories came flooding back: the childhood pranks he and Ric had got up to when they’d been in elementary school; the day Ric had left with his family to come to Australia; the various trips they had taken when Mario had flown over to visit, most especially the skiing, when they had both stared mortality in the face and won.
Mario remembered Ric phoning him two years ago to tell him he had fallen in love with an Australian woman called Laura, and then just four months ago calling him in the middle of the night to tell him he was the father of a baby girl. Now Molly was an orphan; she would never know her mother or her father, never hear their voices, never look into their eyes and see the love they had had for her.
Mario was determined to do the right thing by Molly, even though it meant sacrificing his freedom for the time being at least. Although, the more he thought about it, it might not be such a hardship being temporarily tied to
Sabrina Halliday. She had a certain allure about her—that defiant grey gaze, that stubborn chin, that quick-firing tongue and that slim but feminine-in-all-the-right-places body stirred him more than he had thought possible. She certainly wasn’t his usual type. But he could not remember a time when he had wanted a woman more. Was it because she had held him at arm’s length thus far? It wouldn’t be for long, of that he was sure. She was as on-fire for him as he was for her; he could feel it every time their eyes met. It was like a vibration in the air, a high frequency of energy that passed between them. He saw the way her pupils flared, the way her tongue swept over her lips, making them moist and soft and so very tempting to taste.
God, he was getting hard just thinking about it. She would be dynamite in bed; he could tell from the way she had come on to him at the christening. Her soft, full mouth had barely touched his before it had flowered open beneath the responding pressure of his. Her tongue had tangled with his, her small, white teeth nipping at his bottom lip until he had been close to losing control. Her body had been so tightly clamped against his he had felt every delicious contour of hers, and he hadn’t been able to wait to have her naked in his arms, to feel her creamy, satin skin against his. He had been tempted to take her up against the nearest wall, but the sound of someone coming had prevented him taking things that far. His body had throbbed and ached for hours afterwards, and he’d determined then that one day, somehow, he would have her.
He would make her forget all about Howard Roebourne and any of her other lovers. It would be his name she gasped when she came, it would be his bed she occupied, no one else’s.
Mario turned and looked at her when she came back into the room. She met his gaze and he felt another surge of blood in his groin.
Yes, she would be his, he determined, and he had a feeling it would be sooner rather than later.
‘Can I get you a drink, Sabrina?’ he asked.
Bound By The Marcolini Diamonds (The Marcolini Men Book 2) Page 6