Mario began to drum his fingers on the table, his eyes still tethering hers. ‘What is this about, Sabrina?’ he asked.
She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. ‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘Forget I said anything. You’re right—a registry office makes perfect sense under the circumstances.’
Mario wondered what she was playing at. Did she hope to make him think twice about ending the marriage by making him commit to the formality of a full-blown, church-sanctified ceremony? He was Italian, after all; the church was a deeply entrenched part of his culture, and she could hardly be ignorant of it. She was a devious little madam, perhaps far more devious than he had first allowed. Did she want the world to know she had landed herself a wealthy business tycoon? Perhaps, to whitewash her reputation over her involvement with Howard Roebourne. But there was no way Mario was going to dance to her particular tune. He would marry her—but on his terms and his terms only.
‘I have chartered a private jet for our trip to Rome,’ he said, changing the subject. ‘I thought it would make it more comfortable for Molly. Long-haul flights are not the most pleasant experience in a commercial plane, even in business class, and particularly so for an infant, I would imagine.’
‘You seemed to have thought of everything,’ she said, still looking at him with a sulky expression.
‘I am doing my best to cover all bases,’ he answered. ‘However, I have not yet purchased a wedding or engagement ring for you to wear. I thought I would wait until we are in Rome. I have a jeweller friend who acts as an agent for the Marcolini diamonds.’
She gave a ‘couldn’t care less’ shrug. ‘You can get one from a fairground slot machine for all I care. I am quite sure that’s what you would really prefer to do.’
Mario felt his jaw lock with tension. ‘Do not push me too far, Sabrina,’ he said. ‘It is not too late for me to find someone else to step up to the plate and be a mother to Molly.’
Her grey eyes were stormy as they warred with his. ‘I am not going away without a fight,’ she said. ‘I am going to hate every minute of being married to you, but I love Molly enough to endure whatever torture you dish out.’
Mario tossed his napkin aside, his mouth set in an intractable line. ‘You can hate me all you like, but one thing I absolutely insist on is that you keep your ill feelings out of the sight and hearing of Molly. She might be too young to speak as yet, but she has eyes and ears. I do not want her poisoned against me by you.’
Sabrina wished her nails were long enough to score down his arrogant face. Anger raged inside her, red spots of it almost blinding her as she returned his heated glare. How she hated him! He was everything she most despised in a man. She was unused to feeling such powerful, overwhelming emotions. She was normally such an even-tempered person, slow to anger, patient to a fault—and yet in Mario Marcolini’s presence something inside her burned like a hot flame, threatening to totally consume her. But she knew if she gave in to her fury he would use it against her. He had the power to do whatever he wanted. She would never see Molly again, and he would not have a twinge of conscience about it.
In less than twenty-four hours they would be married. That would at least give her some sort of security and a rightful place in Molly’s life, for the time being at least. All she could hope for was that he would see in time how much Molly needed her and allow her a permanent place in the little girl’s life, even if it meant she had to suffer regular contact with him as joint custodian.
Taking a deep breath to calm herself down, she picked up her wine glass and took another sip, all the time watching the way Mario’s dark eyes surveyed her with brooding intensity. ‘You know something, Mario?’ she said after a moment. ‘I think that works both ways, don’t you? If Molly hears you calling me names and other such opprobrious names, what sort of husband and father figure will she think you are?’
He reached for his glass, his eyes still on hers. ‘I dare say we will both have to watch our tongues when interacting with each other,’ he conceded. ‘But I am sure all parents have to at times shelve their differences for the sake of their children.’
‘Children are highly perceptive,’ Sabrina pointed out. ‘They can nearly always sense when their parents are at loggerheads, even when the parents think they are hiding it. It can cause great emotional distress for youngsters when they feel undercurrents of tension all the time.’
‘Then we will have to make sure we settle our differences well before Molly is of an age to be affected by them,’ he returned.
‘How do you suggest we do that?’ Sabrina asked, frowning in wariness.
‘We shall have to call a truce,’ he said, raising his glass in preparation for a toast. ‘How about we make a toast?’
She cautiously touched her glass against his. ‘What exactly are we drinking to?’ she asked.
He gave her an enigmatic smile. ‘To making love, not war,’ he said and, lifting his glass to his lips, he drained the contents.
CHAPTER SIX
SABRINA put her glass down on the table with a hand that trembled slightly. ‘I … I need to check on Molly,’ she said, and pushed back her chair.
Mario got to his feet. ‘I have a few calls to make and some emails to send, but I will do it downstairs in the business centre so I don’t disturb Molly,’ he said. ‘Feel free to get into bed whenever you are ready.’
Sabrina felt her body tense. ‘Um … I think I would be more comfortable sleeping on the sofa,’ she said.
His eyes smouldered as they held hers. ‘You do not fancy sharing my bed, Sabrina?’ he asked. ‘What—is it too soon after leaving Roebourne’s?’
She tightened her mouth, refusing to respond to his taunt, beyond caring if it confirmed his opinion of her as a tart. Let him think what he liked. He was hardly one to throw the first stone, given his easy-come easy-go approach to the women in his life.
Mario came to stand in front of her, blocking her exit. ‘I can make you forget all about him,’ he said.
Sabrina sucked in a breath when he stroked his fingertip down her cheek to just within reach of her mouth. Every sensitive nerve in her face bloomed in response. Her lips began to tingle; the anticipation of feeling the brush of his mouth against hers became almost unbearable. Her eyes were trapped by the mesmerising heat of his, the silent communication of attraction and hot-blooded desire making her heart begin to pound and her legs feel as if they were turning to water.
She watched as his mouth slowly descended towards hers, millimetre by millimetre, the light, warm breeze of his breath caressing her expectant lips, thrilling them, ramping up her excitement until she was tilting towards him, her eyes fluttering closed as his mouth finally, blissfully met hers.
It was a potently explosive kiss. But then Sabrina wondered if any of Mario’s kisses were anything else. Everything about him communicated his sexual power, most particularly his utterly sensual mouth. She felt the hot, hard heat of him as his mouth commandeered hers, his lips firm and demanding, and yet strangely gentle and persuasive. She opened her mouth on a shuddering sigh, her whole body shaking in reaction when his tongue drove through the small opening in a thrust-like movement, an erotic imitation of what his lower body would do if she let her resolve slip.
She felt him explore every corner of her mouth in erotic detail, his teeth taking her bottom lip in a nip-like tug that sent a zigzag of lightning down her spine. His tongue tangled with hers again, playing with it, teasing it, stroking it and then subduing it, reminding her just exactly who was in control. It certainly wasn’t her, Sabrina thought ruefully. She was giving a pretty fair imitation of a lustful libertine, and yet there seemed to be nothing she could do to stop it.
As soon as his lips met hers, she felt as if he had turned a switch on in her body. It was programmed to respond to him and only him. It wasn’t that she hadn’t been kissed before, but never so thoroughly, and never to the point where her body melted like honey under a blow torch. She could feel the slick moisture of desire between
her thighs, her intimate cleft swelling with need, the on-off pulse deep inside her aching for the delicious friction of his thick, hard possession. She could feel him against her, the outline of his maleness inciting her to kiss him back with heated fervour. Her tongue was stroking his boldly, her teeth tugging at his lips, both top and bottom, in little kittenish bites that brought a primitive groan of approval from deep within him.
‘Lei è una tentatrice,’ he growled, and deepened the kiss even further, pushing her back against the wall, his hands going to the proud mounds of her breasts.
Sabrina felt her spine almost collapse when he cupped her, for even through the layers of her clothing she felt the exhilarating electricity of his touch. But, impatient to feel her skin on skin, he tugged her top out of her skirt, and with a deftness that spoke of his monumental experience he unclipped her bra, freeing her aching, swollen breasts to the ministrations of his warm, caressing hands.
It was mind-blowing to feel her nipples embed themselves in his warm palms, the intimacy of his touch taking her by surprise, and yet delighting her at the same time. The weight and shape of her breasts seemed to be a perfect match for the cup of his hands. Never had she felt so feminine, so in tune with her body. Every pore of her skin seemed to be throbbing with feeling, her senses shuddering with the need for fulfilment. She squirmed against him, rubbing against his touch, wanting more, so much more.
She wanted to feel his hot mouth sucking on her, to feel those white, hard teeth of his pulling on her erect nipples, to feel the rasp of his tongue on her sensitive flesh, to feel him delight in her femaleness as she was delighting in everything that made him a man: the evening shadow peppering his jaw, the insistent pressure of his mouth, the driving heat of his tongue, and the thundering pulse of his blood that left her in no doubt of his erection and the pressure for release building within him. She could feel his hardness against her, so tantalisingly close to where her body ached and pulsed with need.
Her mind began to picture him, imagining how long and thick he was. She was shocked at where her thoughts were leading her, but with his magical mouth setting hers alight and his hands shaping her so possessively she was lost to the traitorous workings of her brain.
His mouth moved from its sensual assault of hers to suckle her right breast, the moistness, the heat and fire of him making her gasp out loud. The caress of his hands on the creamy, smooth skin of her breasts had sent her pulses soaring, but the feel of his tongue rolling over her tightly budded nipple was beyond anything she had felt before. Her nerves exploded with feeling as the rasp of his tongue circled her before he drew on her with his hot, moist mouth.
Desire flooded her being, sending sparks up and down her spine, buckling her legs, loosening every ligament, until she felt as if she was going to melt into a pool at his feet. She dug her fingers into the thick thatch of his hair, holding on to anchor herself as he subjected her to even more of his earth-shattering caresses. Every nerve-ending fizzed with sensation. She was on fire for him, every atom of her being screaming for the fulfilment he was holding, tantalisingly just out of her reach.
Just when she thought she could take no more, his mouth came back to hers, swallowing her whimper of pleasure as his tongue found hers and swept it up in a dance that shook her to the core of her being. She clung to him, her body pressed so tightly against him she felt every hard ridge of him, each point of contact thrilling her beyond description. Her mind took her on another erotic journey, conjuring up images of his body naked against hers, their limbs entwined, their bodies rocking in the quest for satiation.
Almost without realising she was doing it, Sabrina slid her hands down his back, exploring the well-formed, tightly bunched muscles that even his shirt could not disguise. She went lower, underneath his jacket, to feel the tautness of his buttocks, her stomach giving a little hollow gulp when she felt him surge against her in response to her touch.
The need to feel him in her hands, to shape the hot, hard potency of his aroused body, was a temptation she suddenly could not resist. With tentative shyness her hands skimmed over his slim hips before she brushed against the front of his trousers where the fabric was stretched with the heated trajectory of his arousal. She stroked his outline, her fingertips quivering at the latent power of him. She felt him flinch, as if her touch had burned him, and a rough, primal-sounding groan sounded from deep within his throat as his mouth ground against hers with increasing fervour.
Suddenly the kiss was over.
Mario stepped back, capturing both of her shameless hands in one of his, a blade of disdain sharpening his dark-as-pitch gaze. ‘You know, that is quite some sensual repertoire you have perfected, Sabrina,’ he said. ‘I was within moments of letting you have your wicked way with me.’
Sabrina had to give herself a mental shake to reorient herself. Her senses were skyrocketing all over the place, her heart-rate galloping, her lips still throbbing and her colour at an alltime high. She lowered her gaze and, wrenching out of his hold quickly, covered herself, hating him for making her lose control in such an abandoned way. No doubt he had done it deliberately, showing how he could pick her up and put her down like a toy that amused him one minute and bored him the next.
When she finally met his gaze once more, she made sure her features were blank, even though her body was still screaming out in frustration. ‘It was just a kiss, Mario,’ she said in an offhand tone. ‘It was never going to be anything more than that.’
‘Perhaps. But if you change your mind about occupying that sofa, let me know,’ he said with a glinting smile. ‘You never know where the next kiss might lead, now, do you?’
It annoyed Sabrina that he was so clearly unaffected by what had happened just moments earlier. He showed no signs of a man pushed to the limits of physical control. Instead he looked cool and calm as if they had done nothing more than exchange a quick, platonic peck on the cheek.
She on the other hand felt completely undone; her emotions were all over the place, not one of them making any sense to her. She wasn’t in love with him, far from it, but neither was she as immune to him as she so dearly wanted to be. What was it about him that made her feel so out of sorts?
Well, maybe that wasn’t so hard to answer after all. He had ‘casual sex’ written all over him. She had known it the moment Laura had introduced her to him the day of her wedding. The memory was as clear as if it had been yesterday.
‘Just wait until you meet Ric’s best man, Mario Marcolini,’ Laura had said with a twinkling smile as she’d made a last-minute adjustment to her veil. ‘I am sure you two will get on like a house on fire.’
Sabrina had rolled her eyes as she’d handed Laura another bobby pin. ‘I hope you are not trying to match make, Laura,’ she cautioned. ‘You know how I feel about that sort of thing.’
Laura had given her a guileless look as she’d slid the pin in place. ‘I wouldn’t dream of doing any such thing. It’s just that Mario is quite a catch. He’s disgustingly rich, and now that he’s past thirty he’s surely going to be thinking about hanging up his playboy hat for something a little more substantial in terms of a relationship. You are perfect for him. It’s that “opposites attract” thing. He’s a man of the world; you are a young woman who hasn’t even been around the corner, let alone the block several times. He’s so cynical; you’re so fresh and trusting. I tell you, it’s a match made in heaven.’
Sabrina had grimaced in embarrassment. ‘Oh, please, you don’t have to keep reminding me how unsophisticated and inexperienced I am.’
Laura had given her a fond smile. ‘Don’t be so hard on yourself. Not every man these days wants an experienced temptress in the bedroom. Ric loved the fact he was my first lover. I am so glad I waited. I know it’s considered terribly old-fashioned, but I never felt I was ready before I met him. He told me it was the greatest gift I could have given him.’
Sabrina blinked herself back to the present. Mario was looking at her in that cynical way of his, probably th
inking of how he could cajole her into his bed with the crook of one finger. ‘If you want a wife in the real sense of the word, you are going to have to pay for it,’ she said, goaded beyond reasonable caution.
He gave her a mocking look as he reached inside his jacket for his wallet. He unfolded it, took out a thick wad of notes and fanned them out on the coffee table next to her like a hand of cards. ‘I hope that covers the entertainment so far,’ he said. ‘It was quite a floor show. I am looking forward to an encore.’
Sabrina glowered at him, her anger towards him like a swirling hot tide of lava inside her. ‘You think you can get whatever you want by opening your wallet, don’t you?’
His hard gaze raked her mercilessly. ‘I know I can, Sabrina,’ he drawled. ‘You, my little gold-digger, just proved it.’
Sabrina thought of several stinging retorts to hurl his way, but before she could utter even one of them he had turned on his heel and left.
The sofa in the end made quite a comfortable bed, and even though Sabrina hadn’t expected to be able to relax enough to sleep she found herself drifting off regardless. Molly was asleep in her pram nearby, and apart from the occasional snuffle she slept soundly until about four in the morning, when she began to whimper on and off.
When it was clear Molly wasn’t going to settle back down again, Sabrina turned on a lamp and changed the baby’s nappy before heating her bottle. Once Molly was fed, Sabrina sat on the sofa and gently rocked the pram with her foot to settle the baby back to sleep.
The front door opened and Mario came in, still dressed in the clothes he had been wearing earlier, although he’d pulled his shirt free from the waistband of his trousers. His hair looked as if he had run his fingers through it several times, and his jaw was heavily shadowed with stubble. Although his eyes had shadows beneath, they still contained a devilish light when they collided with hers.
‘Waiting up for me, sweet Sabrina?’ he asked.
Melanie Milburne Bestseller Collection 201209/The Marcolini Blackmail Marriage/Bound by the Marcolini Diamonds Page 23