Mario brushed the pad of his thumb across her bottom lip, surprised yet again at how soft her mouth was. A tight little silence pulsed for a beat or two.
‘Are you still sore?’ he asked hollowly.
She shook her head. ‘Please, Mario, don’t make a fuss about it. It was my fault for not telling you.’
Mario got to his feet, raking his hand through his hair as he paced the floor. ‘Maybe—but if you had told me do you think I would have believed you?’ he said in self-disgust. ‘I would probably have laughed at you, Sabrina, and carried on regardless.’
‘I don’t believe that,’ she said in a soft voice. ‘I don’t believe you would have forced me to do anything I didn’t want to do.’
He turned to face her, his expression grim. ‘I forced you to marry me.’
She gave a little shrug of her slim shoulders. ‘For Molly’s sake—yes.’
He blew out a breath. ‘The thing is, Sabrina, I can’t undo what has been done, not yet, at least. You deserve much better than this.’
Sabrina hugged her knees again. ‘I’m not sure what you are saying.’
His eyes were very dark as they meshed with hers. ‘Why did you let me make love to you earlier this evening?’ he asked.
‘I’m not sure.’ Her teeth sank into her lip again.
‘It can not happen again,’ he said. ‘You do understand that, don’t you?’
Sabrina didn’t want to examine why her chest suddenly felt so tight. The thorn was back in her throat, making it hard for her to speak past it. ‘If that’s what you want.’
He muttered a coarse swear-word as he began to pace the floor again. ‘What I want is immaterial. Molly needs us both, and we will have to stay married for the time being to keep her out of the clutches of the Knowles, who will no doubt push for custody if we suddenly announce our separation.’
Sabrina could see the sense in what he was saying even though a part of her—the feminine, romantic part of her—was already starting to play with the fanciful scenario of him falling in love with her and asking her to be his wife for real.
Love?
She mentally flinched. Was she in love with him? She had never been in love before but she imagined it would feel exactly like this. Her stomach felt hollow, her heart felt like it was being squeezed between two book-ends and her body was burning for more of his touch.
She chided herself for being so foolish. It was clear he was no longer attracted to her now he knew she was so inexperienced. Some men were like that. They didn’t want to spend time tutoring a novice; they would much rather have an experienced lover in their bed. If not his current mistress, no doubt he would find someone else to entertain him during the course of their marriage, maybe even several women. As much as it pained her all she could hope for was that he would be discreet—although that seemed unlikely, given the press’s fascination with anything Mario did and who he did it with.
‘You are very quiet,’ he said. ‘Do you not agree we should remain married?’
Sabrina pasted a bland expression on her face. ‘I just want to do what is best for Molly.’
‘Good,’ he said, blowing out a breath. ‘That is settled, then.’
Another silence began to suck at the air in the room.
Sabrina held her breath as he came back to where she was sitting on the bed. Her stomach did a crazy little somersault when he brushed the back of his knuckles down the curve of her cheek, his eyes holding hers like the powerful beam of a searchlight. She hoped he couldn’t see what she was so desperately trying to hide. If she blurted her feelings to him, now how would he interpret it? He had said at the start he would not take seriously any avowals of love. How she had scoffed at the thought; was it only a day or so ago? What a bitter irony to find herself so deeply in love with him. How had it happened, and so quickly? Was it his deep, dark eyes that had unlocked her heart? Or was it his mouth, the way it kissed her with such potent passion? Or was it the way his touch set fire to her skin, making every pore pucker in excitement?
‘I am sorry for hurting you,’ he said in a low, deep voice that sounded as if it had been dragged across coarse gravel. ‘I will do my best to make it up to you.’
Sabrina could barely get her voice to work. ‘You don’t have to do anything, Mario.’ Just love me, because I think I’m falling in love with you, she added silently.
He bent forward and pressed a soft, chaste kiss to the middle of her forehead, making her feel about three years old. ‘Buonanotte, Sabrina,’ he said softly.
Sabrina waited until the door had closed behind him before she let out her tightly held breath.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
Over the next few days Sabrina began to see a softening in the housekeeper’s attitude towards her. She could only assume Mario had somehow reversed Giovanna’s opinion of her as a gold-digger, for the housekeeper had gradually dropped her surliness and had even offered to help Sabrina learn Italian, with limited success.
Sabrina saw very little of Mario, however, just briefly in the mornings when she first got up to tend to Molly and last thing at night when he came home from his office well past dinner. He was polite but distant, asking her about her day and what Molly was up to, but he mentioned nothing personal. It was as if he was building a wall around himself, keeping her on the other side of it. It made her wonder if he had already hooked back up with his model mistress. All the clues were there: the late nights, the slightly ruffled look of his clothes and appearance when he did finally come home, and his stiff formality when speaking to her.
Sabrina constantly berated herself for falling for him. It showed just how naïve she was to have let that one foray into sensuality turn over her heart. He had probably put the whole episode out of his mind by now. He would not be torturing himself over what could have been if things were different between them.
On Friday afternoon while Molly was having a nap Giovanna informed Sabrina there was a delivery of goods for her. ‘It is from Signore Marcolini,’ she said. ‘I think you will be very happy with what he has bought for you.’
Sabrina stood to one side as the courier brought in bag after bag of designer clothes. There were evening dresses, shoes, handbags and evening bags, a range of separates and even some gossamer-fine lingerie. She fingered each item once the courier had left, marvelling at the exquisite fabrics, wondering who Mario had asked for help in selecting such a fabulous wardrobe. While she was grateful for his generosity, she couldn’t quite shake off the feeling that he wanted to remodel her into the sort of glamourous wife people would expect a man of his standing to have by his side. Clearly her chain-store clothes and decade-old shoes were not going to cut it. It made her feel tawdry and mousy, like a common sparrow being dressed up as a rare and exotic colourful bird.
‘Signore Marcolini will be home early this evening,’ Giovanna said when Sabrina came into the salon carrying Molly in her arms later that evening. ‘He just called to say he would be here for dinner.’
Sabrina felt another twinge of pique that he hadn’t asked to speak to her personally, but pushed it aside to smile at the housekeeper. ‘That is nice,’ she said. ‘Would you like some help with preparing the meal?’
Giovanna looked shocked. ‘No, no, no! I am the housekeeper—you are his wife, sì?’
Sabrina put Molly down on the rug so she could kick her little legs. ‘You know very well I am not really his wife,’ she said with a despondent sigh. ‘Not apart from on paper. We don’t even share a bedroom.’
Giovanna knelt down beside her to tickle Molly under the chin. ‘You are his wife, Signora Marcolini,’ she said, still looking at the baby. ‘He just does not realise it yet.’
Sabrina turned her head to look at her. ‘I think he has a lover,’ she said, trying not to choke up.
Giovanna got to her feet in a matter-of-fact manner. ‘Rich Italian men often have mistresses,’ she said. ‘It means nothing.’
‘It means something to me,’ Sabrina returned. ‘I don�
�t want to share him with someone else.’
‘Perhaps you would not be sharing him with someone else if you were seeing to his needs yourself,’ Giovanna pointed out.
Sabrina felt her cheeks ripen with colour. She turned to look at Molly, and resumed idling playing with her tiny feet. ‘We don’t have that sort of relationship. It’s not what he wants.’
‘Has he told you that?’
‘Pretty much.’
Giovanna folded her arms across her ample chest. ‘I see the way he looks at you, Signora Marcolini. Maybe you need to make the first move, sì?’
Sabrina felt herself quake at the thought. What if he rejected her? How would she bear it? She would feel an even bigger fool to have him spurn her clumsy, awkward advances.
‘Ah, that is him now,’ Giovanna said as the sound of the front door closing echoed through the palazzo.
The housekeeper bustled out and within a few moments Mario came in. He reached up to loosen his tie, shrugging himself out of his suit jacket, his smile as he saw Molly kicking and giggling on the floor totally transforming his face. ‘Come è il mio piccolo prezioso ragazza?’ he asked, flinging his jacket aside. ‘How is my precious little girl?’
Molly cooed at him in delight, kicking her legs all the harder, her tiny starfish hands waving in the air. Mario scooped her up from the floor and kissed her on both cheeks, before turning to face Sabrina. ‘Did you get the clothes I sent you?’
Sabrina raised her chin. ‘There are lovely. Thank you. You must have spent a fortune.’
He held her gaze for a pulsing moment. ‘If you do not like anything in the collection it can always be returned,’ he said. ‘It will not offend me, I can assure you.’
Pride stiffened her spine a little more. ‘I am not used to having someone select my clothes for me.’
He continued to hold her look. ‘You are angry, cara.’
Sabrina blinked at the endearment, her heart giving a jerky kick of surprise inside her chest. ‘No—no, I’m not. It’s just I … Some of the things you bought are very personal, and I …’
‘Did I get the size right?’ he asked before she could finish.
‘Yes.’ She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her face still burning at the thought of those lovely lacy bras and barely there knickers he had chosen for her.
‘I have something else for you,’ he said. ‘It is in my jacket pocket.’
She glanced at his jacket where it was hanging lopsidedly over the back of one of the sofas. ‘W-what is it?’
‘Go and see.’
Sabrina stepped past him to pick up his jacket. She could feel his body warmth still clinging to it, and his particular male smell. She felt tempted to hold the fabric up to her face to breathe in the essence of him, but stopped herself just in time. Instead she reached inside one of the pockets and found a velvet-covered ring box. She brought it out, her heart thumping wildly as she met his gaze.
‘Open it,’ he said.
She opened it with careful fingers, her eyes going wide when she saw the two-ring ensemble inside. Diamonds and white gold sparkled back at her brilliantly. She had never seen anything quite so beautiful before. It made her chain-store costume-jewellery collection look like fairground trinkets in comparison.
‘Like the clothes, I had to take a guess on your ring size,’ he said into the silence. ‘If they don’t fit the jeweller will adjust them for you.’
Sabrina took the rings out with meticulous care, sliding each one easily over the knuckles of her ring finger.
‘They are too loose,’ he observed.
‘Not by much,’ she said, looking up at him shyly.
His eyes held hers for an infinitesimal moment, his expression difficult to read, although his voice when he spoke sounded gruff. ‘You are far smaller than I realised. I should have known after the other night.’
She lowered her gaze as she examined the rings on her finger. ‘They are truly beautiful.’ She looked up at him again. ‘I have never had anything quite so beautiful before.’
‘I had it specially designed using diamonds from the Marcolini collection.’
Sabrina looked back at the exquisite rings on her finger, thinking wryly of how willingly she had dived into his bed without the lure of priceless diamonds. Was he thinking the same? she wondered as she glanced back at him.
He transferred Molly to his other arm, holding her with casual ease as if he had been taking care of infants all of his life. ‘I have made some enquiries about a nanny for Molly,’ he said.
Sabrina felt her scalp prickle in apprehension. She feared once a nanny was firmly established in Molly’s life there would be no need for her any more. Had the clothes and rings he had given her been part of a consolation prize to make her go away without a fuss?
‘Do we need a nanny?’ she asked. ‘It’s not as if I have anything I would rather do with my time.’
Mario cradled Molly’s head against his chest with one of his large hands. ‘Some of my business associates are keen to meet you.’
‘They could meet me here,’ she offered. ‘We don’t have to go out to entertain. I could help Giovanna with the meal. I’ve done some gourmet cooking courses, and—’
‘What is the problem, Sabrina?’ he asked, looking at her intently.
Sabrina lowered her gaze again. ‘I am not sure I can be all that convincing as a pretend wife. I have the clothes and the rings, but I’m not sure that’s really going to be enough to convince anyone.’
‘It will have to be enough,’ he said, drawing in a breath. ‘The press have already announced our union. We will be expected to be out and about like any other recently married couple. I have an important business dinner scheduled for tomorrow evening. People will start to ask questions if you are not there with me.’
She began to twist her hands together. ‘But who is going to look after Molly?’ she asked. ‘We can’t leave her with a total stranger.’
‘Giovanna will stay overnight,’ Mario said. ‘She has several grandchildren of her own, so she is used to babies. I am sure she will have no trouble for three or four hours while we are out.’
Sabrina looked at Molly, who had fallen asleep against his broad chest. No wonder the little baby felt so safe and secure in his arms. He was such a big man, tall and strong, and yet surprisingly gentle when the need for it arose. How she longed to feel him touch her again, to tantalise her with his mouth, to captivate her senses until she could think of nothing but how he made her feel. Her body craved him; even now she could feel the pining of her flesh, the nerves so sensitive to his nearness they were making her skin feel too tight for her frame. Her breasts ached for his touch, the graze of his teeth and the sweep of his tongue. Her inner core had stopped hurting days ago, but she missed that tender, intimate reminder of how he had so briefly possessed her. He had been so kind and considerate afterwards, so apologetic it had made it impossible for her not to fall in love with him.
‘I think this little girl is ready for bed,’ Mario said, carefully handing her back to Sabrina.
She took the sleeping baby from him, her heart racing like a Formula One engine as one of his hands inadvertently brushed against her breast. Her eyes met his for a beat or two before she lowered them to the child in her arms. ‘You are very good with her, Mario,’ she said. She lifted her gaze back to his. ‘She is lucky to have such a wonderful guardian.’
A shadow passed through his dark eyes, like strong sunlight blocked by the passing of thick clouds. ‘She would have been much better off with her real parents,’ he said. ‘There is no substitute for the real thing, is there?’
‘No, I guess you are right,’ Sabrina said on the back of a sigh. She had often wondered what it would have been like to have a father, especially after her mother had been taken from her when she’d been so young. She had often dreamt of what he would look like, how he would sound and the things he might say to her if they ever met. Why he had not stayed to support her mother she would never know. She ha
d been too young to ask, and now it was too late. When she had seen the words “father unknown” on her birth certificate it had felt like an arrow piercing her heart. It was so hard to accept she didn’t belong to anyone. She wondered now if she ever would belong to anyone. Mario had made it pretty clear he was only interested in a temporary arrangement, but how she longed for things to be different.
When she came back downstairs after putting Molly to bed, Mario was mixing himself a drink at the bar in the salon. He turned as she came into the room. ‘Would you like an aperitif?’
‘Just tonic water, no gin. Thank you,’ she said as she sat on the edge of one of the sofas.
He gave her an ironic look as he handed her the glass of tonic water. ‘Keeping a clear head, cara?’ he asked.
Sabrina took the glass with fingers that felt as if the nerves had been severed. ‘Why do you keep calling me that when there is no one around to hear you?’
‘Does it bother you?’
She pressed her lips together and looked at the cubes of ice rattling in her glass. ‘Not really. It just seems a little unnecessary.’
‘I do not find it unnecessary,’ he said. ‘It is all part of the act, no?’
Sabrina met his satirical gaze. ‘How are people ever going to believe you chose someone like me to be your wife?’ she asked.
He took a leisurely sip of his drink before he answered. ‘You underestimate your charms, Sabrina. You are a very beautiful young woman. I have always thought so, right from the first moment we met.’
She couldn’t hold back a churlish retort. ‘You thought I was a gold-digger.’
His mouth momentarily tightened. ‘And I was wrong. I have apologised, Sabrina. I can do no more.’
She crossed her legs, cradling her drink in both hands in case she spilt it. ‘If you thought I was so beautiful, why did you feel the need to revamp my wardrobe?’
His eyes warred with hers for a tense moment. ‘I can see that has become somewhat of an issue with you,’ he said. ‘Believe it or not, I was trying to help you. I would imagine it is not easy shopping with a small infant in tow. But, since you don’t appreciate the gesture, I will have everything taken back. I will arrange for you to have your own credit card with maximum credit.’
Melanie Milburne Bestseller Collection 201209/The Marcolini Blackmail Marriage/Bound by the Marcolini Diamonds Page 26