And would again. He intended to make certain of it.
For the challenge … and for revenge.
‘Allow Nicki to know I’m a relative of Ramon. It will explain why I am escorting you both to visit him in Madrid.’
‘You think Ramon will go along with that?’
‘I know so.’
‘And Penè?’ Shannay gave a laugh of cynical disbelief.
‘Penè will conform,’ Marcello declared hardily.
‘Sure, and cows jump over the moon!’
‘Your analogy amuses me.’
‘But … apt.’
‘You seem to forget I control the Martinez finances, from which Penè is allocated a very generous contribution to suit her preferred lifestyle.’
She got it. And knew he was sufficiently ruthless to enforce the threat should his aunt choose to ignore his wishes.
‘Perhaps you’ll explain when you intend Nicki should know—’
‘I’m her father?’ Marcello intervened. ‘When the right moment occurs.’
Which possibly might not be during their few weeks in Madrid. It even seemed feasible, for she and Nicki would obviously be staying in hotel accommodation, and making daily calls to see Ramon … whose illness would preclude lengthy visits.
There would be time to show Nicki some of the cultural aspects of her paternal heritage, to explore and have fun. It would be so easy to give in. And she almost did. Except there were still matters needing clarification.
‘What’s the catch, Marcello?’
‘Why should you think there is one?’
His voice was too mild, too neutral. ‘I have reason to be wary of your motives.’
‘While I have been nothing but honest with you.’
Shannay regarded him carefully, seeing the latent power apparent, and chose to play a few cards of her own.
‘Before I’ll agree to anything,’ she voiced with quiet determination, ‘you need to furnish notarised documentation stating a custody schedule for the next two years, subject to my approval and renewable at my discretion.’
His expression didn’t change. ‘Perhaps you’ll offer some indication what arrangements you find acceptable?’
‘Nicki can spend two weeks with you, twice a year.’ It was so small a concession it was almost pathetic. ‘While you, of course, are welcome to visit her in Perth as frequently as your business interests permit.’
‘Those are your terms?’ His query was silk-smooth and almost deadly.
‘There’s one more thing. Return airline tickets in Nicki’s and my names, and accommodation for two weeks.’
‘Three.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘Three weeks. Airline tickets are unnecessary. We’ll travel in my private jet.’
She barely managed to hold back a choked laugh. How could she have neglected to remember the private jet? ‘In that case, one-way tickets from Madrid to Perth.’
‘Specify a date, and I’ll ensure the jet is available for your return.’
Shannay rose to her feet, retrieved a note to cover the cost of her latte, and slid it beneath the saucer.
A gesture of independence, she assured silently as she caught up her wallet. ‘I’ll print up a copy of everything we’ve discussed and give it to you when we meet at the park.’ She cast her watch a quick glance, and was surprised at the passage of time.
Without a further word she turned and retraced her steps to the apartment building, aware of the strange feeling in the pit of her stomach.
She’d expected Marcello to argue her terms, even dismiss them out of hand.
Why hadn’t he?
Because he’d achieved his objective … her permission for Nicki to meet Ramon Martinez, patriarch of the Martinez dynasty.
Yet she had set the boundaries.
What was more, she’d insisted on a number of specific conditions to be set down in notarised legalese. Plus Nicki’s passport would remain in Shannay’s possession for the entire sojourn, she’d make sure of that.
All contingencies taken care of, she decided with satisfaction as she printed out two copies, closed down the laptop, then she collected a cool-pack filled with fresh fruit and drinks, caught up her bag and took the lift down to basement level.
Nicki’s excitement was palpable as Shannay collected her from kindergarten and drove towards the park.
Yes, she assured, they were on time.
Yes, she’d remembered to bring a packet of sliced bread to feed the ducks.
And yes, she was sure Marcello knew where to meet them.
The park was a popular spot, and there were several couples and families relaxing on the grassy banks overlooking the water.
It was a beautiful early summer’s day, with the whisper of a breeze teasing the heavily leaf-laden trees as Shannay selected a pleasant spot and spread a picnic rug on the ground.
‘I think he’s here,’ Nicki announced breathlessly minutes later. ‘Yes, it’s him.’ She raised her arms and waved to attract his attention.
Smile, Shannay bade silently as Marcello joined them, and she buried the faint resentment at just how easily her daughter appeared to be falling beneath his spell.
As picnics went, it was a tremendous success … from Nicki’s perspective.
The best, Nicki accorded with enthusiasm as she recounted every high point … and there were many, mostly centred around Marcello.
There was no doubt about the mutual attraction developing between father and child. Nicki’s giggles and unaffected laughter testified to it. So too did the unguarded affection Marcello displayed for his daughter.
He was a natural, Shannay had to admit, unsure how she felt about their burgeoning bond.
Dammit, it had to be a good thing, she allowed as she drove to work later that afternoon.
If she repeated the words often enough, maybe she’d begin to believe them.
The signed notarised document was already in her possession, courtesy of express courier delivery. Perusal clarified it duplicated the print-out she’d handed Marcello during lunch.
Attached had been a contact name and number to expedite the issue of Nicki’s passport.
By week’s end, they should be able to leave for Madrid.
Providing she adhered to their agreement, countersigned the notarised document, signed the DNA paternity permission form, lodged the necessary passport documentation and arranged leave of absence from her place of work.
An exceedingly efficient set of suggestions offered to hasten their departure.
Instructions, Shannay corrected, under no illusion they were anything other than Marcello’s ability to use his wealth and influence to achieve his objective.
There was a part of her that understood his motives, together with a degree of sympathy for an ailing elderly man wanting to see his only great-grandchild.
She’d covered all her bases … hadn’t she?
And three weeks was hardly a lifetime.
So why did she feel this faint niggle of apprehension?
It stayed with her as she worked, although she deliberately consigned it to the back of her mind as she gave her full attention to dispensing prescriptions, greeting and conversing with patients and customers frequenting the pharmacy.
There was the usual early-evening rush, followed by a lull, during which she had the opportunity to request a leave of absence.
John Bennett, the owner of the pharmacy who was both employer and friend, paused from his task of checking stock and gave Shannay his full attention.
‘This is a bit sudden. Care to provide the reason?’
Shannay offered the bare minimum, aware he filled in the blanks himself.
‘You consider this a wise move, Shannay?’
John was a nice man, caring and pleasant to work with. He also wanted to date her … something she refused to do. She liked him, but … and it was the but that mattered.
Friendship was fine, but not a relationship. With John, it could only be the latter and she
wouldn’t contemplate taking that step.
‘It’s an amicable one.’ At least I’m being led to believe it is, she added silently. ‘And I’ve taken precautionary protective measures.’
‘Such as?’
Shannay crossed to her bag, extracted the notarised agreement and handed it to him, watchful of his expression as he read the contents.
‘You want my honest opinion?’
‘Of course.’
John folded the paperwork and passed it back to her.
‘My main concern is whether, if contested, it would stand up in a court of law.’ He paused. ‘Do you trust him?’
Trust encompassed much. ‘With Nicki’s welfare. Yes.’
‘And with yours?’ he persisted quietly.
I don’t know. ‘It’s only three weeks, John.’
‘If you’re sure.’
Sure? How could she be sure of anything that involved Marcello? They had a chequered history, one of extreme highs and lows.
A roller-coaster ride, she added silently, and stilled the sensual curl threatening to unfurl deep within her memory of what they’d shared … during the good times.
The evening followed its usual pattern, with a busy period as the nearby cinema-plex emptied and the occasional parent desperate for nursery supplies made a hurried trip to the dispensary.
It was almost closing time when the electronic door buzzer announced a last-minute arrival. Shannay checked the security-cam, and felt the breath catch in her throat as she saw Marcello moving towards the counter.
Gone were the chinos and collarless shirt he’d worn during the day. Tailored trousers, an open-necked shirt and jacket adorned his strong masculine body.
‘I’ll close up.’
Shannay heard John’s words, and quickly turned towards him, then she gathered herself together sufficiently to effect an introduction.
‘What are you doing here, and why now?’ she asked quietly as John moved towards the front entrance.
‘Whatever happened to hello?’ Marcello drawled, watching as she efficiently checked data on the computer, then closed down.
‘You were in the area and thought you’d call in?’ She lifted an eyebrow. ‘Or primarily to collect paperwork which I have yet to sign?’
‘Both,’ he concurred smoothly. ‘I’m sure John won’t object to witnessing your signature.’
Shannay was tempted to provide further delaying tactics, just for the hell of it. Except such an action would be retaliatory and pointless.
It didn’t take long, and Marcello slid the paperwork into his jacket pocket, then waited while she pulled on a jacket and caught up her bag.
She didn’t particularly want him to accompany her out into the cool night air.
He … affected her, and she wasn’t comfortable with it. Any more than she felt at ease witnessing John’s silent reticence in Marcello’s presence.
There shouldn’t be this faintly breathless sense of sexual energy attacking the fragile tenure of her control.
It made her feel slightly off-balance, aware of him at some tenuous level that threatened to shift the foundations she’d fought so hard to cement during the past few years.
Crazy, she dismissed. She was tired, that was all, and tense. Worse, she was allowing her imagination to run riot.
She shot him a cursory look as they reached the front of the pharmacy. ‘I have my own car.’
‘You object to me ensuring you reach it safely?’
His mild query elicited a faintly derisive dismissal. ‘You’re being ridiculous.’
They walked out into darkness where illumination was provided by distant streetlights and a sickle moon.
He was too close. Within touching distance, and the faint aroma of his cologne teased her senses, together with the male scent that was his alone.
Her car was parked in full view, and she deactivated the alarm, paused as Marcello opened the door, then she quickly slid in behind the wheel.
He held the door and leaned down towards her. ‘I’ll be in touch.’
Shannay inclined her head, fired the engine and sent the sedan out onto the road in the direction of home.
CHAPTER FIVE
THE LUXURIOUSLY FITTED Gulf Stream jet cruised at a diminishing altitude as it began its descent to Barajas Airport.
A long flight, during which Shannay had plenty of time to reflect … and wonder for the umpteenth time why she’d agreed to leave the relative security of her own territory for a city in a country which held so many conflicting memories for her, not all of them good.
Carlo’s presence helped ease the intimacy of so few passengers sharing the cabin, and he was a pleasant man in his early forties, tall, whipcord-lean and alert in a way that behoved his position.
It will be fine, she silently reassured.
She was in control, she’d covered every contingency, and this was only a very temporary visit to Madrid.
Nicki travelled well, in awe of her surroundings, the flight, and was almost heartbreakingly willing to please.
Marcello had become Nicki’s new best friend during the week it had taken to confirm his paternity and complete travel documentation.
There had been only one awkward moment when Nicki had asked Marcello in childish innocence, ‘Are you my uncle?’
‘I’m related to the Spanish side of your family,’ he’d responded gently, and solemn young eyes viewed him with unblinking regard.
‘Do you know my daddy?’
‘Yes, I do.’
‘Will I meet him?’
Oh, dear heaven, don’t. Not now, not yet, Shannay silently beseeched.
‘I can promise you will.’
The undisguised rapport they shared had to be a good thing, Shannay constantly reminded herself as she bit down her reaction to the gentle patience he displayed with their daughter.
It made her think of other times when she had delighted in the touch of his hand, his warm smile … and his love.
For it had been love in all its various facets, when she’d believed nothing could rend it asunder.
Yet it had, and being in his company, returning to Madrid, brought everything back into vivid focus.
She could deal with it. She had to, for Nicki’s sake.
Her daughter’s happiness, contentment and security were paramount.
So … get over it.
The jet touched down smoothly, completed the allotted runway, then slid into a designated bay where they disembarked, Marcello dealt with their baggage and formalities before directing them to a waiting limousine bearing the discreet but influential Martinez emblem.
Madrid temperatures in October were not too dissimilar to the early-summer temperatures in Perth. A pleasant time of year in both cities, neither too hot nor too cold.
Shannay saw Nicki seated in the centre of the rear seat, then slid in beside her, aware Marcello gained access on Nicki’s right.
He’d showered, shaved and changed clothes during the flight, so too had she, and, while she’d lain down with Nicki in the bedroom compartment, sleep had come only in brief snatches.
The drive into the city’s heart would take slightly less than half an hour. She had little concern about Marcello’s choice of hotel accommodation … only an impending sense of relief that their arrival would provide escape from his company at least until the next day.
He might be accustomed to changing time zones on a regular basis, but both she and Nicki were not.
Madrid, a city of splendid architecture, combining a fascinating mix of the old and modern, the cacophony of sounds, traffic, voices in a language she hadn’t heard spoken in almost four years.
Shannay felt the light press of Nicki’s fingers curled within her own, and examined her daughter’s features as she took intent interest in the passing scene beyond the lightly tinted windows.
‘It’s different,’ Nicki said tentatively.
‘The traffic travels in the opposite way from where you live. Soon it will become familiar,�
� he assured, and met Shannay’s faintly lifted eyebrow.
In a three-week time-frame? I don’t think so.
A faint smile tugged the edges of his mouth as he transferred his attention to Nicki. ‘Not much longer, pequena, and we will be there.’
Nicki regarded him solemnly. ‘What did you call me?’
‘Pequena,’ he said gently. ‘It’s an affectionate name for a little girl.’
She tried it out, copying his intonation, and his smile broadened with gentle warmth as he complimented her, resulting in a beam of childish delight.
They were bonding well … and that had to be a good thing, Shannay accepted. So why did it hurt so much?
She met his gaze, attempted to read his expression, failed miserably, and transferred her attention to the scene beyond the limousine window.
Marcello did enigmatic very well.
What did she expect? For his expressed warmth towards her in Nicki’s presence to contain a grain of genuine emotion?
Please.
She didn’t feel a thing for him. Did she?
Whatever was causing her heart to quicken its beat, or the butterflies having a ball in her stomach, was merely tension. The stress of ensuring Nicki’s emotional welfare remained on an even keel.
Nearly four years’ absence had wrought few changes, and a slight frown creased her forehead when the limousine branched off the main arterial route leading into the city.
It took a few kilometres for her tension to escalate as suspicion finally dawned.
No. Please, please let me be wrong.
Shannay kept her voice light, when inwardly she was beginning to silently seethe. ‘Where are you taking us, Marcello?’
‘My home in La Moraleja.’
She shot him a look that inaudibly expressed you have to be joking. ‘A hotel suite would be more convenient.’
‘Ensuring difficulty in enforcing necessary security measures.’
His voice held a degree of steely purpose she couldn’t fail to recognise … as he had meant her to.
Her eyes sparked anger as they clashed with his, and if she could have hit him, she’d have lashed out and to hell with the consequences.
The Helen Bianchin Collection Page 71