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CHAPTER THREE

MARCELLO.

With one hand resting in his trouser pocket, the casual stance portrayed studied indolence … a look she knew to be misleading, for it bore the stamp of a predator awaiting the opportunity to strike.

For a wild second she considered turning back towards the lift. Except she refused to give him the satisfaction.

Besides, it was paramount she collect Nicki from kindergarten.

He wanted a confrontation? She’d darned well give him one!

Shannay lifted her chin and fixed him with a determined look … which presumably had little or no effect, for his position remained unchanged as she drew close.

Her shoulders lifted, she straightened her back and she fearlessly met his dark, almost black eyes.

OK, so she’d start out being civil. ‘Marcello.’

‘Shannay.’

The timbre of his faintly accented voice curled round her nerve-ends and tugged … much to her dismay. She didn’t want to be affected by him, nor did she want any reminder of what they’d shared.

Which was a travesty, given the fact that they had Nicki’s existence as living proof!

‘This is a private car park.’

One eyebrow slanted in open mockery. ‘Next, you’ll ask how I accessed entry.’

‘I don’t have time for idle conversation.’ She made a point of checking her watch.

‘Then we should get straight to the point.’

His drawled response rankled, and she determinedly ignored the icy chill scudding the length of her spine.

‘Which is?’ As if she didn’t know!

Eyes as dark as sin became hard and implacable. ‘My daughter.’

His raking appraisal was unsettling, and she made a concentrated effort to strengthen her resolve.

‘The father is not listed on her birth certificate.’

A protective choice at the time, and, she had to admit, motivated by an act of defiance.

‘I’ve accessed hospital records,’ Marcello enlightened with deadly softness. ‘Nicki was born full-term. Which narrows down the time of her conception to around six weeks before you left Madrid.’

She knew what was coming, and she closed her eyes as if the action would prevent the damning words he would inevitably relay.

‘I’ve authorised a DNA paternity test through a private biolab.’ He waited a beat. ‘They have my sample, and require one from Nicki, preferably within the next twenty-four hours.’ A muscle bunched at his jaw. ‘I have the requisite paperwork for you to sign.’

She wanted to hit him … hard, preferably where it would hurt the most.

‘No.’ Her voice was terse as she battled with her anger, and his eyes hardened.

‘You refuse permission?’

‘Yes, damn you!’

‘Then I file for custody, and it gets ugly.’

The chilling finality in his voice succeeded in sending a wave of fear washing through Shannay’s body.

He could command the finest legal brains in the country to present a case in his favour.

No surprise there. It was a measure of the man to ensure every detail was in place before he struck.

‘You bastard.’

One eyebrow lifted in a gesture of deliberate cynicism. ‘No descriptive adjectives, Shannay?’

‘Too many,’ she owned grimly, hating him more than she’d hated anyone in her life.

‘Your call. You have twenty-four hours to provide me with your decision.’

Her eyes sparked dark fire. ‘Go to hell, Marcello.’

He extracted a card and held it out to her. ‘My cellphone number. Call me.’

‘Not in this millennium.’

The atmosphere between them became so highly charged it threatened to ignite.

Marcello’s eyebrow slanted in visible mockery. ‘Perhaps you should reconsider, given I’m aware of your address, Nicki’s kindergarten, the park you both frequently visit.’ His expression didn’t change. ‘Shall I go on?’

Consternation filled her at the thought he might appear unannounced at any of those places … the effect he would have without suitable introduction and explanation.

‘You’d do that?’ Shannay demanded, stricken at the mere thought. ‘Frighten, even abduct her?’

‘Mierda.’ His voice was husky with anger, his features a hard mask. ‘What kind of man do you think I am?’

She thought she knew once. Now too much was at stake for her to even hazard a guess.

‘I intend to meet her, spend some time in her company.’ Chilling bleak eyes trapped hers. ‘Accept it’s going to happen, Shannay.’ His pause was imperceptible. ‘One way or another.’

He was giving her a choice, that much was clear … The easy way, or via a legal minefield.

She momentarily closed her eyes against the sight of him, hating the position he was placing her in.

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him to go to hell, and be damned.

For herself, she didn’t care. But she was fiercely protective of her daughter, and she’d tread over hot coals before she’d willingly expose Nicki to anything that would upset or destroy her trust.

‘You’re a ruthless son-of-a-bitch.’ Her voice was filled with bitterness, and he merely inclined his head.

‘So what else is new?’

‘Nicki is mine. I chose to carry her, give birth to her.’ Her eyes blazed with pent-up emotion. ‘I was the one to nurture and love her.’

A muscle tensed close to his jaw. ‘You denied me the opportunity to be there.’

‘We were through!’

‘You opted out.’

The correction hurt. ‘Instead of staying to fight for you?’ She offered a dismissive gesture and her voice became husky.

‘Please. I hit my head against a figurative brick wall at every turn. In the end, your mistress and your family won.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘You were my wife.’

The ‘were’ did it, and her chin tilted as she flung him a look of blazing defiance. ‘Fat lot of difference that made.’

‘I gave my vow of fidelity,’ he reminded with pitiless disregard, watching the conflicting emotions chase fleetingly across her expressive features.

Shannay didn’t want to think of their wedding day, or the days and weeks that had followed when everything in their world had seemed perfect. Until reality intervened, insidiously at first, until she was forced to recognise the manipulative calculation of planned destruction.

‘Empty words, Marcello?’

‘This is old ground, is it not? Now there is a more pressing matter to be resolved.’

Nicki.

Shannay felt pain shaft through her body, and her features became strained.

‘Where would you prefer to meet?’ he pursued hardily. ‘The kindergarten or your apartment?’

Dear heaven, no. ‘Not the kindergarten.’ Her mind scrambled for a compromise.

Nor the apartment. She couldn’t bear to have him invade her sanctuary, her space, where he’d assume control and she’d have to sacrifice her own in Nicki’s presence … or risk a situation which would alarm her daughter.

Lunch. She could do lunch. Somewhere child-friendly that Nicki was familiar with, and they’d keep it short and sweet … the shorter the better.

She named a venue and stated a time. ‘Tomorrow,’ she added, and saw his mouth tighten.

‘Today.’

‘No,’ she said firmly. She needed to assume some form of control in the situation.

His gaze seemed to bore into hers. ‘Today, Shannay. Twelve-thirty.’ He paused imperceptibly, and his voice became deadly quiet. ‘Be there.’

Today. Tomorrow. What was the difference? How would twenty-four hours change anything?

Marcello was here. And now she had no recourse but to deal with the situation.

‘If—if,’ she stressed, ‘I agree, there would need to be conditions.’

‘Such as?’

A pulse beat fast at the base of her throat, a visible sign of her inner turmoil.

Marcello regarded her steadily, noting the darkness of her eyes, the faint shadows beneath, and her pale features.

It would seem she hadn’t slept any better than he, and there was a certain satisfaction to be had in that.

‘As far as Nicki is concerned, you’re just—’ she hesitated, aware friend wasn’t the word she wanted to use ‘—someone I know.’

Marcello felt like shaking her, and barely controlled the need. ‘And when the paternity test reveals otherwise?’

Shannay’s features whitened dramatically. She really didn’t want to go there … at least, not until she had to. She checked her watch, and felt her stomach curl with apprehension. ‘I have to leave now, Marcello.’ Even if the traffic lights were in her favour, she was going to be late picking Nicki up.

Marcello straightened and extracted a set of keys. ‘I’ll follow at a discreet distance.’

Her eyes flared. ‘Because you don’t trust me?’

‘It’s a more simple process than consulting a map.’

Without a further word he crossed to a sleek sedan and slid in behind the wheel.

The sound of the car’s engine igniting galvanised Shannay into action, and she quickly copied him as she sent her car onto street level.

Dammit, she silently fumed. Who did he think he was?

A man who made his own rules and expected others to abide by them, she conceded grimly.

Nicki was waiting with a carer when Shannay entered the kindergarten, and she offered an apology, gave Nicki a reassuring hug, then she elicited a brief update on the morning before catching hold of her daughter’s hand as she led the way out towards the car.

She deliberately didn’t glance towards the street to check if Marcello’s sedan was parked in the vicinity.

‘We’re going out for a while.’ She kept her voice light, bright, as she attempted to still the nervous tension spiralling through her body.

‘To the park?’ Nicki queried hopefully. ‘Can we feed the ducks?’

Shannay fervently wished such a simple pleasure as eating a packed lunch in the park formed part of the day as she lifted Nicki into her booster seat and secured the safety fastenings.

She leaned in close and dropped a light kiss on her daughter’s nose. ‘After lunch, on the way home,’ she promised, aware there was no better time than now to impart whom they were meeting and why.

‘A friend of mine is visiting from Spain, and he’s invited us to share lunch with him.’ She smoothed a hand over Nicki’s hair and summoned a smile. ‘Won’t that be fun?’

Oh, sure, and little pink pigs should sprout wings and fly!

How could she state this man is your father?

Worse, voice her deepest fear …

Traffic was light, and she fought the temptation to take the route back to her apartment. Only the knowledge Marcello would seek her out and make the situation incredibly more difficult than it already was ensured she drove to the restaurant.

Taking a circuitous route was a minor act of defiance.

Did he know? Possibly. Although he gave no indication as she effected an introduction … and watched dry-mouthed as Marcello hunkered down to Nicki’s eye level.

Shannay stood tense and incredibly protective … anxious to the point of paranoia over her daughter’s reaction to the man who posed such a potent threat to their existence.

Quite what she expected, she wasn’t sure.

She was intently aware of Marcello, but it was Nicki who held her undivided attention.

Outgoing, polite and friendly, Nicki regarded Marcello with wide-eyed unblinking solemnity. Weighing him up with the innocence of youth, reserving judgement until instinct dismissed an initial wariness and a smile curved her mouth.

‘Hello. I’m Nicki.’ Unbidden, a small hand extended in formal greeting, and with great care Marcello enfolded it within his own.

Hearts didn’t melt, stomachs didn’t really perform somersaults … but it sure felt like hers did both as conflicting emotions took hold with unsettling reality.

Father and child.

There was a part of her that wanted to encapsulate the moment for safe-keeping … for Nicki, she assured herself silently.

The venue proved eminently suitable, the food pleasantly presented and palatable. Not, Shannay mused, what her estranged husband was used to, but perfect for a young child.

It was difficult to summon light laughter and appear relaxed and at ease, when inside she’d have given anything for Marcello to be anywhere but here.

Maintaining the pretence of friendship proved to be a strain, and she battled emotional turmoil at the developing rapport between father and child.

Why shouldn’t Nicki be entranced by the man her mother had introduced as friend? The mere appellation sanctioned approval, and heaven knew Marcello possessed innate charm when he chose to employ it.

And he did, with an ease Shannay could only reluctantly admire, whilst silently hating him for capturing her daughter’s innocent heart.

‘We’re going to stop and feed the ducks on the way home,’ Nicki announced as Marcello took care of the bill.

Shannay’s offer to contribute her share merely incurred a telling glance, and she accepted his refusal with grace.

‘That sounds like fun,’ Marcello said gently, and Nicki laughed with delight.

‘You can come, too, if you like.’

Please don’t, Shannay silently begged. Lunch was enough. If she had to spend any more time in his company, it would be way too much.

He pocketed his wallet and gave Nicki his whole attention. ‘I have another appointment this afternoon. But I’d like to watch you feed the ducks another day.’

‘Tomorrow?’

Marcello spared Shannay a glance. ‘If it’s all right with your mother?’

Thanks for putting me in such an invidious position! A refusal would be petty, and disappoint her daughter. Besides, she was damned if she’d give Marcello the satisfaction.

She summoned a smiling assent. ‘Tomorrow’s fine.’ A short sojourn, then she’d plead the need to take Nicki home.

‘Perhaps we could share a picnic lunch.’

Nicki clapped her hands together in delight. ‘I love picnics.’

If looks could kill, Marcello mused, he’d be dead. Although he had to concede Shannay covered it well. As to his daughter—his, without a shred of doubt—he was hard-pressed not to scoop her into his arms.

He’d expected to feel a connection, even a degree of affection. But this deep encompassing bond surprised him completely.

Marcello copied Shannay’s actions and rose to his feet. His gaze skimmed her averted features and settled on bright, innocent brown eyes. ‘We have a date.’

‘A date,’ Nicki repeated as she reached for her mother’s hand, unaware of the tension simmering between the two adults.

OK, so you’re in the minority here, Shannay conceded silently, and wanted to cry foul. It wasn’t fair of Marcello to manipulate a child.

But then Marcello was ruthless when in pursuit of what he wanted … and he wanted Nicki.

They exited the restaurant and crossed to the adjoining car park.

‘Thank you for lunch.’ She could do polite, as an essential example in good manners. She caught the faint gleam apparent in his eyes, and determinedly ignored it.

He extracted a slim envelope from his suit-jacket pocket and handed it to her. ‘The permission form. Sign and return it to me tomorrow.’

The DNA paternity test.

She could stall him.

How long? A few days … a week?

If she refused and he was forced to travel the legal route …

‘Don’t,’ Marcello cautioned quietly.

How was it possible for one small word to hold such a wealth of meaning?

Supremely conscious of Nicki’s interested attention, she slid the envelope into her bag, proffered a superficial smile and led Nicki to the car, aware of his presence as she settled her daughter safely in the rear seat.

‘See you tomorrow,’ Nicki bade as Marcello opened the door to allow Shannay to slide in behind the wheel.

His mouth parted in a warm smile that skimmed lightly over Nicki’s trusting features and settled briefly on her own.

For a few interminable seconds she was caught in the thrall of remembered chemistry. Jolted by the sensuality that coursed through her veins, unbidden, electric … and definitely unwanted.

It had been there, simmering beneath the surface from the moment she’d heard his voice. Seeing him, sharing his company only made it worse.

For she was forced to recall memories, evocative, spellbinding in their intensity.

Even now, her body seemed to recognise his, and she attempted to control the curl of sensual emotion stirring deep within.

She didn’t want to remember the all-consuming passion, the feel of his hands, his mouth … how she’d lost herself so completely in him.

Go, a silent voice urged.

Ignite the engine and leave.

Now.

Somehow she managed to get through the remainder of the day, and she bore Nicki’s excited chatter about “Mummy’s friend” and the proposed picnic as she bathed and fed Nicki, then readied herself for work.

‘I have lots to tell Anna.’

Shannay leant down and kissed her daughter’s cheek as the doorbell rang. ‘Be good, hmm?’

‘Always,’ Nicki responded solemnly.

A light chuckle emerged from her throat. ‘Imp.’

‘A nice imp.’

Shannay gathered her in for a hug, then smoothed a hand over dark curls. ‘Extra-specially nice,’ she agreed, and crossed to let Anna into the apartment.

CHAPTER FOUR

MARCELLO’S IMAGE haunted Shannay’s subconscious and provided scattered dreams which seemed to reach nightmarish proportion throughout the night.

Consequently she woke to the insistent sound of the alarm clock feeling as if she hadn’t slept at all.

Not good.

She had a responsible job, she worked nights, and right now she’d give anything to bury her head in the pillow, snatch an hour’s dreamless sleep, and face an untroubled day.

Not possible.

‘Are you awake, Mummy?’

Bright eyes, tousled hair, a smile to die for … the light of her life.

Shannay reached for her daughter, gathered her close and pressed a light kiss to Nicki’s forehead.

‘Morning, sweetheart.’

‘We’re going to the park for a picnic today.’

‘Uh-huh.’ She playfully tickled Nicki’s ribs and the action brought forth a series of giggles. ‘Time to rise and shine, dress, have breakfast and—’

‘Be on the road by nine,’ Nicki completed a familiar mantra as she slid from the bed.

The picnic, the ducks, Marcello.

Not necessarily in that order, although combined they were the sole topic of Nicki’s conversation that morning.

Shannay gritted her teeth as she headed home after delivering her daughter to kindergarten.

If she heard his name mentioned again, she’d … do or say something regrettable!

One hour in his company, and he held Nicki in his thrall.

It was so not fair. And so typical of the man’s effect on the female species.

Traffic lights up ahead changed and she eased the car to a halt.

Figuratively speaking she was between a rock and a hard place. Signing or not signing the DNA paternity form only presented a relatively minor issue compared to the big picture.

The demons of the night returned tenfold, and the sudden strident sound of a car horn thrust her back into the present.

The insistent burr of her cellphone within minutes of clearing the intersection resulted in a juggling action as she changed lanes and pulled over to take the call.

‘Shannay.’

The familiar faintly accented male voice upped her nervous tension by several notches, and it took effort to summon a cool acknowledgement.

‘What do you want?’

‘We need to talk. There’s a café not far from your apartment. Meet me there in ten minutes.’

‘I have things to do, Marcello.’

‘This morning,’ Marcello elaborated, ‘in Nicki’s presence, or during your evening work hours, we will talk.’

‘You can’t—’ The words spilled, only to stop midsentence. He had no scruples whatsoever when it came to achieving his objective.

‘Choose.’

She could feel the anger surging through her body, and at that moment she truly hated him. ‘There is no choice.’

‘I’ll order a latte for you.’

Damn him to hell. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him exactly what he could do with the latte, except in some instances silence was golden, and she simply cut the connection.

Shannay reached her apartment block and eased the car down into the underground car park, locked it, then took the lift to ground level and walked out into the morning sunshine.

The café was close by, upmarket with outdoor tables and boutique sun umbrellas. A meeting place where friends assembled over designer coffee and sumptuous food to talk business, chat and watch the world go by.

There, seated outdoors, was Marcello.

Absent was the designer business suit, for today he’d chosen casual dark chinos and a white shirt unbuttoned at the neck.

It lent him a relaxed façade … one she knew to be misleading. Despite appearances to the contrary, Marcello rarely lowered his guard. It was what he’d become, who he was … and it showed.

There was something exigent that wrought a second look, a curiosity, sometimes fleeting, to check the level of power he emanated. A hint of the primitive, which unleashed could cause untold sensual havoc to a woman’s equilibrium.

A quality other men admired and coveted, but few possessed.

Marcello glanced up as she approached, and she felt the full impact of those dark eyes as they seared her own, witnessing for one moment the naked vulnerability apparent before she successfully masked it.

He signalled the waitress as Shannay slid into a seat opposite him.

Make-up free, except for a touch of gloss to her mouth, her hair caught together with a decorative clip, and dressed in jeans and a singlet top she looked scarcely more than a teenager.

Except looks could be deceptive, he mused, all too aware of the latent passion that lurked beneath that cool façade.

He remembered too well the sensual delight of her body, the persuasive touch and her eagerness to share … everything.

Heat unfurled and ran hot as he felt his own unbidden response, the need to render her willing and wanton. His, as she had been … and would be again.

No other woman came close, and he’d wanted what he once had.

Worse, he wanted her to pay for attempting to deny him any knowledge of his daughter.

‘Shannay.’

The waitress delivered her latte, and she selected two sugar tubes, broke them open and stirred in the contents.

Shannay took a deliberate sip of the frothy, milky liquid, then she carefully replaced the glass onto its saucer and met Marcello’s studied gaze.

‘Let’s get this over with, shall we?’ she suggested coolly.

‘Put our cards on the table, so to speak?’ Marcello drawled.

He was a superb strategist who played the game according to his own rules … and inevitably saved the sting for a coup de grâce.

Estimating precisely what that would encompass had kept her awake many nights and had haunted her dreams for a long time.

‘Yes.’ Delay wouldn’t achieve a thing, and wasn’t discovering the enemy’s game-plan half the battle?

‘The initial step is establishing legal evidence of my paternity.’

‘Something I won’t consent to without being fully aware of your intentions.’ Her voice was even, polite. ‘Immediate and long term.’

His eyes narrowed fractionally. ‘Whatever is decided will be primarily in Nicki’s best interests,’ he assured with hateful ease.

‘How can that be so?’ Shannay demanded, glaring at him. ‘Establishing custody rights will provide a total disruption to her life. Schooling, friends, family. Any hope of stability.’ She could feel herself winding up. ‘I’m her mother, dammit.’

He looked at her for what seemed an age, noting the fine edge of her anger, the restrained need to fight him … regardless of common-sense.

‘Nicki hasn’t displayed any curiosity about the absence of a father in her life?’

She ignored the silkiness in his voice, the latent anger held in tight control, and her eyes sharpened beneath the dark inflexibility evident in his.

‘Inevitably, soon after she began attending kindergarten,’ she revealed.

‘And?’

Her gaze didn’t waver. ‘I told her the very basic truth.’

An eyebrow lifted. ‘Enlighten me.’

‘I left her father before she was born.’ She lifted a hand and smoothed it over her hair in an unconscious gesture. ‘A number of children have single parents nowadays.’

Marcello leaned back in his chair and regarded her thoughtfully. ‘Except you’re still married, Shannay. To me.’

‘Not for much longer.’

His smile was a faint facsimile. ‘In four years you have only considered filing for divorce now?’

‘I’m not part of one of your business deals, Marcello. So quit playing psychological games.’ Shannay buttoned down her frustrated anger. ‘Spell out exactly what you intend.’

For a moment she imagined she glimpsed a fleeting shadow in the depth of his eyes, only to dismiss it.

‘With Nicki?’

‘Of course, with Nicki!’

‘Initially, I want to gift a sick elderly man the opportunity to meet his only great-grandchild.’

It wasn’t the answer she expected, nor was the mixture of emotions that tore at her heart. ‘Ramon is ill?’

The one person who had attempted to smooth over the family discord at Marcello’s choice of a wife. Someone who saw more than anyone intended, and became her ally. ‘How ill?’

‘The medical professionals predict he has only a matter of months. Maybe less.’

The implications assumed vivid reality. Achieving his objective would involve taking Nicki to Spain.

Pain escalated as it raced through her body, consuming her mind with turmoil. ‘I won’t allow you to take her overseas.’ Rationality went out the window. ‘She doesn’t have a passport. Hell, she doesn’t even know you!’

What if he didn’t bring Nicki back?

What if Nicki became distressed, distraught …?

‘Naturally, you would accompany her.’

Revisit a place where she had spent the worst twenty months of her life?

Mix with a family who hid their disapproval of Marcello’s choice of a wife beneath a thin veneer of politeness? A former lover, touted not to be so former, who delighted in causing mischief and mayhem?

‘You have to be kidding!’

‘A few weeks,’ Marcello elaborated. ‘That’s all.’

Shannay closed her eyes, then opened them again. ‘No.’

‘I gave Ramon my word.’

Something which only made the situation worse. ‘Ramon knows about Nicki?’

‘My grandfather was—’ he paused fractionally ‘—inadvertently appraised of Nicki’s existence.’

It wasn’t difficult to do the maths. ‘Penè.’ Marcello’s widowed aunt, a disgruntled woman who took delight in running interference.

She had no difficulty envisaging Sandro informing Marcello of his chance encounter a week ago, or the manner in which Penè came to hear of it.

Happy families. Not.

There was more. Ramon’s illness was only a part of it.

Her eyes narrowed. ‘And?’

One eyebrow slanted in silent query.

She took a deliberate sip of coffee, then another, before replacing the glass onto its saucer as she speared him with a direct look.

‘I don’t doubt the validity of your request. But don’t attempt to use it as a smokescreen.’ Did he think she was a naive fool?

‘Why would I do that?’

Shannay had positioned the figurative nail, now she chose to hammer it home. ‘To gain my sympathy, and dilute the major issue here.’ She waited a beat. ‘Your plans to gain custody.’ Her expression hardened a little. ‘Or is that not to form part of this discussion, and you’ll instruct your legal representative to inform mine of your intention?’

She was fearless when it came to protecting her child. He admired her strength and determination … and pondered if she was fully aware it was no match for his.

‘It will take time to work out a mutually amicable custody agreement,’ Marcello offered with deceptive indolence. ‘We need to consult and compare our individual schedules, and above all, ensure the arrangements we propose suit Nicki’s best interests. Her emotional welfare is the priority, is it not?’

Defensive assurance rose to the fore. ‘My daughter’s emotional status is just fine as it is.’

‘But circumstances have changed,’ he posed with deliberate calm. ‘Nicki is no longer the child of one parent. She has two. The legal system is purported to be fair. If we’re unable to reach an amicable agreement, a court judge will review our respective cases and award custody.’ He paused deliberately, his gaze intent on her expressive features. ‘Given the facts, do you doubt any judge will deny me reasonable access to my daughter?’

No, she conceded the hollow knowledge. But she was confident she could insist such access be confined within Australia.

‘Why do I get the feeling there’s an underlying reason behind all this?’ she demanded with increasing vexation.

‘One you obviously haven’t considered,’ Marcello ventured, then elaborated with faint emphasis. ‘Nicki’s rightful inheritance as a legitimate member of the Martinez dynasty.’

Her chin tilted, and her eyes became dark, gold-flecked obsidian. ‘For this, you require proof of paternity?’

‘A considerable fortune is involved.’

Sufficient to put Nicki on a spoilt-little-rich-girl list and all that entailed.

‘No.’

‘It is her right as a Martinez heir.’

‘Never sure of being liked for herself, or for who she is and what she can do for them? Living in a gilded cage, guarded and protected? Unable to enjoy the freedom of a normal childhood?’

Marcello drained his coffee and signalled the waitress for another, indicating only one when Shannay shook her head.

‘Wealth brings risks. Bodyguards are discreet. It’s something one learns to live with.’

She made a sweeping glance of the area, then returned her attention to him. ‘Next, you’ll tell me yours is seated near by.’ It was a comment veiled with deliberate cynicism, and she caught the slight twist at the edge of his mouth.

‘Three tables to your right. Tall, dark hair, shades, dressed in jeans and polo shirt. Carlo doubles as my personal assistant.’

So much for flippancy.

She hadn’t sensed anyone’s presence, or felt that inexplicable prickling at the back of her neck … and she definitely hadn’t seen anything to arouse suspicion.