already signed a lease on suitable office accommodation in the city, and tomorrow we look at these houses.’
It was almost too much for her to take in. Yet any doubt fled as he took both her hands in his and lifted them to his lips.
‘I love you,’ he vowed gently. ‘Stay with me, live with me. Let me love you, mi mujer, for the rest of my days. Por siempre.’
Forever.
They were only words, but they came from the heart, his soul … and were all she’d ever needed to hear.
Shannay withdrew her hands and cradled his face. Then she reached up, angled her mouth to his own and bestowed a lingering kiss.
‘Yes,’ she answered simply, and felt the tension ease from his body as he pulled her in close, then his mouth captured hers in a hungry, acutely sensual possession lasting long before he gradually eased to brush her swollen lips with his own, tracing their outline with a feather-light touch before lifting his head.
‘I think this calls for a celebration.’
Marcello crossed to the phone and ordered a bottle of exceedingly expensive French champagne be sent up from the bar, and when it was delivered he eased off the cork and poured the sparkling, light golden liquid into two flutes and handed her one.
‘To us.’
She lifted it and touched the rim to his own. Only to have her eyes widen in sudden consternation.
‘What is it?’
‘I—’ there was never going to be a better time to tell him ‘—shouldn’t have more than a sip of this,’ she offered with obvious reluctance, and saw his eyes sharpen, then assume a lazy gleam.
‘Because?’ Marcello prompted gently, and glimpsed a mischievous smile teasing the corners of that lush mouth.
‘It has to do with my being in the first trimester.’
She watched his expression change, and could only wonder at the joy, the love and an entire gamut of emotions flooding his features.
His eyes, she could die and go to heaven just on the look exposed there.
For her. Only her.
He laid the palm of one hand to her waist and splayed his fingers over her stomach.
‘You don’t mind?’
How could she mind?
She’d been fiercely protective of Nicki before and after she was born. Uncaring she’d chosen single motherhood over the alternative.
This time Marcello would be with her every step of the way.
‘I’m delighted,’ she assured gently.
‘You gift me everything I could ever want, amada. All I need.’
The champagne went flat, which was total sacrilege.
Not that it mattered in the slightest, for there were more important matters to be taken care of.
Such as the leisurely removal of clothes, long, lingering kisses … and gentle tactile lovemaking far into the night.
IT WAS EARLY when Shannay woke, and she stretched, felt strong hands pull her in against a hard, warm, fully aroused male body, and gave a pleasurable sigh.
‘Hmm,’ she murmured as lips nuzzled the sensitive hollow at the curve of her neck. ‘This is a very pleasant way to greet the morning.’
She reached for him, enclosed his hard length with light fingers, heard the faint hitch as the breath caught in his throat … and smiled.
‘There’s just one thing,’ she began tentatively as Marcello’s hand cupped her breast.
‘And what’s that?’ he drawled close to her ear.
Oh, dear … not now, please. ‘Morning sickness,’ she enlightened as the nausea rose up in waves, and she made an undignified dash to the bathroom, clicked the lock, before being violently ill.
She barely registered the rattle of the door handle, and studiously ignored the double knock as Marcello demanded to be let in.
‘I’m fine.’
The assurance didn’t work, for she heard him utter a string of wicked-sounding Spanish imprecations. ‘Open the door.’
‘I’ll be out in a minute.’
Not exactly an auspicious start to the day, and definitely not an enticing prelude to amorous activities, she grimaced as she washed her face and cleaned her teeth.
While there, she ran a brush through the tumbled length of her hair and twisted it into a knot atop her head, then she released the lock and emerged to find a concerned Marcello bent on dragging agitated fingers through badly rumpled hair.
A warm hand cupped her shoulder, while a firm thumb and finger captured her chin and lifted it as he subjected her to a dark-eyed scrutiny.
‘Are you OK?’
Next he’ll query if he should call a doctor …
He didn’t disappoint, and he frowned as she rolled her eyes.
‘What?’
‘Morning sickness is a common occurrence during the early months of pregnancy,’ she relayed with an impish grin. ‘And not always confined to the morning.’ She lifted a shoulder in a negligible shrug. ‘It tends to wear off during the second trimester.’
‘Is there nothing that helps?’
‘Most often a cup of tea and a plain biscuit as soon as I wake will avert the physical symptoms.’
He crossed to the phone. ‘I’ll order Room Service.’
‘Do that, for breakfast,’ Shannay qualified. ‘I’ll make the tea.’
He looked appealingly disconcerted, and she had a difficult time hiding a smile.
Marcello Martinez, corporate head, entrepreneur and billionaire … master of many things, but a tad lost around his pregnant wife.
‘I have a feeling I’m in for a learning curve,’ he acknowledged with musing wryness.
She laughed, a low, throaty sound that was infectious. ‘You’ll do fine.’ As he did with everything he chose to undertake.
He smoothed a hand over her cheek, cupped it, then traced her lower lip with his thumb. ‘Starting now. Sit down and I’ll make the tea.’
They showered, ate a leisurely breakfast,
