as the news team drove away a few minutes later, and then with a sigh of satisfaction turned and entered the building.
Sabrina’s flat was neat and tidy inside, but he could see why she had always sought employment in the upper echelons of society. Like the many gold-diggers he had met or had dealings with in the past, she was obviously looking for a way out of her current situation. A rich man, even if he was married, could set her up as his mistress. Things had backfired on her with Howard Roebourne, but no doubt there would be other rich men once he put an end to their temporary marriage, Mario thought sceptically.
‘How long have you lived here?’ Mario asked as she came out with a battered suitcase into the tiny lounge area.
‘A couple of years,’ she said. ‘I’d like something bigger and in a nicer suburb, but there’s really not much point when most of the families I have worked for have required me to live with them for extended periods.’
‘It must at times be difficult to have a private life when you are living with other people,’ he said, taking the bag out of her hand and placing it near the door. ‘No wonder you have been tempted to work and play under the same roof.’
Her grey eyes flashed as they hit his. ‘You think I’m a slut, don’t you? And yet the papers are full of your sexual exploits. Your double standards make me sick.’
‘I have not resorted to sleeping with married women,’ he said. ‘I have plenty of single and unattached ones to work my way through first.’
She swung away from him, snatching up her handbag and hoisting it over her shoulder. ‘I suppose you have a revolving door on your bedroom?’ she said, flashing him another glare.
Mario grinned at the thought. ‘Not yet, but it sounds like a great idea,’ he said.
Her glare intensified. ‘I think you are disgusting,’ she spat. ‘You have no morals. You probably don’t even spare the women you bed with another thought once you have done with them. It’s such a shallow and selfish way to live.’
‘It is no more shallow and selfish than touching what does not belong to you,’ he pointed out.
‘You know nothing about me,’ she said with a mulish jut of her chin as tears welled up in her eyes. ‘You think you do, but you don’t.’
He pushed himself away from the door frame where he had been leaning. ‘I know what Howard Roebourne told me about you.’
Sabrina felt her face drain of colour as her heart began to pound sickeningly. ‘H-how do you know him?’ she asked.
‘The business world is not as big as you might think,’ he answered. ‘Roebourne and I move in the same financial circles. I happened to run into him at a corporate function when I was here the last time.’
‘W-what did he say?’ she asked, even though she wasn’t sure she really wanted to know. After that last horrible scene with her previous employer, she could not think of a single thing he could say that would paint her in an attractive light.
‘Nothing I had not already worked out for myself,’ he said with an enigmatic smile.
Sabrina silently ground her teeth. So that was why he had allowed her to kiss him on the day of Molly’s christening, to see if what he had heard about her was true. Her shameless grasp at him hadn’t done her any favours, she realised now when it was far too late to do anything to change things. If he had only suspected she was a wanton woman before, her behaviour at the christening would have been more than enough confirmation that his suspicions were accurate. She had acted so out of character that day. She had blamed the three glasses of champagne she had consumed, but she had only drunk them out of sheer nervousness in his presence.
It had started the day of the wedding when he had captured her gaze and held it. Something had passed between them that day, something visceral. And then at the christening it had been activated all over again by Mario’s debonair charm, his lethally attractive smile, and the sensual glide of his hand on her bare arm as he had taken the baby from her. She had felt it as soon as his eyes had locked with hers, drawing her to him, holding her, making her burn for him as if he had turned on a switch inside her body. Try as she might, she hadn’t been able to locate it since and turn it off. She had felt that same tingle of awareness even when his name had been mentioned, let alone standing in his presence as she was doing now.
‘Are you ready to leave?’ he asked as he picked up Molly in the baby carrier in one hand and her old suitcase in the other.
‘Yes,’ she said, avoiding his eyes.
Once Molly was back in the car and the suitcase stowed, Mario got back behind the wheel. ‘I suppose I should warn you that the press will go wild about our forthcoming marriage,’ he said. ‘I know you are not keen on the idea, but I think the best approach is to let everyone believe this is a genuine love-match. That is what I told them back there at your flat. They seemed to be delighted by it.’
Sabrina stared at him in wide-eyed alarm. ‘You told them I was in love with you?’
He grinned at her wickedly. ‘Of course I did. I have my reputation to maintain, don’t forget. I can’t have people thinking you married me for my money. It’s demeaning.’
‘But I am only marrying you because of Molly, and it was your choice to pay me,’ she pointed out wryly.
He gave a shrug of indifference. ‘Yes, but no one else needs to know that. Have you decided how much you want?’
Sabrina swallowed tightly as she turned to look out of the passenger window. There was no amount of money on this earth that would ever bring her best friend back, but if she could put any of the money Mario gave her into an investment account for Molly it would be something. When Sabrina’s mother had died, she had been left with nothing. The stigma of being penniless and at the mercy of others’ charity had never left her, even after all these years. Of course Molly, being under Mario’s protection, would want for nothing, but Sabrina wanted to demonstrate her commitment to her godchild by herself providing her with a nest egg when she came of age. She was determined not to touch a penny of it for herself.
‘I can almost hear the ching-ching of the cash register in your brain,’ Mario said. ‘You are doing the sums, calculating how much you will need to set yourself up for life.’
She sent him a spiteful glance. ‘I want half a million for every year we are married.’
‘In Australian dollars or euros?’ he asked without flinching.
Sabrina tried to recall the current exchange-rate. ‘Um…in euros,’ she said, wishing she had asked for more just to annoy him.
‘If you give me your details, I will make sure the first instalment is in there once we are married.’
Sabrina toyed with the strap of her handbag for a moment. ‘You said earlier you expected me to take your name,’ she said, pausing to glance at him again. ‘Is that really necessary in this day and age?’
‘Sabrina Marcolini,’ he drawled. ‘Now that has rather a nice ring to it, does it not?’
She pursed her lips. ‘I prefer Halliday. It was my mother’s maiden name.’
‘You don’t have a father?’
‘Not
