‘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.
