personal portfolio was enviable, providing him with billionaire status in a business world frequented by the ruthless drive for power.
Shannay wondered if he continued to entertain on a regular basis, whether he was active on the social scene and continued to support a few selected charities.
In four years there had to have been at least a few women in his life. Imagining Marcello as a celibate was beyond the bounds of credibility.
Which inevitably led to Marcello’s former lover … and Shannay’s nemesis. Estella de Cordova.
Was the über socialite still on the scene?
And if so, did Marcello intend to marry Estella after they divorced?
A cold hand clutched her heart and squeezed mercilessly hard.
Please, dear God, no.
The thought Estella might have any part in Nicki’s welfare was enough to make Shannay want to throw up.
‘You’ve had a long flight,’ Maria began quietly. ‘I have tea and some light food prepared. Afterwards, perhaps you would like to rest.’
Carlo brought in their bags and took them upstairs.
‘Tea would be lovely. Perhaps a glass of milk for Nicki,’ Shannay suggested as Marcello indicated the staircase.
‘First, I’ll show you to your rooms.’
A personal escort? Somehow she expected him to disappear into his home office.
‘It’s a big house,’ Nicki voiced quietly as they reached the upper level. ‘Do other people live here?’
‘Sometimes there are guests,’ Marcello said gently, meeting her dark, solemn gaze.
‘Like Mummy and me.’
‘Yes.’
Shannay felt her stomach execute a slow somersault as he turned away from the wing containing the guest suites and moved down the opposite passage.
She knew the family wing well. Elegant suites, beautifully furbished and furnished.
Did Marcello sleep alone in the master suite, or had he chosen another?
Whoa. Where had that come from?
As if she cared where he slept … as long as it was in a suite far from the one Maria had prepared for herself and Nicki.
The master suite rose vividly in her mind. Positioned at the far end of the family wing, it comprised a large bedroom, two en suites, two walk-in wardrobes and an adjoining room containing comfortable deep-seated chairs, a sofa, reading lamps.
Had he had the suite redecorated?
‘No.’
Shannay heard his soft drawl and refused to look at him, hating that he still retained the ability to read her mind.
He paused at an open door. ‘I think you’ll be comfortable here.’
Here was two bedrooms separated by an en suite, with one of the bedrooms decorated especially for a young girl. Different shades of pink, from the palest shade to watermelon. Prints hung on the walls, toys in abundance, and the bed was fit for a princess.
Nicki’s room.
Shannay got it.
A room that was Nicki’s alone, for whenever she visited. A suite she would become familiar with, feel comfortable in and look forward to occupying.
Not too far in distance from where Marcello slept while she was young, so she would feel secure, knowing he was within calling distance.
There was a part of her that hated him for deliberately setting the scene for Nicki’s future.
Yet there was also a feeling of gratitude that she didn’t want to acknowledge. Together with a mounting anxiety that played havoc with her emotions.
‘Is this where I’ll sleep?’
Nicki’s voice held a degree of wondrous awe.
‘Yes.’ Marcello moved towards the en suite, opened the connecting door and crossed to the opposite door which led into an adjoining bedroom. ‘Your mother will sleep here.’
‘Can the doors stay open?’ Nicki queried tentatively, and he offered a reassuring smile.
‘Of course.’
Nicki caught hold of her mother’s hand. ‘Aren’t we lucky?’ she said simply, to which Shannay could only answer in the affirmative.
‘Marcello is kind to let us stay here.’
She could think of numerous descriptive adjectives … not one of them remotely resembled kind, given he had his own agenda.
Their luggage stood at the end of the bed, and Marcello indicated both suitcases. ‘Maria will unpack for you. Freshen up, then come downstairs.’
He gave Nicki a warm smile, extended it towards Shannay, then he turned and left the room.
Unpacking would take only a matter of minutes, and Shannay tended to her own, then she transferred Nicki’s clothes into the connecting bedroom.
A short while later she accompanied Nicki downstairs to the informal lounge, where Maria served tea, delicate sandwiches and a bowl of freshly cut fruit.
Dinner would be served late … way past Nicki’s usual bedtime, and Shannay decided sandwiches and a glass of milk would suffice as an evening meal on this occasion.
Marcello’s presence was unexpected. For some reason she had imagined he’d disappear into his home office and remain there until dinner. A meal she intended to skip on the pretext of bathing Nicki and settling her to sleep.
The flight had been long, his company a constant, and she desperately needed a break from him.
Nicki ate little, drank her milk and began to visibly droop.
‘If you’ll excuse us?’ Shannay took hold of her daughter’s hand. ‘Say goodnight, darling.’
Nicki politely obliged, and Marcello surprised them both by lifting the young child into his arms.
‘I can take her.’ She reached out, expecting Nicki to lean towards her … except her daughter remained where she was.
She told herself she wasn’t hurt. Silently assured herself it didn’t matter. But it did.
Nicki’s head had tucked in against the curve of his throat as they reached the bedroom, and he gently lowered her down onto the bed.
‘Thanks.’ It was a polite, perfunctory gesture that didn’t fool him in the slightest.
His eyes seared her own. ‘I’ll
