What else could she say? Any hope Marcello might absent himself in his city office each day seemed doomed. Which meant any form of freedom wasn’t going to happen.
Goodbye to checking out theme parks as carefree tourists. No spur-of-the-moment shopping excursions.
This was Madrid. Here she was affiliated to the Martinez family, where extreme wealth necessitated due care with a bodyguard in attendance beyond the safety of home.
She hadn’t liked it then. Any more than she did now. Except there was Nicki, with little or no conception of her true identity … yet. A vulnerable child who hadn’t been groomed almost from birth to always be aware of possible danger, to unquestionably obey the people in charge of her welfare, or having been taught simple but vital diversionary survival tactics.
It was a heavy load for such a young child, and not something instantly learned.
Although she was loath to admit Marcello had been right in bringing them into his home, it made perfect sense to utilise their three-week sojourn as a learning curve.
It was no use wishing fate hadn’t had a hand in bringing Nicki’s existence to Sandro and Luisa’s attention.
Life was filled with coincidence, occasionally against all the odds … and she had to deal with it.
Shannay finished her breakfast, drained the rest of her coffee and extended a hand towards her daughter.
‘Shall we go explore?’
The house first, then the grounds … with Carlo in attendance at a reasonable distance when they ventured outdoors.
High walls, electronic gates, sophisticated security monitoring the grounds.
Together she and Nicki trod the neat paths as they viewed the immaculate lawns, the gardens with their beautiful flowerbeds providing brilliant colour, carefully tended shrubbery precision-clipped to landscaped perfection.
‘It’s pretty,’ Nicki announced, then pointed in excitement. ‘There’s a swimming pool. Are we allowed to swim in it?’
‘Only when I’m with you,’ she cautioned firmly.
‘Or Marcello?’
Shannay inclined an agreement, and felt a degree of maternal alarm at the thought of Nicki being left unsupervised when she wasn’t around. Then she calmed down a little. For the next two years, Nicki’s sojourns here would be restricted to a few … except how could she ever learn to let go?
She’d be a nervous wreck from the time her daughter boarded the jet until she returned to Australian soil.
‘It’s a very big house,’ Nicki declared, visibly awed by the luxurious interior as they moved through the various rooms.
Shannay provided a running explanation as they completed the first level and trod the stairs to the upper level.
‘I like our wing best,’ Nicki clutched a tighter hold of Shannay’s hand, ‘‘specially my room.’
Who wouldn’t?
Marcello joined them for lunch, and from his casual attire he’d obviously conducted the morning’s work in his home office.
Black jeans, a white shirt unbuttoned at the neck and the long sleeves rolled back at the cuffs, he resembled a dark angel, rugged with his hair less smoothly groomed than usual … almost as if he’d thrust fingers through its thickness in exasperation. And if so, why?
In the early days of their marriage she would have walked up to him, cupped his broad facial features between both hands and leaned in to savour the touch of his mouth. Feel his arms close round her slim body as he deepened the kiss, and exult in his arousal.
A time when she’d thought nothing could damage their love.
How naive had she been?
‘Must I have a nap?’
Shannay caught the subdued excitement bubbling beneath the surface as Nicki silently pleaded with her.
‘Uh-huh.’ She tempered it with a smile, hating the disappointment clouding her daughter’s expressive features. ‘Everyone has a siesta after lunch.’
Nicki’s eyes grew round with surprise. ‘Even grown-ups?’ She looked at Marcello. ‘You, too?’
‘Sometimes, if I’m home and not too busy.’ His smile transformed his features, and Shannay felt the familiar sensation curl deep within in memory of how they’d shared the afternoon siesta when sleep hadn’t been a factor.
Marcello’s sanction made it OK, and Nicki obediently caught hold of Shannay’s hand as she led her daughter upstairs to her room.
With outer clothes removed and tucked beneath light covers, Nicki fell asleep within minutes, and Shannay moved through to her own room, too restless to do other than flick through a magazine.
No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t shake an instinctively inexplicable feeling of impending … what?
She shook her head in exasperation, then dispensed with the magazine. It was crazy. She was crazy.
It was mid-afternoon when Carlo brought the expensive Porsche four-wheel-drive to the front door, and with Nicki happily ensconced in the rear seat between Shannay and Marcello they headed for the nearest park.
Her daughter’s enthusiasm for everything new appeared boundless, and she watched as Nicki explored, frequently calling for Marcello to come look at a butterfly, a bee, a pretty flower.
By day’s end, fed and bathed, Nicki contentedly settled in bed as Marcello read her a bedtime story, then when he reached the end he brushed a light kiss to his daughter’s forehead, bade her goodnight and left the room.
Shannay adjusted the night-light, checked the internal monitor, and when she turned Nicki was already breathing evenly in sleep.
If she could, she’d request a tray in her room in lieu of dinner. Except it would be seen as a cop-out, and she refused to allow Marcello to witness so much as a chink in her feminine armour.
Instead, she showered and dressed in an elegant trouser suit, left her hair loose, applied minimum make-up and went down to join Marcello.
A familiar sensation knotted her stomach as she caught sight of his tall, compelling frame, only to tighten considerably as he turned to face her.
There was a degree of lazy arrogance apparent in those dark eyes … a knowledge that probed deep beyond the surface and saw too much.
In the full blush of love, she’d thought it incredibly romantic. Now she viewed it as an aberration.
Once again she declined wine in favour of chilled water, and sought to set the record straight.
‘There’s no need for you to ignore your social life while Nicki and I are here.’
‘Once our daughter is settled for the night I should feel under no obligation to entertain her mother?’ Marcello’s voice held a tinge of
