must be you keeping me awake nights, or I’m pregnant. Preferably the latter, as it’s my duty to provide you with another child. A son.’
Marcello sank back in his chair. ‘I’m intrigued to hear your response.’
‘Let’s just say it invoked the reminder a Martinez would never countenance divorce.’
His eyes seared her own. ‘You can have whatever you want, Shannay … with one exception. A divorce.’
A sudden lump rose in her throat, and she swallowed it carefully. ‘I don’t want gifts, haute couture or a high-profile social life. They mean nothing to me. They never did.’
‘Yet we share the gift of a child.’
‘The one thing I won’t let you take away from me,’ Shannay vowed with renewed fervour, and something flickered in the depths of his eyes before it was successfully masked.
‘It was never my intention to do so.’
‘Yet you’d consign us both to a convenient marriage where we maintain a façade in public?’ Her eyes darkened, and pain curled deep inside. ‘For what purpose, Marcello?’ She drew in a slightly ragged breath. ‘Revenge … because I didn’t inform you of Nicki’s existence?’
‘Is that what you think?’
‘I think you’re playing a game,’ she flung, sorely tried as she rose to her feet.
Dignity and pride. She possessed both, and she walked away from him without a further glance, uncaring whether he followed or not.
Sleep proved elusive, and she tossed and turned, only to slip out of bed and take something to ease a tension headache.
Eventually she must have slept, for she came awake aware she was no longer in her own bed, but held in strong masculine arms as Marcello traversed the dimly lit gallery en route to his own suite.
‘Put me down!’ Her voice was little more than a sibilant hiss as she struggled against him.
Without success, and she balled a fist and lashed out uncaring as to where it landed.
In a matter of seconds he entered the suite, closed the door behind him, then released her down to stand in front of him.
Shannay glared at him in open defiance, hating him in that instant as she ignored the darkness evident in his eyes and the bunched muscle at the edge of his jaw.
‘This is ridiculous. You’re impossible!’ She released a growl of frustration.
‘That’s the best you can do?’
She ignored his indolent drawl, the waiting, watching quality in his stance … and launched into a barely restrained diatribe that used every emotive adjective she could recall.
One eyebrow slanted as she came to a halt, and he posed silkily, ‘You’re done?’
‘Yes, dammit!’
‘Good.’
He captured her shoulders and drew her in, then he closed his mouth over her own, took all the fiery heat and tamed it, ignoring her flailing fists as they faltered and fell to her sides.
He wanted her unbidden response, and deliberately sought it, sensing the low groan deep in her throat as she fought against capitulation. Followed soon after by the involuntary slide of her tongue against his own, the sudden hitch in her breath as she angled her head and allowed him free access.
One hand slid to her nape, while the other moved down her back, bunched the oversized T-shirt and slipped beneath the cotton fabric to cup and gently squeeze her bottom.
His body tightened unbearably and he lifted her, eased her thighs apart, then positioned her to accept his fully aroused length as he eased into the slick, welcoming heat, heard her faint sigh … and surged in to the hilt.
Then it was his turn to bite back a guttural sound as her vaginal muscles enclosed him, and he began to move, creating a rhythm that sent them both high until they reached the brink, then soared together in a shattering climax.
At some stage Marcello had dispensed with her T-shirt, although she had no recollection of when, only that she was naked in his arms and his lips were tantalising hers, nibbling and teasing until she held fast his head and kissed him with such exquisite eroticism he was hard-pressed not to take her again.
Instead he crossed to the bed, eased down onto his back with her sitting astride him.
Her mouth was softly swollen, and his eyes darkened as she lifted both hands and tucked her hair behind each ear. The movement lifted her breasts, and he traced their soft curves, teased the tender peaks … and watched her eyes glaze over.
They were both at each other’s mercy, and she shifted deliberately, glimpsed the increasing darkness apparent in his gleaming gaze, then she gave a startled cry as he brought her down and took one tender peak into his mouth.
Intense pleasure spiralled through her body as he suckled, and a warning hiss escaped from her lips as he caught the swollen bud between his teeth and rolled it to the point beyond pleasure to the imminent edge of pain.
It made her acutely vulnerable, and she opened her mouth to plead with him, only for the pressure to ease as he soothed the tender peak.
Then he wrapped his arms around her slender frame and rolled until she lay beneath him. For a moment he drank in the sight of her, the wildness of her hair, the sensual glow warming her skin, and the magical passion they shared.
She moistened her lips, and he drove into her only to almost withdraw before repeating the action again and again, increasing the intensity of the rhythm until she joined him in a climax more shattering than the first.
Afterwards he gathered her close and rested his lips against her temple in the lazy afterglow of spent passion.
Shannay was close to sleep when he manoeuvred her onto her tummy and began a wonderfully soothing massage of her neck and shoulders, easing out the kinks there before slipping down to knead her calf muscles and finally her feet.
His lips pressed a trail of light kisses over her leg, bit gently into the globe of her bottom, then eased up to her nape.
She turned into him and rested her mouth into the curve at the base of his throat, murmured something indistinct, then drifted into deep sleep.
The gala event held in one of the city’s splendid theatres appeared to be a sell-out, with numerous fashionistas vying for supremacy in designer gowns and exquisite jewellery.
The crème de la crème of Madrid society, patrons of the arts, who paid an exorbitant ticket price to attend the evening’s classical production.
In pairs, small groups, they gathered in the large foyer, and Shannay stood at Marcello’s side with a ready smile in place as guests mixed and mingled.
Tall, dark, impeccably groomed, his evening suit a perfect tailored fit, pristine white shirt and black bow-tie, he looked the epitome of the powerful, sophisticated male.
He stood
