Bound By The Marcolini Diamonds (The Marcolini Men Book 2) Read online

  ‘I think we should get married as soon as possible.’

  The words fell into the silence like boulders into a calm pond. The rings went outwards, rolling towards her, each one threatening to swamp her. Waves of panic washed over her; she swallowed great, drowning mouthfuls of it before she could speak.

  ‘W-what did you say?’ she choked.

  He gave her a level look. ‘It is the only way we can secure Molly’s future,’ he said. ‘We are her godparents; if we marry, it will convince the court we are the most suitable candidates for her guardianship.’

  Sabrina felt her brain start to whirl like an out of control adventure-park ride. Surely she was hearing things; had he really just suggested they marry each other? They were practically strangers. They had only met twice, and each time had circled each other like wary opponents. How could she agree to such a preposterous plan?

  ‘Think about it, Sabrina,’ he said. ‘I am a rich man who can provide everything Molly will ever need. You are an experienced hand at looking after infants and small children. We are also young enough to be good substitute-parents. It is a perfect solution.’

  Sabrina finally located her voice, but it came out sounding like a rusty hinge. ‘You’re asking me to—to marry you?’

  Mario’s eyes flickered in irritation at her tone. ‘It will not be a real marriage, if that is what is making you baulk at the prospect,’ he said. ‘We can each live our own lives—but of course you would have to live with me in Italy, at least until Molly is of an age when she does not need you so much. After that, we can reassess the situation and take appropriate action.’

  Her grey eyes blinked at him, her soft mouth falling open, her cheeks developing a faint blush. ‘Live with you…in Italy?’ she said on a gulp.

  Mario felt his annoyance rising at her. He was the one putting himself out on a limb here; he had sworn marriage was something he would never submit to. He loved his freedom; he relished every minute of being his own man, living the life he wanted to live without the ties of a permanent relationship. But, after receiving the news about his best friend’s death, he’d realised he would have to step up to the plate, and quickly.

  Ric had once risked his own life to save Mario’s during a skiing trip in the Swiss Alps when they were nineteen. Mario knew he would not be alive and well today if it hadn’t been for Ric’s courage and persistence at digging him out of that avalanche with his bare hands. The bond of friendship that had always existed between them, had become so strong after that day Mario had felt sure even way back then that only death would be able to sever it.

  Ric had trusted him to see to Molly’s interests and he would honour that trust, even if it meant temporarily tying himself to a woman with a more than tarnished reputation. Sabrina Halliday was all demure girl-next-door on the outside, but Mario had tasted a tiny morsel of what was simmering on the inside of that slim but all-woman figure. No doubt that was why she was playing the hard-to-get game with him now. He knew how gold-diggers worked, and as far as he was concerned she was a text-book case. She might have genuine affection for Molly, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t aware of how much she could gain out of this situation.

  ‘I am prepared to pay you for every year we remain married,’ he said. ‘I am even prepared to negotiate with the amount.’

  The frown she gave him seemed too quick to be anything but genuine, but he was well used to the guiles of women with dollar signs in their eyes.

  ‘You think I want to be paid to be your wife?’ she asked.

  He pinned her grey gaze with his. ‘You can have what you want, Sabrina, name your figure. I want Molly under my care and I will pay anything to achieve it.’

  This time her face went pale and her small, white teeth began to gnaw at her bottom lip. ‘I think you’ve got the wrong idea about me—’

  ‘Let’s not dawdle any longer over this, Sabrina,’ he cut her off impatiently. ‘I realise moving to another country is a big step to take—but, with what has been happening here recently, do you not think it is an ideal time to escape from all the innuendo and speculation that has surrounded you?’

  Sabrina felt her face crawl with colour. Just like everyone else in Sydney, he thought she was guilty. She could see it in his eyes, the way they ran over her as if he could see right through her clothes. The press hadn’t done her any favours, certainly, but surely he of all people knew how the media worked? He had been subjected to it all of his life, so how unfair was it for him to so readily assume she was as she had been portrayed?

  But marry him?

  Her stomach dropped at the thought of being in the same country as him, let alone the same room. He was everything she was not. Hadn’t she proved that by her clumsy attempt to kiss him that day? How could she possibly agree to marry him and subject herself to daily temptation? And, even more worrying, would she be able to withstand any attempt on his part to consummate the union if he took it upon himself to do so? He was temptation personified. She could feel the sexual energy of him here and now. Every time his eyes connected with hers it was like being exposed to powerful radiation, making her body hum inside and out.

  ‘You have not found a new position as a live-in nanny, and it is my guess you will not be able to for quite some time,’ he continued. ‘After all, what self-respecting wife would want to employ a well-known seductress to take care of her children?’

  Sabrina ground her teeth. ‘I am no such thing. I was used as a scapegoat and no one would believe me.’

  His expression was brimful with cynicism. ‘It is of no concern to me what you did or who you did it with,’ he said. ‘I need a wife in a hurry, and as far I can see you are the most suitable candidate.’

  She curled her top lip at him. ‘I find it surprising you would want a wife with such a track record as mine. Aren’t you concerned I will be a bad influence on Molly?’

  ‘I have seen you with Molly, and I do not have any doubts over your love and care for her,’ he said. ‘Besides, she is used to you handling her, and I do not want her routine disrupted any more than it has been already. I do not know the first thing about babies, and quite frankly nor do any of the women I normally associate with. Plus, it was the wish of Laura and Ric that we should care for Molly.’

  Sabrina felt a tiny hook-like tug somewhere in the middle of her chest at the thought of all the women he would continue to see if she married him. ‘A marriage of convenience’ was the term, a mutual agreement that benefited both parties, this time for the sake of a small, tragically orphaned child. Mario would continue his playboy lifestyle while she would act the role of the long-suffering wife. Oh, she would be well and truly compensated, of that she was sure. Money was no object when it came to the Marcolini bloodline. Upon his father’s death a few months ago, Mario had taken over the Marcolini investment business even though he was not the eldest son. His older brother Antonio was a high-profile plastic surgeon who travelled the world lecturing on his ground-breaking techniques for facial reconstruction surgery.

  Between the two of them the money they had inherited and earned was beyond anything Sabrina could imagine. When she had lost her mother at the age of ten, the foster family who had taken her in had by no means been on the breadline, but they’d been frugal and conservative with their spending and their lifestyle. Necessities were saved for and purchased, but never luxuries. Sabrina had not even been to a proper restaurant until the age of sixteen, when she had saved up enough money from her various babysitting jobs to go out to celebrate a friend’s birthday.

  Mario Marcolini on the other hand had probably been fed by five-star chefs all his silver-spooned life. The suit he was wearing looked as if it was a designer label; the silver watch on his tanned wrist probably cost more than her car. Everything about him spoke of wealth and privilege, which was no doubt where he had obtained his air of arrogance. His cleanly shaven jaw had a hint of stubbornness to it, and although she knew from experience how sinfully sensual his mouth could be she suspected it t
oo could be equally intransigent if anyone stood in the way of what he wanted.

  The sound of a tiny cry came from the pram, and Sabrina blinked herself out of her stasis to soothe Molly, who was due for a feed and change. ‘Hey there, little one,’ she cooed as she picked up the little pink bundle. ‘What is all the fuss about, hmm? Are you hungry?’

  ‘May I hold her?’

  Sabrina turned with the baby in her arms, surprised at how deep and scratchy Mario’s voice had sounded. ‘Of course,’ she said, stepping towards him.

  He took the baby carefully from her arms, one of his hands brushing against her breast as he did so. Sabrina tried to disguise her reaction, but she could feel the heat pooling in her cheeks all the same.

  She watched as he cradled Molly against his broad chest, his large hands and long, strong forearms making the infant look so small in comparison. A corner of his mouth began to lift in a wistful smile as he looked down at the little girl, one of his long fingers stroking her tiny cheek. ‘Ciao, piccolo; sono il vostro nuovo papa,’ he said.

  Sabrina found it amazing how one small infant could effect such a change in a man’s demeanour. Gone was the cynical glint in his dark gaze; in its place was a tender warmth that made her wish he would look at her like that. She pulled back from her traitorous thoughts, shocked at how she was reacting to him. Perhaps it was his out-of-the-blue proposal that had weakened her normally rigid resolve. Like him, she would do anything to protect Molly, but what he was suggesting made her feel as if she was wading out of her depth into very murky, dangerous water.

  Being formally tied to him would mean much more than sharing a house and the care of a child. In spite of his assurance, the marriage would not be a real one. She couldn’t help but think living with him over any period of time would blur the boundaries, for her if not for him. From the first moment she had met him at Laura and Ric’s wedding eighteen months ago, she had felt a zapping sensation when his deep brown eyes had meshed with hers. It had made every nerve beneath her skin tingle with awareness; her stomach had felt hollow and her legs watery. He had flirted with her outrageously, and yet somehow she had managed to play it cool even though inside she had been simmering with reaction, a reaction she had not been able to control when she had met him again just a few weeks ago. She was not normally the sort of woman to have her head turned with suave good looks. She had always been so guarded around men, which made the fiasco with the Roebournes all the more ridiculously ironic.

  There was a sound at the door, and Ingrid Knowles came sweeping in. ‘Where is my grandchild?’ she asked, her words slurring slightly. ‘I want to show her off to some of my friends who have just arrived.’

  Sabrina felt her back come up like the fur of a cornered cat. ‘Molly needs changing and feeding first,’ she said. ‘And she is not your grandchild—she is no relation to you whatsoever.’

  Ingrid’s mouth pulled tight as she gave Sabrina an up-and-down look that had talons attached. ‘You think you’re going to keep her, don’t you? Well, you are not. I have already spoken to my lawyer. You don’t stand a chance-not after what you did to poor Imogen Roebourne, seducing her husband behind her back.’

  Sabrina felt one of Mario’s arms go round her waist, while the other cradled the baby against his broad chest. ‘You have been misinformed, Mrs Knowles,’ he said with cool authority. ‘Sabrina was totally innocent in the Roebourne affair. The press made it out to be something it was not.’

  Ingrid gave a grating laugh. ‘And you believe her?’

  ‘Yes, I do, actually,’ he responded smoothly. ‘I would not be marrying her otherwise.’

  Ingrid’s penciled eyebrows shot upwards. ‘You’re marrying her?’ she choked in stunned surprise.

  His arm subtly tightened around Sabrina’s waist. ‘We will be married as soon as it can be arranged and take Molly with us back to Italy.’

  Ingrid turned her attention to Sabrina. ‘Is this true?’ she asked, with a gaze as narrow as a starling’s. ‘Are you really marrying this man?’

  Sabrina felt the seconds ticking by as she hesitated before she answered. The band of Mario’s arm was warm about her; she could feel every one of his splayed fingers on her hip, the warmth spreading to her inner thighs like a trail of slow-burning fire. By opening her mouth and agreeing to his plan she knew she was not just stepping onto hot coals but throwing herself into the flames.

  Her eyes flicked to where Molly was nestled against Mario’s chest, her sweet little doll-like face turned in Sabrina’s direction. Her little Cupid’s bow mouth smiled as she looked at her, and for Sabrina that clinched it. How could she possibly say no now?

  ‘Um…I…yes,’ she said. ‘That’s right. We’re, er, getting married.’

  Ingrid gave her another scathing look. ‘Then you are an even bigger gold-digger than I thought. You hardly know the man. You’ve met him—what?—twice? How can you possibly think of marrying him unless it’s for money? That’s what this is about, isn’t it? You’ve always fancied being the wife of a rich man, and who is richer than a Marcolini?’

  Sabrina felt her face suffuse with colour. ‘This is not about money.’

  ‘That is correct,’ Mario interjected. ‘It is about what is best for Molly. It’s what her parents wanted for her.’

  Ingrid threw Mario a malevolent glare. ‘You don’t stand a chance. Stanley will engage a top lawyer who will make mincemeat of you.’

  Mario’s eyes glinted with steely implacability. ‘Before he does that, perhaps you had better tell him I know all about what he has been doing with the Whinstone account.’

  There was a throbbing pause.

  Sabrina could see how Laura’s stepmother was clenching and unclenching her teeth, her green eyes darting about nervously. She almost felt sorry for the woman. For all Ingrid’s beverage-fuelled bravado, what chance did she stand with Mario Marcolini as an opponent?

  ‘You’re not going to win this,’ Ingrid said through thin lips, although her defiant stance had visibly sagged.

  Mario’s hand tightened possessively on Sabrina’s hip as he gave the older woman an imperious smile. ‘I believe I just did,’ he said. ‘Sabrina has agreed to be my wife, and that as far as I am concerned is the end of it.’

  No, Sabrina thought with a funny, moth-like fluttering sensation in her stomach as Ingrid stalked out. It is just the beginning.

  CHAPTER TWO

  ‘YOU DO not need to look so worried, Sabrina,’ Mario said as he gently handed Molly over. ‘I don’t think we will hear from Mrs Knowles again once we are officially married.’

  Sabrina busied herself with seeing to the baby’s needs rather than meet his eyes. Oh, dear God, what had she committed herself to? There was no way she could wriggle out of this without compromising Molly. Mario had hinted at something untoward in Stanley Knowles’s business dealings. And, knowing what Laura had felt about her stepmother and what Sabrina had seen for herself, how could she step aside now to let such people be the guardians of her little god-daughter?

  The tiny baby girl cooed at her as if to confirm it, her tiny arms reaching towards Sabrina’s face, the little starfish hands touching her on the cheeks, a gurgling chuckle of delight coming out of her rosebud mouth.

  ‘I will arrange for a special license,’ Mario said, watching as she leaned forward to press a soft kiss to the middle of each of Molly’s tiny palms.

  Sabrina continued to dress Molly with hands that were not quite steady. ‘How soon do you expect it will be before we…?’ She faltered over the word. ‘Er, marry?’

  ‘As soon as it can be arranged,’ he answered. ‘No longer than a week, maybe even less.’

  Sabrina felt her stomach lurch sideways. A week? She picked up the baby and laid her against her right shoulder as she faced him again. ‘That seems…rather rushed.’

  ‘Do you have a current passport?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, but—’

  ‘Good,’ he said. ‘I will need that and your birth certificate to make all
the arrangements.’

  ‘Mario, I—’

  ‘It is imperative we get going on this, Sabrina,’ he said with an indomitable look. ‘Besides, I want to get back home to where my business commitments await me.’

  No doubt your mistress awaits you too, Sabrina thought resentfully as she took out Molly’s bottle, which was encased in the Thermos container, and settled down to feed the restless baby. Once Molly was sucking contentedly, Sabrina looked up at Mario who was standing a short distance away, watching her like a predator with its targeted prey.

  ‘You said it wasn’t to be a real marriage,’ she said, feeling her cheeks bloom with colour, and her whole body shiver in reaction as she thought of what a real marriage to him would involve if he put his mind to it. ‘You also intimated it was temporary. What sort of time limit are you thinking of?’

  ‘Molly is a tiny infant,’ he said. ‘She needs a full-time mother at least until she is of nursery-school age.’

  Sabrina felt suspicion crawl up her spine, making her sit more upright in her chair. ‘So what happens then?’ she asked.

  ‘I will engage the services of a nanny and then you can have your freedom.’

  Sabrina frowned at his arrogance. ‘So I am to be expelled from Molly’s life just like that?’ she asked.

  ‘Not necessarily from Molly’s life,’ he said. ‘But from mine. We can have a quiet dissolution of the marriage and then both get on with our lives.’

  ‘So let me get this straight,’ she said with a guarded look. ‘You get full guardianship of Molly in Italy while I get sent back to Australia, is that what you’re suggesting?’

  He gave an indifferent lift of one broad shoulder. ‘That will be entirely up to you, of course,’ he said. ‘As my ex-wife you will have full residency in my country, but whether you choose to live in Rome or Sydney will ultimately be your decision.’