Latin Lovers: Italian Playboys: Bought for the Marriage Bed / The Italian GP's Bride / The Italian's Defiant Mistress

CHAPTER FOUR

NINA called in sick at the library the next day in order to sort out childcare arrangements but her efforts were not encouraging. As she didn’t have a car, she was limited to using a private centre whose fees were extortionate. She had no choice but to make the booking, hoping that her niece would cope with the change without too much fuss.

The next two days passed without any further contact from Marc. At times Nina wondered if she’d imagined the whole thing, so unreal it seemed, but on the third day a letter arrived, the first page of the thick document informing her that the marriage ceremony would be on July the fifteenth.

She felt her spine buckle in trepidation. It seemed there was no way out. She would have to marry Marc in order to keep Georgia. She would have to continue to deceive him, even though in doing so she was going to be fuelling his hatred even more.

The thought of pretending to be her sister for months, maybe even years on end, terrified her but she couldn’t see any alternative. It was incredible to think that a few simple words stood between her and her freedom. If she told him: ‘I am not Georgia’s mother’, the marriage would be called off.

Five words and she would be free.

Five simple words that would grant her instant freedom, but take away her niece—permanently.

As she had more or less expected, there had been no further contact from Nadia. Nina had tried her mobile repeatedly, but each time the message service informed her the phone was out of service, and the numerous text messages she’d sent went unanswered. As her sister hadn’t given her a forwarding address it made it even more impossible for Nina to escape the tight net that was surrounding her minute by minute.

She tossed the letter from Marc aside to respond to Georgia’s cries for attention, doing her best to keep her mind away from the thought of being married to a man who hated her so much.

As she came back out to the small sitting room with Georgia tucked close to her, the phone rang and she reached to answer it.

‘Nina.’ Marc’s deep voice sounded in her ear. ‘It’s Marc.’

‘Marc who?’ She was back in Nadia’s personality as if by simply hearing his smooth as melted chocolate voice an internal switch had flicked back on inside her.

She heard his indrawn breath and mentally congratulated herself for winning this small battle even though she knew he was more than likely to win the war in the end.

‘I am quite sure with the reputation you have worked on so assiduously you have doubled up on some names by now,’ he drawled insolently.

‘Wouldn’t you like to know,’ she threw back.

‘Did you get my letter?’

‘Let me see …’ She rustled the small collection of bills that had gathered on the table beside her just to irritate him. ‘Ah, yes, here it is. It’s a pre-nup, isn’t it?’

‘You surely did not think I would marry you without protecting myself?’

‘That depends on what sort of protection you’re talking about.’

‘This is a business deal, Nina, nothing more and nothing less.’

‘Fine by me,’ she said. ‘As long as you don’t try and go back on your word. How do I know if I can trust you?’

There was a brief but tense pause.

Nina imagined him grinding his teeth on the other end in an effort to maintain some sort of politeness and her stomach gave another funny little quiver.

‘You will get your allowance as soon as the marriage is conducted and not a second before,’ he bit out at last.

‘Don’t you trust me, Mr Marcello?’ She used her sister’s tone with relish. ‘Do you think I might try and dupe you?’

‘I would very much like to see you try,’ he challenged her darkly. ‘I am sure I do not have to warn you of the consequences if there is any double-dealing on your part.’

Nina couldn’t help an inward shiver at the irony of his coolly delivered statement. As far as double-dealing went, hadn’t she already dug her own grave?

‘By the way,’ he said, ‘since we are marrying in a matter of days it is hardly appropriate for you to continue to call me by my surname.’

‘Marc.’ She breathed his name seductively. ‘Is that short for Marco?’

‘No, it is short for Marc,’ he said. ‘It is French, like my mother.’ ‘Do you speak French as well as Italian?’ ‘Yes, along with several other languages.’ She was privately impressed but wasn’t going to acknowledge it to him.

‘What about you?’ he asked when she didn’t immediately respond.

‘Me?’ She gave a quick snort. ‘All that foreign rubbish? No way! English is the universal language, why anyone would bother chattering away in anything else is completely beyond me.’

She was more or less fluent in both his mother’s tongue and in Italian, but had decided to keep it to herself. She’d studied languages at both school and tertiary level and enjoyed a certain level of proficiency. But it suited her purpose to let him think her a complete airhead who had nothing better to do than primp and preen to fill the time.

‘I have made an appointment with my lawyer to meet us at my office for us to sign the pre-nuptial agreement. You will also need to bring along your birth certificate so I can arrange the marriage licence,’ he said. ‘Is ten a.m. tomorrow convenient?’

Nina’s heart started to pound with misgivings. Pretending to be her sister had been manageable to begin with, but now she was going to be signing binding documents in the presence of a lawyer. What if she were sent to prison for fraud? What would happen to Georgia then? Just as well she’d told him her real name was Nina, and even more fortunate she was the older twin, for only her name appeared on the document, making no mention of her twin as was the practice at the time. But what if he ever looked at Georgia’s birth certificate? Nadia’s name was printed there, not hers. How would she be able to explain that?

‘Nina?’ His deep voice interrupted her quiet panic.

‘Sorry.’ She hitched her niece a little higher on her hip. ‘Georgia was slipping.’

‘You are holding her?’

Just then Georgia gave a happy little gurgle as if she were responding to the sound of her uncle’s voice.

‘Yes,’ Nina said, smiling down at her niece. ‘I was about to put her back down for a sleep when you called.’

‘How is she?’

‘She’s fine.’

‘Does she wake much at night?’

‘Once or twice,’ she told him. ‘But she soon settles back down.’ ‘Tell me something, Nina.’ An indefinable quality entered his voice. ‘Do you enjoy being a mother?’

Nina didn’t hesitate in responding, ‘Of course I do.’ There was a strange little silence.

She wondered if she should have been quite so honest. Perhaps Nadia would have answered completely differently and he was temporarily thrown by the sudden change of character.

‘You do not strike me as the maternal type.’ His tone was laced with scorn.

‘What do I strike you as, Marc?’ she asked in her most seductive voice, determined to make amends for her previous lapse in character.

Sitting in his office, Marc sighed, ignoring her last remark. ‘I’ll pick you up at nine-fifteen tomorrow,’ he told her.

‘Do you have a baby seat in your car?’ she asked.

Marc frowned. He hadn’t even thought about those sorts of details.

‘I will have one fitted this afternoon.’

‘I can catch a bus,’ she offered. ‘Where is your office?’

‘I insist on picking you up.’

‘I won’t be going with you if your car isn’t adequately fitted for carrying a child. It’s not safe.’

Marc released his tight breath. ‘I will have the seat fitted if it is the last thing I do, all right?’

‘Good,’ she said. ‘Can I trust you on that?’

Marc closed his eyes and counted to ten.

‘Marc?’

His eyes sprang open at the sound of his name on her lips. She had such a breathy voice, like a feather stroking along the sensitive skin on the back of his neck.

‘Yes …’ He cleared his throat. ‘You can trust me.’

‘I’ll see you tomorrow then,’ she said into the small silence.

‘Yes.’ Marc released his suddenly choking tie. ‘See you tomorrow.’

The doorbell rang at nine-fifteen the next morning, but Georgia was still crying, as she had done from the moment she’d woken at five a.m.

Nina was getting desperate. She was already aching with tiredness, and the beginning of what promised to be a monumental headache was marshalling at the back of her eyes.

She gently patted Georgia’s back as she answered the door, her hair hanging limply around her shoulders and her eyes hollow from lack of sleep.

When she saw the tall imposing figure of Marc Marcello standing there it was all she could do to stop herself from howling in a similar vein to the small child in her arms.

‘Is she sick?’ Marc asked, stepping inside.

Nina brushed a long strand of hair out of her face and gave him an agonised look as the door closed behind him. ‘I don’t know. She’s been like this from the moment she woke up.’

Marc took the baby from her, resting his open palm over the baby’s forehead to check for a temperature.

‘She is warm but not overly so.’ He lifted his eyes back to Nina’s. ‘Has she had a feed?’

Nina shook her head. ‘She turned away from it. I’ve offered it three or four times but she keeps pushing it away.’

‘Maybe she needs to see a doctor,’ he suggested. ‘Who do you usually see?’

Nina looked at him blankly. For the life of her she couldn’t think of who Nadia had taken Georgia to for her monthly check-ups, if indeed she had at all.

‘I …’

Marc gave her an accusing look. ‘You have taken her to a doctor, haven’t you?’

‘Ah …’

He let out his breath on a hiss of fury. ‘This is a small child,’ he railed at her. ‘She is supposed to have regular jabs and weigh-ins to make sure she is growing to schedule.’

‘She’s perfectly healthy,’ Nina said, wincing as Georgia let out another howl of misery.

Marc raised an accusing brow as the baby continued to cry in his arms. ‘You think so?’

Nina bit her lip. ‘Maybe she’s teething.’

‘She is how old? Four months? Isn’t that a little early?’

‘I don’t know! I’ve never—’ She stopped herself from saying the rest. How close she had been to telling him she knew nothing about babies! What sort of mother would he think her?

Marc had turned back to the infant, his strong capable hands stroking along Georgia’s back as he held her. After a moment or two the crying subsided to a few soft hiccups and after another minute or two the tiny eyelids fluttered closed.

Nina couldn’t help admiring his technique. God knew she’d been up for hours trying to get the baby to settle to no avail. A part of her felt resentful that he’d achieved it instead of her. Another part of her secretly admired him.

‘Go and get ready.’ Marc spoke to her in a lowered voice so as not to disturb the child. ‘We have a few minutes up our sleeves but the traffic at this time of day is always an unknown variable.’

Nina made her way to her room and softly closed the door behind her. She peered into the contents of her wardrobe with dismay. Most of her clothes were either too conservative or out of date. Her work as a librarian didn’t require any degree of fashionable attire, and as she’d so often had to bail her sister out of debt she hadn’t bought anything new for herself in ages. She had jeans in abundance, mostly cast-offs from Nadia, and a collection of tops, also from Nadia, most of which showed far more than they concealed.

In the end she chose one of Nadia’s cast-offs. She was supposed to be her sister so she figured she might as well dress like her, even though she cringed at the thought of showing off so much of her body, especially to someone so discerning of female flesh as Marc Marcello.

Everything about him unsettled her. It wasn’t just the fact that he thought her to be her sister, although that in itself was a major stumbling block, especially to her peace of mind, but his whole manner seemed threatening in an overtly male sort of way. Although she was aware that deep down he was acting out of similar motives to her own, she couldn’t help feeling on edge around him. She knew some of it probably came from her lack of experience with men; she just didn’t know how to manage a man who was so strong, so in control and so determined.

Marc Marcello wasn’t exactly the type of man one could ignore. He was the sort of man who was used to being obeyed—insisted on it, in fact.

She sighed a little shakily as she straightened the close-fitting dress. She wished pretending to be her sister was as easy as putting on her twin’s clothes: that way she wouldn’t feel so nervous all the time in case he saw through her act. She snatched up a cashmere cardigan, slung it casually around her shoulders and made her way out to where Marc was waiting.

He was standing with the baby in his arms, the usually hard lines of his face soft as he gazed down at her sleeping form.

Nina drew in a painful breath at the sight before her. He clearly adored his brother’s child and would do anything to protect her, even going so far as to marry a woman he loathed.

Marc turned to look at her and his expression instantly hardened. ‘Are you ready?’

She nodded and, scooping up Georgia’s changing bag, followed him out of the flat.

The trip to Marc’s office was a silent one and Nina was immensely grateful for it. Georgia had finally accepted a bottle and fallen asleep not long after she’d been placed in the baby seat in the back of Marc’s showroom-perfect car. Marc himself was concentrating on the thick morning traffic in front of him, his dark unreadable eyes looking straight ahead, his gaze never once veering her way.

Nina inspected her chewed nails for a moment as she considered what lay ahead. What had he told the lawyer about their sudden marriage? Was she supposed to pretend things were normal between them just like any other couple, or had Marc informed his lawyer of the particulars, Georgia of course being the primary one?

She curled her fingers into her palms and drew in a ragged breath.

Five words, she reminded herself. Five words and it could all end right here and now.

Sure, he’d have the power to remove Georgia from her custody, but maybe she’d be able to convince him to let her see her occasionally. Aunts had some sort of rights, didn’t they? Not only that, she was also Georgia’s godmother, although she’d never really understood why Nadia had bothered with the formality since the last time she had been in church was probably when she had been christened herself.

She sent him a covert glance but his head was turned towards the parking turnstile beneath the office tower he’d turned into, his hand reaching out of the driver’s window to swipe his entry card.

The car surged forward as the boom rose and Nina turned back to face the front, not sure she wanted him to see the indecision and guilt written all over her face.

Once they were parked she got out of the car and began fitting the baby carrying pouch to her chest, her fingers almost shaking as she tried to fasten the buckle.

Marc handed Georgia to her, helpfully feeding the infant’s legs through the appropriate holes. Nina felt the brush of his hand on her left breast and reared backwards as if he’d touched her with a heated brand.

His eyes met hers, the dark depths of his black gaze glittering with dislike.

‘I would advise against any overt displays of distaste for my touch whilst we are in the presence of my lawyer,’ he said. ‘He believes this to be a normal marriage and I would prefer him to continue to do so in spite of what we both know privately to be true.’

Nina’s eyes flashed as she adjusted the baby-carrier straps over her shoulders. ‘It’s not exactly normal to force someone to marry you.’

He activated the central locking and alarm system on his car before responding. ‘You will be more than adequately compensated for your efforts.’

‘Isn’t the fact that I’m coming here to sign a pre-nuptial agreement going to make him suspicious?’ she asked.

‘Pre-nuptial agreements are commonplace these days. Besides, I have shareholders and investors I need to protect, not to mention my father, who started the business from scratch. I will not stand by and watch a money-hungry little whore take half of all we have both worked so hard for if the marriage were to end.’

Although Nina knew everything he said was reasonable under the circumstances, she still felt hurt by his assessment of her motives. She wished he could see through her thin guise to the person she really was, not an opportunistic money-grabbing bed-hopping pleasure seeker, but a young woman who cared deeply for her tiny niece, so deeply, in fact, that she was prepared to marry a complete stranger.

She closed her mouth on her response and followed him into the lift he’d summoned. She stared fixedly at the numbers on the panel rather than look at him, but she was acutely aware of him standing beside her, his broad shoulder not quite touching hers, although she could feel the warmth of his body all the same.

The lift felt too small. Her chest felt too tight. Her legs felt like wet wool instead of toned muscle and bone. Her mind was a mess of disordered thoughts—thoughts of escape, thoughts of telling the truth, thoughts of what would happen if she went along with the lies she’d told, spending the rest of her life waiting for the axe to fall when the truth finally came out, as she knew it most certainly would.

So far she’d been lucky. He hadn’t asked for Georgia’s birth certificate, but it wouldn’t be long before he did, particularly if he intended to formally adopt her. She knew he intended for his father to see his only grandchild, which would mean a trip to Italy. Would it even be legal for her to take Georgia out of the country? What if somebody asked to see the birth certificate and found out she wasn’t in fact Georgia’s mother? What then?

Suddenly conscious of Marc’s probing gaze, she quickly covered her inner disquiet by plastering a vacant smile on her face. ‘What are you smirking at?’ Marc looked down at her derisively. ‘How quickly you are going to work your way through your allowance?’

‘That depends on how generous it is,’ she tossed back.

Marc rolled his eyes and stabbed at the lift button once more as if to hurry its pace.

‘We are not married yet so I would advise against counting your pennies until they have been dispatched,’ he growled.

The lift doors sprang open and Nina followed the rigid line of his back as he made his way to his suite of offices.

It gave her a much needed sense of power to see how much she rattled him.

As far as she knew she had never got underneath anyone’s skin before; that had always been Nadia’s role, and yet the thought of Marc Marcello fighting an unwilling attraction to her was both strangely tantalizing and terrifying. She’d seen the way he’d looked at her when he’d thought she wasn’t looking, his dark eyes lingering on her body as if he just couldn’t help himself. It made her skin prickle all over in awareness to even think about him seeing her in such a light, let alone ever acting on it.

Her reaction to him totally confused her. She was supposed to hate him for what he was doing but somehow it wasn’t quite working. Every time his eyes moved over her she felt as if he was transmitting heat from his body to hers. That brief accidental brush of his hand over her breast had felt like an electric shock, sending her pulse racing and her heart kicking in reaction.

She had to take better control, she mentally chided herself. To fall in love with Marc Marcello was asking for the sort of trouble she could well do without, considering the mess she was already in.

The reception area of Marc’s banking empire could leave no one in any doubt of the company’s considerable profits, Nina thought a short time later. From the sweeping computer console in the reception area fitted out in shining galaxy black marble, complete with a catwalk perfect receptionist, to the plush ankle-deep carpet on the floor, and the stunning views over the city from every window, it all left one with the impression that the Marcello merchant bank knew how to do business and do it extremely well.

Nina glanced towards a painting hung over the waiting room area, her eyes widening when she realized it wasn’t a print but an actual Renoir.

‘Mr Marcello,’ the receptionist purred at her boss. ‘Mr Highgate is waiting for you in the guest lounge adjoining your office.’

Nina’s eyebrows rose. Even his lawyer thought the common waiting room beneath him, did he?

‘Follow me,’ Marc addressed Nina over one shoulder.

Something in her decided right there and then that she wasn’t going to be ordered around in front of his staff, and in particular in front of his gorgeous receptionist, who had done nothing but stare at her the whole time she’d been there.

‘Hello.’ Nina held out her hand across the reception desk. ‘I’m Nina, Marc’s fiancée. And this is Georgia. She’s Marc’s niece, you know. Andre’s child.’

The receptionist reared away from Nina’s outstretched hand as if by touching it she might be fired on the spot.

‘I … I thought your name was Nadia,’ the young woman finally managed to get out. ‘And don’t you remember?’ She eye-balled Nina accusingly. ‘We’ve met before.’

Nina hadn’t even considered the possibility that her sister might have called at the Marcello office tower at some stage in the past.

Her colour came and went as she tried to think of an excuse for not recognising the young woman but her brain felt as if someone had pulled the plug and she was left floundering.

‘It was when Marc was in Italy last September,’ the receptionist went on, her mouth tight with reproach. ‘Andre was in a meeting but you insisted on seeing him.’

Nina was very aware of Marc listening to every word of this exchange and had to think on her feet to find a way out of it without blowing her cover.

Mentally counting back the months she realised Nadia must have come to see Andre well into the pregnancy, possibly as a last attempt to try to force his hand. She lowered her head in a gesture of contrition, her hand idly stroking the back of baby Georgia’s head where she was snuggled up against her in the pouch.

‘Yes … well, I wasn’t really myself back then … hormones, you know …’

The receptionist peered over the console at the sleeping baby, her stern expression instantly softening. ‘She’s very like Andre, isn’t she?’

Nina nodded, deciding it was probably wiser not to respond verbally even if she could have located her voice.

‘Hold all my calls please, Katrina,’ Marc’s deep voice commanded, interrupting the tight little exchange. ‘Come on, cara, we have some business to see to.’

Cara? Nina disguised her frown just in time. She wasn’t sure she could handle him addressing her with Italian endearments. It made her feel as if their relationship was shifting to another level, a level she had no experience in dealing with.

She followed him down the spacious hall where even more priceless artworks were hung in stately array, each one reminding her of the amount of money Marc Marcello had at his fingertips if ever he decided to run her out of town—without Georgia.