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Sabrina felt her insides erupt into flames, the hot spurts of need anointing her intimately as she thought of what he would be like as a lover. Inexperienced as she was, she knew enough about him to know he would be everything a woman could want in a sexual partner: demanding, exciting, daring and dangerously attractive. The one kiss they had shared had shown her that and more. It had sent shooting sparks from one end of her body to the other, licking her senses into a frenzy of want. She could feel the pulse of her blood now, hectic and overly excited at his nearness. Her eyes went to his mouth, his fuller lower lip drawing her gaze like an industrial-sized magnet. All she had to do was step up on her tiptoes and their mouths would touch and burn…
The sound of other guests spilling out of the house was the only thing that saved Sabrina from making a total fool of herself all over again. She pulled out of Mario’s hold and slipped into the passenger seat, her legs still trembling long after he had stridden around and got in behind the wheel of her four-cylinder car.
Once he was sitting beside her, she suddenly realised how very small her car was. It was like a child’s toy; although he pushed back the driver’s seat to its maximum distance from the wheel to accommodate his length, every time he worked the gears she was aware of his suited arm within touching distance of her thigh.
‘I thought you would have hired some swanky Italian sportscar while you are here,’ she said once they were on their way. ‘Isn’t that what rich men like you do?’
‘I saw no need to waste money on one when I was only going to be here for such a short time,’ he answered evenly.
Sabrina chewed over that for a moment. ‘What if I hadn’t agreed to your plan?’ she asked, not trusting herself to look at him.
‘Then I would have found some way of convincing you,’ he said, equally smoothly.
This time she did look at him. ‘With blackmail, like you did with Ingrid and Stanley Knowles?’
He met her eyes for a brief moment, before turning back to the traffic. ‘I see no reason not to use a bit of pressure when it is warranted,’ he said.
Sabrina huddled in her seat, wondering how far he would have gone to make her change her mind if she had said no—not that she’d really had a chance to say no. Ingrid had come in and the words had tumbled out of Sabrina’s mouth, words that now tied her to a man she knew so little about.
It was a disturbing thought. All she knew was Mario Marcolini was ruthless in business and equally so in his private life. Women came and went from his life like clouds in the sky, none of them lasting long enough to make an impression on him. She wondered if he had been hurt by a past lover, or if he was just one of those men, all too common these days, who shied away from commitment. All she knew about his background was what Laura had told her in snatches, and, because Sabrina hadn’t wanted to sound too curious, she hadn’t asked the questions she had longed to know the answers to. Questions she had no right to even be thinking, let alone asking.
‘Where to from here?’ Mario asked when he came to a crossroads.
‘Turn right at the next lights,’ she said. ‘My flat is in the fourth building on the left, but really I don’t think it’s such a good idea for me to move into your hotel with—’
She stopped when she saw a news van parked outside her building, the cameras already being set up. ‘Oh no…’
‘Put your head down and ignore them,’ Mario said as he parked the car in the tenants’ parking area behind the tired-looking inner-city building. ‘I will deal with them while you go in and pack what you need. I can always send someone over later to get the rest.’
Mario fielded the press with a few short statements about his intentions, even embellishing the facts a little for his own amusement. He watched as the news team drove away a few minutes later, and then with a sigh of satisfaction turned and entered the building.
Sabrina’s flat was neat and tidy inside, but he could see why she had always sought employment in the upper echelons of society. Like the many gold-diggers he had met or had dealings with in the past, she was obviously looking for a way out of her current situation. A rich man, even if he was married, could set her up as his mistress. Things had backfired on her with Howard Roebourne, but no doubt there would be other rich men once he put an end to their temporary marriage, Mario thought sceptically.
‘How long have you lived here?’ Mario asked as she came out with a battered suitcase into the tiny lounge area.
‘A couple of years,’ she said. ‘I’d like something bigger and in a nicer suburb, but there’s really not much point when most of the families I have worked for have required me to live with them for extended periods.’
‘It must at times be difficult to have a private life when you are living with other people,’ he said, taking the bag out of her hand and placing it near the door. ‘No wonder you have been tempted to work and play under the same roof.’
Her grey eyes flashed as they hit his. ‘You think I’m a slut, don’t you? And yet the papers are full of your sexual exploits. Your double standards make me sick.’
‘I have not resorted to sleeping with married women,’ he said. ‘I have plenty of single and unattached ones to work my way through first.’
She swung away from him, snatching up her handbag and hoisting it over her shoulder. ‘I suppose you have a revolving door on your bedroom?’ she said, flashing him another glare.
Mario grinned at the thought. ‘Not yet, but it sounds like a great idea,’ he said.
Her glare intensified. ‘I think you are disgusting,’ she spat. ‘You have no morals. You probably don’t even spare the women you bed with another thought once you have done with them. It’s such a shallow and selfish way to live.’
‘It is no more shallow and selfish than touching what does not belong to you,’ he pointed out.
‘You know nothing about me,’ she said with a mulish jut of her chin as tears welled up in her eyes. ‘You think you do, but you don’t.’
He pushed himself away from the door frame where he had been leaning. ‘I know what Howard Roebourne told me about you.’
Sabrina felt her face drain of colour as her heart began to pound sickeningly. ‘H-how do you know him?’ she asked.
‘The business world is not as big as you might think,’ he answered. ‘Roebourne and I move in the same financial circles. I happened to run into him at a corporate function when I was here the last time.’
‘W-what did he say?’ she asked, even though she wasn’t sure she really wanted to know. After that last horrible scene with her previous employer, she could not think of a single thing he could say that would paint her in an attractive light.
‘Nothing I had not already worked out for myself,’ he said with an enigmatic smile.
Sabrina silently ground her teeth. So that was why he had allowed her to kiss him on the day of Molly’s christening, to see if what he had heard about her was true. Her shameless grasp at him hadn’t done her any favours, she realised now when it was far too late to do anything to change things. If he had only suspected she was a wanton woman before, her behaviour at the christening would have been more than enough confirmation that his suspicions were accurate. She had acted so out of character that day. She had blamed the three glasses of champagne she had consumed, but she had only drunk them out of sheer nervousness in his presence.
It had started the day of the wedding when he had captured her gaze and held it. Something had passed between them that day, something visceral. And then at the christening it had been activated all over again by Mario’s debonair charm, his lethally attractive smile, and the sensual glide of his hand on her bare arm as he had taken the baby from her. She had felt it as soon as his eyes had locked with hers, drawing her to him, holding her, making her burn for him as if he had turned on a switch inside her body. Try as she might, she hadn’t been able to locate it since and turn it off. She had felt that same tingle of awareness even when his name had been mentioned, let alone standing in his presence as she was doing now.
‘Are you ready to leave?’ he asked as he picked up Molly in the baby carrier in one hand and her old suitcase in the other.
‘Yes,’ she said, avoiding his eyes.
Once Molly was back in the car and the suitcase stowed, Mario got back behind the wheel. ‘I suppose I should warn you that the press will go wild about our forthcoming marriage,’ he said. ‘I know you are not keen on the idea, but I think the best approach is to let everyone believe this is a genuine love-match. That is what I told them back there at your flat. They seemed to be delighted by it.’
Sabrina stared at him in wide-eyed alarm. ‘You told them I was in love with you?’
He grinned at her wickedly. ‘Of course I did. I have my reputation to maintain, don’t forget. I can’t have people thinking you married me for my money. It’s demeaning.’
‘But I am only marrying you because of Molly, and it was your choice to pay me,’ she pointed out wryly.
He gave a shrug of indifference. ‘Yes, but no one else needs to know that. Have you decided how much you want?’
Sabrina swallowed tightly as she turned to look out of the passenger window. There was no amount of money on this earth that would ever bring her best friend back, but if she could put any of the money Mario gave her into an investment account for Molly it would be something. When Sabrina’s mother had died, she had been left with nothing. The stigma of being penniless and at the mercy of others’ charity had never left her, even after all these years. Of course Molly, being under Mario’s protection, would want for nothing, but Sabrina wanted to demonstrate her commitment to her godchild by herself providing her with a nest egg when she came of age. She was determined not to touch a penny of it for herself.
‘I can almost hear the ching-ching of the cash register in your brain,’ Mario said. ‘You are doing the sums, calculating how much you will need to set yourself up for life.’
She sent him a spiteful glance. ‘I want half a million for every year we are married.’
‘In Australian dollars or euros?’ he asked without flinching.
Sabrina tried to recall the current exchange-rate. ‘Um…in euros,’ she said, wishing she had asked for more just to annoy him.
‘If you give me your details, I will make sure the first instalment is in there once we are married.’
Sabrina toyed with the strap of her handbag for a moment. ‘You said earlier you expected me to take your name,’ she said, pausing to glance at him again. ‘Is that really necessary in this day and age?’
‘Sabrina Marcolini,’ he drawled. ‘Now that has rather a nice ring to it, does it not?’
She pursed her lips. ‘I prefer Halliday. It was my mother’s maiden name.’
‘You don’t have a father?’
‘Not that I know of,’ she said, fiddling with her handbag strap again. ‘My mother never mentioned him. I think he might have been married or something. She seemed reluctant to give me any details. I found a photo once, but when I asked who it was she scrunched it up and I never saw it again.’
There was a momentary silence.
‘You said it was your mother’s name,’ he said. ‘Does that mean she has since married again?’
‘No, it means she is dead,’ Sabrina said, stripping her voice of the aching emotion she still felt. ‘She died when I was ten. The train she was travelling to work on was derailed. She was the last to be pulled out of the wreckage.’
‘I am very sorry,’ he said. ‘Neither Ric nor Laura ever mentioned it to me.’
‘Laura understood how hard it was to grow up without a mother,’ she said. ‘She lost hers when she was a little older than I was, but when her father married Ingrid only weeks later she was totally devastated. She felt she had lost both of her parents right then and there. Her father died just before she met Ric…but I suppose you know all this?’
He shifted the gears, a frown stitching his brow. ‘I did not really know Laura all that well,’ he said. ‘I only met her for the first time at the wedding, where, if you remember, I also met you. Ric and I went to elementary school together. We remained in close contact even when his family emigrated to Australia when he was fourteen.’
‘Did you ever visit him?’
‘Yes, I have been to Australia seven times now, and Ric came back to Italy on holidays occasionally,’ he said. ‘My brother was here in Sydney just a couple of months ago.’
‘Yes, I read about it in the paper,’ Sabrina said. ‘I saw the name and assumed it was your brother. He was here for a lecturing tour, wasn’t he?’
‘Yes, but also to sort things out with his estranged wife.’
Sabrina felt her brows lift up in intrigue. ‘Oh?’
He changed the gears again. ‘They were living apart for five years but they are back together now,’ he said. ‘They renewed their vows only a few weeks ago. They are expecting a child in a few months.’
‘Are you pleased about their reconciliation?’ she asked, watching his expression for a moment.
‘I am very happy for them both,’ he answered after a pause. ‘I might not be a family man, but I recognise when a couple belong together. There was a time however when I thought Antonio would have been better off moving on without Claire, but I am prepared to admit I was wrong.’
‘I don’t think it is wise to take sides in a marital dispute,’ Sabrina said, thinking of all the times Laura had let off steam about Ric’s hot-headed stubbornness, only to be madly in love with him the next moment.
As the silence stretched Sabrina couldn’t help feeling Mario’s brother’s situation explained a lot about his cynical attitude towards relationships. He had seen his brother go through a lengthy estrangement. There was no way he was going to give any woman in his life the same opportunity to put his life on hold. His relationships were on his terms and his terms only. Love didn’t come into it, nor did permanency, even when there was a child involved.
Mario needed her now to act as a substitute mother to Molly, but she was on borrowed time, and if she had any hope of coming out of this with her heart intact she had better keep reminding herself of it.
This is not for ever.
This is not for real.
She took a mental gulp and added: this is dangerous.
CHAPTER THREE
THE hotel Mario was staying in was exactly where Sabrina had expected someone of his ilk to stay: top-end luxury, panoramic harbour views, several five-star restaurants, as well as a piano bar and an in-house gym, and a health spa which was second to none in terms of decadent indulgence. His penthouse suite was superbly decorated with the latest in high-street trends, the modern open-plan design making it feel more like a mansion than a hotel apartment.
The views from every window were breathtaking, even for someone who had lived in Sydney all of her life, Sabrina conceded. The harbour was dotted with colourful yachts and the bustle of passenger ferries criss-crossing the sparkling waters to take commuters and tourists wherever they needed to go.
Molly was still sleeping in her carrier, which gave Sabrina time to unpack a few things into the spacious wardrobe Mario had told her she was to use during their short stay.
However, she resolutely turned her back on the massive king-size bed made up in a thousand threads of Egyptian cotton, with numerous feather pillows, and a doona that looked as if it was filled with air. But even so she couldn’t help thinking of Mario lying there, possibly naked; yes, she decided, he would definitely be a naked sleeper, his long, tanned limbs splayed out in any number of erotic poses.
She gave herself a stern mental shake and concentrated on the job at hand. She had a tiny baby to settle into yet another routine, and in a few days a long-haul flight to another country, a country where she knew only the basics of communication, in spite of Laura’s giggling tutorage over the last few months.
It struck Sabrina again, then, how surreal the last few days had been. Laura, the one friend who had understood her passion for connection and belonging, was gone, never to return. She kept thinking someone was going to shake her awake and tell her it was all a mistake, that the bodies taken from the wreckage of Ric’s car were not those of him and Laura but someone else, strangers, no one she knew—no one she loved so dearly and would miss for the rest of her life.
Just like the day her mother had died, Sabrina was alone again… Well, not quite alone. She had Molly, dear, precious little Molly, who was thankfully oblivious to what had passed in the last few days. There would be a day when she would need to be told the truth about her real parents. Sabrina could only hope she would be around to tell Molly what a wonderful and loving mother Laura had been, how much she had loved her baby and had wanted the best for her, leaving her in the care of the two people she had trusted most in the world: her husband’s best friend and hers.
How ironic that those two people hated each other, even though they both loved the child, Sabrina thought as she folded another pink baby-suit and laid it on the shelf.
The baby gave a grizzling sound, and Sabrina went over to her, scooping her out of the carrier and cuddling her close, breathing in that sweet infant smell, her hand cupping the black down of that tiny, silky head. ‘Shh, my precious,’ she said softly. ‘I know this is all new to you. It’s all new to me too. We’ll have to take one day at a time until I can think of a way out of this.’
Mario heard Sabrina’s voice just as he came to the door of the bedroom. So she was thinking of an escape route, was she? Not while he had anything to do about it, he determined. She would likely face a kidnap charge if she left without consulting him as co-guardian.
Ric’s wife had had nothing but good to say about her friend, but that didn’t mean Sabrina hadn’t personally woven the wool she had pulled over Laura’s eyes. Mario had to admit Sabrina had an innocent look about her that was beguiling to say the least. Ric had obviously fallen for it too; he had told Mario at the wedding how delightful Sabrina was, how charming, how unworldly, shy and self-effacing, even dropping broad hints about what a suitable partner she would make for him. Mario had laughed off the suggestion; he had met plenty of supposedly shy women in the past and in his experience they were the ones who turned out to be the most devious and coolly calculating. It was the quiet ones you had to watch.
And he had been right about Sabrina. His interesting little conversation with Howard Roebourne the evening before Molly’s christening had confirmed what a go-getter Sabrina was behind that sweet girl-next-door exterior. The woman who had thrown herself into his arms for those few stolen moments had been hot and hungry, her mouth like an open fire, her tongue a flame that had scorched his, branding him with an imprint he had not been able to erase. He could still taste the sweet temptation of her cushioned lips, the way they had moulded so perfectly to his. Their passionate clinch had been interrupted before he’d been able to take things any further, but he was in no doubt he could have had her then and there. In fact, he was in little doubt he could have her any time he wanted to if he put his mind to it. He saw the way she looked at him with those smoky-grey eyes of hers, the sensual need in them unmistakable.
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