‘You will be at my hotel with me,’ he said.

‘Is–is that such a good idea?’ she said, her frown deepening, her heart stuttering in panic. ‘I mean…will there be room for us?’

The look in his eyes was inscrutable, but there was a hint of amusement lurking around his mouth. ‘Molly can sleep in her pram and you can sleep in my bed.’

Sabrina’s eyes widened, her heart giving that annoying little extra beat again. ‘Are you by any chance going to be there too?’ she asked, with an attempt at an arch look.

‘In my bed, do you mean?’

She nodded, hastily disguising a nervous swallow.

‘Only if I am invited,’ he said, with a sexy slant of his mouth.

Melanie Milburne says: One of the greatest joys of being a writer is the process of falling in love with the characters and then watching as they fall in love with each other. I am an absolutely hopeless romantic. I fell in love with my husband on our second date, and we even had a secret engagement, so you see it must have been destined for me to be a Harlequin Mills & Boon author! The other great joy of being a romance writer is hearing from readers. You can hear all about the other things I do when I’m not writing, and even drop me a line at: www.melaniemilburne.com.au

Recent titles by the same author:

THE VENADICCI MARRIAGE VENGEANCE

THE FIORENZA FORCED MARRIAGE

THE MARCIANO LOVE-CHILD

INNOCENT WIFE, BABY OF SHAME

The Royal House of Niroli:

SURGEON PRINCE, ORDINARY WIFE

(Book 2)

Did you know that Melanie also writes for Medical™ Romance?

SINGLE DAD SEEKS A WIFE

(The Brides of Penhally Bay) THE SURGEON BOSS’S BRIDE HER MAN OF HONOUR

Don’t miss Melanie Milburne’s book

THE FUTURE-KING’S LOVE-CHILD

out in October 2009

part of THE ROYAL HOUSE OF KAREDES

BOUND BY
THE MARCOLINI
DIAMONDS

BY

MELANIE MILBURNE

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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BOUND BY THE MARCOLINI DIAMONDS

I have often seen books dedicated to editors or agents in the past, and thought—No, I don’t need to do that. This is business. But I am afraid I cannot write another book without publicly thanking my current editor, Jenny Hutton, who has been the most amazing support to me both professionally and personally. This one is for you, Jenny, and I hope we get to do many more together. XX

CHAPTER ONE

IT SEEMED like only weeks ago that Sabrina had attended her best friend’s wedding, now she was attending her funeral. Any funeral was sad, but a double one had to be the worst, she thought as Laura and her husband Ric’s coffins were solemnly carried out of the church by the dark-suited pallbearers.

Sabrina caught the eye of the tallest of the men bearing Ric’s coffin, but quickly shifted her gaze, her heart starting and stopping like an old engine. Those coal-black eyes had communicated much more to her than was fitting for a funeral. Even with her head well down, she could still feel the scorch of his gaze on her, the sensitive skin on the back of her neck feeling as if a thousand nerves were dancing with excitement in anticipation of the stroke of his hand, or the burning brush of his sensual lips.

Sabrina cuddled Molly close to her chest and joined the rest of the mourners outside the church, taking some comfort in the fact that at only four months old the little baby would not remember the tragic accident that had taken both her parents from her. Unlike Sabrina, Molly would not remember the sickly sweet smell of the lilies and the sight of the grief-stricken faces, nor would she remember the burial, nor watch in crushing despair as her mother was lowered into the ground, knowing that she was now all alone in the world.

The procession moved to the cemetery, and after a brief but poignant service there the mourners moved on to Laura’s stepmother’s house for refreshments.

Ingrid Knowles was in her element as the grieving hostess. She brandished a rarely empty glass of wine as she chatted her way through the crowd of mourners, her make-up still intact, every strand of her perfectly coiffed bottle-blonde hair lacquered firmly in place.

Sabrina kept a low profile, hovering in the background to keep Molly from being disturbed by the at-times rowdy chatter. Most of Laura and Ric’s close friends had left soon after the service—apart from Mario Marcolini. From the moment he had entered the house he had stood with his back leaning indolently against the wall near the bay window, with a brooding expression on his arrestingly handsome face, not speaking, not drinking…just watching.

Sabrina tried not to look at him, but every now and again her eyes would drift back to him seemingly of their own volition, and, each time they did, she encountered his dark, cynical gaze centred on hers.

She quickly looked away again, her heart skipping a beat and her skin breaking out in a moist wave of heat as she remembered what had happened the last time they had been alone together.

She was almost glad when Molly started to become restless so she could escape to another room to see to the little baby’s needs.

When Sabrina came back out a few minutes later, Mario was no longer leaning against the wall. She let out a breath of relief, assuming he had left, when all of a sudden she felt every hair on the back of her neck rise to attention when she felt a hard male body brush against her from behind.

‘I did not expect to see you again so soon,’ Mario said in his deeply accented, mellifluous voice.

Sabrina took a shaky step forward and slowly turned around, cradling Molly protectively against her breasts. ‘No, I…I guess not.’ She lowered her eyes from the startling intensity of his dark brown ones, her brain scrambling for something else to say to fill the gaping silence. What was it about this man that made her feel like a nervous schoolgirl instead of a mature woman of twenty-five? He was so sophisticated, so urbane, such a man of the world, and she was so—she hated to say it but it was true—gauche.

‘Um, it was very good of you to come all the way back to Australia when you’d only just left,’ she mumbled.

‘Not at all,’ he said in a tone that had a rough, sandpaper sort of quality to it. ‘It was the least I could do.’

There was another loaded silence.

Sabrina moistened the parchment of her lips, trying not to look at him, trying not to think of how close he was standing to her, and how foolishly she had reacted to that closeness just a matter of weeks ago. Would she ever be able to erase that totally embarrassing—no, mortifying—few minutes from her mind?

‘Laura’s stepmother seems to be enjoying herself,’ Mario commented.

Sabrina met his sardonic, midnight gaze. ‘Yes. I’m kind of glad now Laura’s father isn’t around to see it,’ she said. ‘Laura would be so embarrassed if…’ She bit her lip, unable to speak, fresh tears springing to her eyes as she bowed her head.

She felt a warm and very large hand touch her briefly on the shoulder, the tingling sensation it set off under her skin feeling as if a million bubbles of an effervescent liquid had been injected into her blood.

She brought her gaze back to his once more, a rueful grimace contorting her face. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I’m trying to be strong for Molly’s sake, but sometimes I just…’

‘Do not apologise,’ he said in that same deep, gravel-rough tone. He paused for a moment and, lowering his gaze to the sleeping baby in her arms, asked, ‘Do you think Molly is aware of what is happening?’

Sabrina looked down at the tiny baby and released a sigh. ‘She’s only four months old, so it’s hard to say. She is feeding and sleeping well, but that’s probably because she is used to me looking after her occasionally.’

Another silence tightened the air, tighter, tighter and tighter, until Sabrina could feel the tension building in her throat. She felt like a hand was round her neck, the pressure slowly building and building.

‘Is there somewhere we can speak together in private?’ Mario asked.

Sabrina felt that same invisible hand suddenly reach inside her and clutch at her insides and squeeze. She had sworn after the last time that she would never allow herself to be alone again with Mario Marcolini. It was too dangerous. The man was a notorious playboy; even in a state of grief he was unable to shake off his air of rakish charm. She felt the warm waves of male interest washing over her even now, those sleep-with-me dark eyes of his sending a shiver of reaction racing up and down her spine every time they came into contact with hers.

Her eyes flicked briefly to his mouth, her stomach knotting all over again at the thought of how she had been tempted to taste its promise of passion in the past. Her lips had never felt quite the same since, nor had the rest of her body, which had been jammed up against him so tightly she had felt every hard, male ridge of him…

Sabrina gave herself a mental shake. This was hardly the time or place to be thinking of her one and only lapse into stupidity. She squared her shoulders and nodded towards a room off the main living area. ‘There’s a small study through there,’ she said. ‘It’s where I put Molly’s pram and changing bag earlier.’

She led the way, conscious of his gaze on her with every not-quite-steady step she took. No doubt he was comparing her to all the glamorous women he cavorted with back home in Europe, she thought with a kernel of bitterness lodging in her throat. His latest mistress was a catwalk model, tall and reed-slim, with platinum-blonde hair and breasts that would have made sleeping on her stomach uncomfortable if not impossible. But then he had probably moved on to someone else by now. He was known for changing his girlfriends like some people changed their shirts.

It was a lifestyle Sabrina could not relate to at all. The three things she longed for most in life were love, stability and commitment, and she knew she would be nothing but a gullible fool if she thought for even a moment that someone like Mario Marcolini could give them to her. He might be as handsome as sin and as tempting as the devil, but he was way out of her league, and always would be. Her gauche attempt to get him to notice her at Molly’s christening had more than confirmed that.

She opened the study door and, moving across to where the pram was, gently tucked Molly under the pink-bunny rug before turning to face Mario. Yet again she had to fight the urge not to stare at him. He was so impossibly good-looking it was heart-stopping even to glance at him. At six-feet-four, he towered over her five-feet-seven, and with that ink-black, glossy hair and those equally dark, glinting eyes he made her feel mousy and grey in comparison.

He closed the study door with a click that immediately dulled the sound of the chatter and clatter of the wake going on without them. It was like a volume switch suddenly being turned down; it made the silence of the study all the more intimidating, the closer confines of the room making her all too aware of the fact that he only had to take a stride or two to reach out and touch her.

His eyes met hers, holding them as if he had some sort of secret, magnetic power over her; she couldn’t look away if she tried. ‘We have a problem to solve and it needs to be solved quickly,’ he said.

Sabrina paused for a moment to moisten her lips with the tip of her tongue. She had been preparing herself for this, but even so, now that it came to the crunch, she felt devastated. She knew what he was going to do. He was going to take Molly back to Italy with him and there would be nothing she could do to stop him. She would never see her little goddaughter again if the very rich, very powerful and very ruthless Mario Marcolini had anything to do with it.

‘You have been informed that we have been appointed joint guardians of Molly, correct?’ he said, still watching her with that brooding, hawk-like gaze.

Sabrina nodded, her throat moving up and down over a knot of despair. She had been informed a couple of days ago of the terms of the guardianship Laura and Ric had nominated in their wills. She had also been told it was going to be challenged by Laura’s stepmother, who believed she and her new husband could offer Molly the more stable and secure future.

The lawyer had been up front about Sabrina’s chances of keeping Molly in her care, and it didn’t look good. The court would decide on the basis of the best interests of the child: for instance who had the most to offer in terms of security, of the child’s welfare and future provision. Sabrina was not only single, but currently out of work, while Ingrid Knowles and her husband, Stanley, although on the wrong side of fifty, were more than well off and had made no secret of their wish for a child.

‘Y-yes,’ she said, running her tongue across her chalk-dry lips again. ‘I am well aware of Laura and Ric’s wishes, but the legal advice I have been given is I stand very little chance of fulfilling them due to, er, my current circumstances.’

He gave her an inscrutable look. ‘Your current circumstances being that you are single, unemployed and lately labelled a home-wrecker, correct?’

As much as it galled Sabrina to agree with him, what choice did she have otherwise? The press had made her out to be a bed-hopping babysitter with her eyes on the main chance. She had wanted to defend herself, but knew she could not do so without upsetting the Roebourne children by exposing their father for the perfidious and lecherous creep he was.

‘Pretty much,’ she said with a grim set to her mouth. ‘Laura would be heartbroken to think her stepmother will get custody of Molly. She hated Ingrid with a passion. She told me so only a few days before…’ she gulped back her emotion ‘…before the accident.’

Mario began to slowly pace the room back and forth, like a caged lion meticulously planning an escape. Sabrina stood with her arms crossed over her chest like a shield. She kept her breathing as shallow and steady as she could, but even so she felt her nostrils flare as the exotic spices of his aftershave insinuated their way into her system, making her feel intoxicated, as if she had breathed in a powerful, aromatic drug.

‘I will not allow that woman and her husband to have full custody of Ric’s child,’ Mario said, turning to face her, his dark eyes diamond-hard with determination. ‘I will do everything, and I mean everything, in my power to prevent it.’

Sabrina felt her heart sink at his adamant statement. This was it. This was the part where he would state his intention of taking Molly back with him to Italy. Her stomach churned with anguish; how could she let this happen? Surely there was something she could do? She had grown up without her mother, without someone who loved her and understood her. How could she let the very same thing happen to little Molly?

‘I have a temporary solution,’ Mario said.

‘Y-you have?’ Sabrina’s voice was barely audible.

‘We are Molly’s godparents, and legally appointed guardians. These are both responsibilities I intend to take very seriously.’

‘I understand that but, as you say, we are both responsible for her, and I too take those responsibilities equally seriously,’ she said, wishing she had sounded more determined and less intimidated. Wishing she felt less intimidated.

His eyes held hers for a tense moment. ‘Then we shall have to share those responsibilities in the best way we can.’

‘What are you suggesting?’ Sabrina asked, conscious of a frown tugging at her forehead. ‘I live in Australia, you live in Italy. It’s not as if we can share custody of an infant, or at least not in what the courts will acknowledge is an acceptable way with Molly’s best interests at heart. She can’t be shifted back and forth between countries. She’s just a baby, for God’s sake. I’m not sure what it’s like in your country, but here the courts are big on what is best for the child.’

His jaw was set in an intractable line, his black-brown gaze still drilling into hers. ‘Ric was my best friend,’ he said. ‘I will not stand by and let his daughter be brought up by a couple who in my opinion are not worthy of the custody of an animal, let alone a small infant.’

‘All the same, I think it’s going to be almost impossible to present a case against Ingrid and Stanley over Molly’s custody,’ she said, tearing her gaze away from his mouth with an effort. ‘I don’t know what else I can do. I have looked at this from every angle, and I can’t help thinking the odds are against Laura’s and Ric’s wishes ever being granted.’

There was another silence, weighted with something Sabrina couldn’t quite identify. She felt the tension in the air, the humidity of the atmosphere, the pressure of the unknown, the calm before the tumultuous, uncontrollable storm that was stealthily approaching.

‘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 too 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.’

‘Do you really think I would just walk away from Molly as if she meant nothing to me?’ she asked, still frowning furiously. ‘And what about what Molly wants? She will have come to look upon me as her mother. She’s practically doing it now. What you are suggesting is not just outrageous, it’s cruel to both Molly and to me.’

He lifted his dark brows at her vehemence. ‘Come now, Sabrina,’ he said coolly. ‘You have looked after young children before, becoming involved with every aspect of their lives, only to leave when the family no longer requires your services.’

‘That’s not the same thing at all,’ Sabrina argued.

‘Are you saying you did not have any affection for the children you were employed to look after?’ he asked.

Sabrina could feel her hatred of him simmering in her veins. It was pulsing through the intricate, narrow network in her body, threatening to burst out at any moment. She knew what he was doing; he was going to sideline her right from the start. She would be more than useful to him during the next two or three years while Molly was a baby and toddler, but after that she would be dismissed, just like any other servant in his employ.

‘Of course I develop great affection for the children in my care, but Molly is my godchild, the daughter of my best friend. It’s an entirely different relationship, especially given the circumstances now.’

‘Your marriage to me will not be permanent,’ he said. ‘As long as you understand that, there will not be a problem if you wish to continue to see Molly once our marriage is brought to an end.’

Sabrina stood and lifted the baby against her chest to wind her, gently patting the tiny back, her eyes still tussling with his. ‘You think you’ve got this all worked out, haven’t you? I know what you are doing, Mario. You want a cheap babysitter while you continue to live your playboy lifestyle.’

He gave her a smile, his eyes reflecting its mockery. ‘Cheap, Sabrina?’ he said. ‘Is that how you would describe yourself? Certainly the press called you such, and a whole lot more, if I recall.’

She gave him a flinty glare. ‘I am not going to be dismissed from Molly’s life at your say-so. I want to remain a part of her life no matter what happens between us.’

‘Nothing is going to happen between us, Sabrina,’ he said. ‘Or have you got other ideas, hmm? A little affair with me to pass the time, just like you did with Mr Roebourne, sì?’

This time her look was withering. ‘I have met some creeps in my time, and up until now Howard Roebourne was at the top of that list. But you, Mario Marcolini, have just bumped him off.’

His smile was still mocking as he came up close and stroked a long finger down the baby’s cheek. Sabrina sucked in a breath; he was so close she could see the sandpapery stubble on his jaw, and the unfathomable black holes of his pupils in the deep, dark chocolate of his eyes. The air around her face carried a trace of his scent, a mixture of aftershave and male pheromones, making her heart give a funny, out-of-time beat.

She quickly lowered her eyes and encountered the flat plane of his chest and stomach; she could almost imagine the six pack of ridged muscle lying beneath his designer shirt. She daren’t look any lower; she had spent too many nights as it was thinking about how he was made. The hardened length of him in full arousal as he had taken control of her amateur kiss at Molly’s christening had made the blood race frantically in her veins both then and since.

She felt his finger beneath her chin as he lifted her face upwards. ‘Is that how you did it?’ he asked with a curl of his lip and a hard glint in his eyes. ‘Is that how you lured a respectable married man away from his wife, by looking at him with those smoky, grey come-to-bed eyes of yours?’

Sabrina would have pulled away from his touch but she didn’t want to disturb Molly, who had drifted off to sleep against her shoulder. ‘I did not seduce him, or anyone,’ she said, glaring back at him.

His finger moved from beneath her chin and came to her mouth, tracing a pathway over the fullness of her bottom lip, barely touching, making every sensitive nerve begin to leap and dance beneath the skin. ‘Ah, but that is not quite true, is it, Sabrina?’ he said in a low spine-loosening murmur. ‘It is not hard to see why so many men would find it hard to resist a taste of its sweetness. I have not forgotten how tempting it was to taste it myself when you so very kindly offered it to me.’

Sabrina stood very still, barely able to breathe in case she betrayed herself. She wanted to taste his finger, to draw it into her mouth, to suck on it, to see if his pupils would flare with desire the way she suspected hers were currently flaring. Her gaze flicked to his mouth, the sensual contours of it pulling on the secret strings of desire deep and low in her belly. It was like torture to stand so close and not touch him. She had blamed the champagne the day of the christening, but she was stone-cold sober now, and still she wanted his mouth to set hers alight. What was wrong with her? Was she somehow turning into the raunchy Jezebel the press had made her out to be?

His hand dropped from her face. ‘I need to get going,’ he said, glancing at his watch. ‘I will come by your apartment this evening with some papers for you to sign.’

Sabrina could feel the walls of her prison starting to close in on her. When Mario Marcolini wanted something done, he was like a freight train going at full speed. This was the time to say, no, I won’t be a part of this. Why then wasn’t she saying it? The words were on the tip of her tongue, hovering there, but somehow she couldn’t utter them out loud. Saying no to Mario would be saying no to Molly; she was sure of it.

He had already demonstrated how ruthless he could be in his dealings with Laura’s stepmother earlier. What was to stop him doing the same to her? If she refused to marry him he was quite likely to use her sullied reputation against her. He would apply for full custody of Molly, and with his wealth and status there wouldn’t be a judge in the country who wouldn’t give it to him. With his pedigree and fortune he had so much to offer a little orphaned child. And Sabrina knew full well if he didn’t marry her to secure his claim he would simply marry someone else, and then she would never see Molly again. She was lucky he had offered her a compromise, although why he had done so was anyone’s guess. Stripped down, it was nothing more than blackmail, and yet she had no choice but to agree to the terms. What else could she do? Other women before her had made sacrifices for those they loved. She would do the same.

Sabrina bit her lip as she gently tucked Molly back into the pram. If Mario thought she would be shunted aside some time in the future, he had better rethink his plans. She wasn’t going to desert little Molly, no matter what the cost to her personally.

Mario escorted Sabrina out past the other mourners, one or two of them stopping to look in on the sleeping baby, murmuring their condolences; others, like Ingrid and Stanley Knowles, carried on with their drinking and chatting as if they were at a garden party.

Once Molly was safely strapped into the baby carrier in her car, Sabrina turned to look at Mario. ‘Do you have my address?’ she asked.

‘I looked it up in the phone book,’ he said. ‘I will be round about eight or so.’

Sabrina’s gaze flicked back to the house, her brow pleating with worry. ‘What if Ingrid comes round before then?’ she asked, swinging her gaze back to Mario. ‘She’s come round each day since Social Services released Molly into my care. The last time she was quite abusive. It was embarrassing for me, not to mention for the neighbours, most of whom are elderly. I was sure someone was going to call the police. I considered doing it myself, except I didn’t want the press to get wind of it.’

He drummed his fingers on the roof of her rusty car for a moment. ‘Then it will be best if you and Molly are not there if she should take it upon herself to drop round.’

Sabrina felt another frown pull at her brow. ‘But where will we be?’

‘You will be at my hotel with me,’ he said.

‘I-is that such a good idea?’ she said, her frown deepening, her heart stuttering in panic. ‘I mean…will there be room for us?’

The look in his eyes was inscrutable, but there was a hint of amusement lurking around his mouth. ‘Molly can sleep in her pram, and you can sleep in my bed.’

Sabrina’s eyes widened, her heart giving that annoying little extra beat again. ‘Are you by any chance going to be there too?’ she asked with an attempt at an arch look.

‘In my bed, do you mean?’

She nodded, hastily disguising a nervous swallow.

‘Only if I am invited,’ he said with a sexy slant of his mouth.

Sabrina pulled her own mouth into a prim line. ‘That is not going to happen.’

‘No, of course not,’ he said as his smile turned to a sneer. ‘You have a taste for the forbidden, do you not? The married man is more your style.’

‘I can assure you that all of your married friends will be quite safe from me,’ she said with a lift of her chin.

He took her chin between his finger and thumb, his eyes boring into hers. ‘I perhaps should remind you at this point of the behaviour I expect from you during the period of our marriage,’ he said.

Sabrina considered pulling out of his hold, but, though it was firm enough to make her think twice, it was somehow gentle enough for her not to even want to try. She felt the slow but steady burn of his touch, the heat of him going to her core where a cauldron of need was still on the boil from the last time he had come this close. She ran the tip of her tongue over her lips, her stomach giving a little kick of awareness when he brushed the pad of his thumb over where her tongue had just been. It was like negative meeting positive, fire meeting fuel, flame meeting tinder. She felt her whole body respond; her breasts peaked, her inner thighs trembled and her heart didn’t just pick up its pace, it all-out sprinted. ‘I—I’m not sure what you expect me to do,’ she said, trying to steady her out-of-control breathing. ‘It’s not as if we are, er, in love or anything—and for that matter I am not prepared to pretend we are.’

His eyes continued to hold hers. ‘I am glad you mentioned that particular four-letter word,’ he said. ‘You are more than welcome in my bed, but do not get any ideas about making this arrangement more permanent. I know how a woman’s mind works, so any vows of love from you will be disregarded henceforth.’

Sabrina was taken aback by his words. She bristled at his arrogant assumption that she would fall in love with him so readily or, even more insulting, pretend to do so for personal gain. It just went to show the sort of women he sought to warm his bed. He wanted shallow and short term, not deep, caring and committed. ‘I could never love someone like you,’ she threw back. ‘You are the very opposite of what I want in a partner.’

He smiled that mocking smile again. ‘Is that so?’

She pulled her shoulders back, her eyes flashing their dislike of him. ‘You are selfish, for one thing,’ she said. ‘And ruthless, and…and…’ She hunted for some other words to describe him, but it totally confounded her that all she could think of was how good he was with Molly. For a playboy he certainly was astonishingly at ease around a tiny baby. He handled Molly with care and confidence. He had been the same at the christening, kissing her tiny nose and each of her miniscule fingertips one by one, his normally cynical and hard, black-brown eyes all but melting.

‘But I am rich,’ he said, still smiling. ‘That surely makes up for what else I lack, sì?”

‘You do not have enough money to tempt me,’ Sabrina said with a toss of her head.

‘We will see,’ he said, and opened the passenger door.

She frowned at him again. ‘What are you doing?’

‘I am holding the door open for you.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘Yes, I can see that, but why? I can’t drive it from this side, in case you haven’t noticed.’

‘I will drive,’ he said. ‘You can tell me where to go.’

‘That will be the easy part,’ she said with a pert look. ‘Go to hell.’

His dark eyes glinted with amusement. ‘Not unless I get to take you with me,’ he said. ‘I have a feeling we could really ramp up the heat down there with just a kiss or two, let alone the full works.’

Sabrina pressed her lips into a flat line of disdain. ‘You don’t get to sample the goods, Mario, they’re not on offer.’ Not any more, she mentally tacked on, not entirely sure if it was a promise or a prayer for help in resisting temptation.

‘I know what you are doing, Sabrina,’ he said. ‘You have been doing it from the first moment we met. You like to slowly reel a man in, do you not? That is your modus operandi, no? Little by little you up the ante until he finally capitulates.’

She took a step backwards. ‘I am doing no such thing.’

He leaned closer, capturing her chin again, his eyes locking on hers. ‘I will take your slim little body any time you like,’ he said in a low, spine-tingling drawl. ‘Any time, any place, any position. You just have to say the word. Just like the last time.’

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.

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