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in a suite far from the one Maria had prepared for herself and Nicki.

      The master suite rose vividly in her mind. Positioned at the far end of the family wing, it comprised a large bedroom, two en suites, two walk-in wardrobes and an adjoining room containing comfortable deep-seated chairs, a sofa, reading lamps.

      Had he had the suite redecorated?

      ‘No.’

      Shannay heard his soft drawl and refused to look at him, hating that he still retained the ability to read her mind.

      He paused at an open door. ‘I think you’ll be comfortable here.’

      Here was two bedrooms separated by an en suite, with one of the bedrooms decorated especially for a young girl. Different shades of pink, from the palest shade to watermelon. Prints hung on the walls, toys in abundance, and the bed was fit for a princess.

      Nicki’s room.

      Shannay got it.

      A room that was Nicki’s alone, for whenever she visited. A suite she would become familiar with, feel comfortable in and look forward to occupying.

      Not too far in distance from where Marcello slept while she was young, so she would feel secure, knowing he was within calling distance.

      There was a part of her that hated him for deliberately setting the scene for Nicki’s future.

      Yet there was also a feeling of gratitude that she didn’t want to acknowledge. Together with a mounting anxiety that played havoc with her emotions.

      ‘Is this where I’ll sleep?’

      Nicki’s voice held a degree of wondrous awe.

      ‘Yes.’ Marcello moved towards the en suite, opened the connecting door and crossed to the opposite door which led into an adjoining bedroom. ‘Your mother will sleep here.’

      ‘Can the doors stay open?’ Nicki queried tentatively, and he offered a reassuring smile.

      ‘Of course.’

      Nicki caught hold of her mother’s hand. ‘Aren’t we lucky?’ she said simply, to which Shannay could only answer in the affirmative.

      ‘Marcello is kind to let us stay here.’

      She could think of numerous descriptive adjectives … not one of them remotely resembled kind, given he had his own agenda.

      Their luggage stood at the end of the bed, and Marcello indicated both suitcases. ‘Maria will unpack for you. Freshen up, then come downstairs.’

      He gave Nicki a warm smile, extended it towards Shannay, then he turned and left the room.

      Unpacking would take only a matter of minutes, and Shannay tended to her own, then she transferred Nicki’s clothes into the connecting bedroom.

      A short while later she accompanied Nicki downstairs to the informal lounge, where Maria served tea, delicate sandwiches and a bowl of freshly cut fruit.

      Dinner would be served late … way past Nicki’s usual bedtime, and Shannay decided sandwiches and a glass of milk would suffice as an evening meal on this occasion.

      Marcello’s presence was unexpected. For some reason she had imagined he’d disappear into his home office and remain there until dinner. A meal she intended to skip on the pretext of bathing Nicki and settling her to sleep.

      The flight had been long, his company a constant, and she desperately needed a break from him.

      Nicki ate little, drank her milk and began to visibly droop.

      ‘If you’ll excuse us?’ Shannay took hold of her daughter’s hand. ‘Say goodnight, darling.’

      Nicki politely obliged, and Marcello surprised them both by lifting the young child into his arms.

      ‘I can take her.’ She reached out, expecting Nicki to lean towards her … except her daughter remained where she was.

      She told herself she wasn’t hurt. Silently assured herself it didn’t matter. But it did.

      Nicki’s head had tucked in against the curve of his throat as they reached the bedroom, and he gently lowered her down onto the bed.

      ‘Thanks.’ It was a polite, perfunctory gesture that didn’t fool him in the slightest.

      His eyes seared her own. ‘I’ll see you at dinner.’

      ‘I’d prefer to remain close to Nicki in case she wakes.’

      He regarded her steadily. ‘There’s a monitor in her room, and auditory receptive devices in every room in the house.’ His gaze didn’t waver. ‘Dinner will be served in two hours. Plenty of time for you to bathe and settle her to sleep before you join me.’

      Shannay longed to tell him to go jump. She was on edge, angry, and feeling the effects of jet lag. The thought of sharing a meal with him held no appeal whatsoever.

      Yet it would provide the opportunity to vent … and she so badly needed to vent!

      He leant down and brushed his lips to Nicki’s temple.

      ‘Sleep well, pequena.’ He straightened, sent Shannay a piercing look, then he turned and left the room.

      She had the childish desire to pull a face behind his back, except she restrained herself and tended to her daughter.

      Two hours and five minutes later she descended the stairs and made her way towards the informal dining room.

      Five minutes over time was acceptable, and in her case deliberate, for she refused to conform to every one of Marcello’s dictates.

      She’d chosen to wear a black singlet top over which she wore a fine lace black blouse tied at her waist, pencil-slim black skirt, black stilettos, hair pulled back into a French twist secured by a jewelled comb, a slim gold bracelet, understated make-up and lipgloss.

      Dressed to kill was an adequate description.

      Ready for battle was more apt!

      Marcello was waiting for her as she entered the dining room, and one look at him was enough to set the pulse at her throat thrum to a faster beat.

      Attired in black tailored trousers, a white chambray shirt, his casual appearance belied the almost barbaric handsomeness of the man.

      Strength and power, a degree of ruthlessness made for a dangerous mix she had every reason to view with caution.

      Yet there was so much banked-up resentment and anger towards him, it took leashed control to avoid launching into attack mode.

      Play nice … for now, she reminded herself silently.

      Appear to enjoy a few sips of excellent vintage wine, be polite through the starter, aim for neutrality as they sampled the main course, then open the verbal discourse over coffee.

      That was the plan.

      ‘Shannay.’ His voice was a lazy, faintly accented drawl, and she unconsciously lifted her chin.

      ‘Marcello.’

      ‘Can I get you something to drink?’

      Civility. She could do that. ‘A light medium white, thank you.’

      He crossed to a storage cabinet, extracted the appropriate bottle, opened it, poured a quantity into a crystal goblet and extended it towards her.

      ‘Nicki settled well?’

      She was careful to avoid his fingers as she took the goblet from his hand. ‘Yes. Thank you.’

      ‘So polite, Shannay?’

      Her eyes sparked shards of golden fire. ‘I thought we’d feign peace and leave war until after dinner.’ Her chin lifted a little. ‘I have respect for my digestion.’

      His soft laughter

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