LITMIR.BIZ

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a smooth twist.

      ‘You look like a princess.’

      Shannay turned towards Nicki and blew her a kiss. ‘Thank you.’

      ‘Gracias,’ her daughter corrected with a grin. ‘Me and Maria are going to watch Shrek.’

      ‘Just for a little while. When Maria says it’s time for bed, you won’t fuss. OK?’

      ‘‘Kay.’

      Time to go downstairs, join Marcello, then step into a Martinez chauffeured limousine … secure in the knowledge Nicki would be well looked after in Maria’s care, with Carlo in charge, and a direct private line on speed-dial to both her and Marcello’s cellphone.

      Shannay collected the matching evening bag, then held out her hand. ‘Come on, imp. Party-time.’

      A faint knock on Nicki’s bedroom door accompanied by the sound of a familiar male voice had the little girl racing through the connecting en suite.

      ‘Daddy’s here!’

      Large as life and far too stunningly attractive in dark evening wear, Shannay perceived as she attempted without success to still the warmth flooding through her veins at the mere sight of him.

      Fine white shirt linen provided a stark contrast with his olive skin and dark, well-groomed hair, his tailored suit displaying an impeccable fit as it moulded his superbly muscled frame.

      It was little wonder women of all ages felt emboldened to flex their flirting skills in his presence, for he possessed a raw sexuality combined with the hint of something forbidden, almost verging on the savagely primitive.

      A modern-day warrior who fought daily with powerful brokers in numerous countries around the world, constantly seeking an essential edge … and always watching his back.

      Dark inscrutable eyes took in her slim form, the child regarding him with dancing anticipation, and he leant down and scooped Nicki into his arms.

      ‘Isn’t Mummy beautiful?’ his daughter confided, and his mouth curved into a generous smile.

      ‘Beautiful,’ Marcello agreed. ‘Just like you.’

      A compliment that earned him an enthusiastic kiss to his cheek.

      Ten minutes later Shannay sat in the rear seat of the limousine as it cleared the gates and traversed the avenue leading towards the main arterial route into the city.

      ‘There’s something missing,’ Marcello drawled and reached into his jacket pocket, extracted a small velvet case and snapped it open.

      ‘Give me your hand.’

      He sensed her hesitation and simply caught hold of her left hand, and slid the exquisite baguette-style diamond ring onto the appropriate finger.

      Her wedding ring. The one she’d left behind the night she’d fled his home, his country.

      ‘I don’t—’

      ‘Want to wear it?’ His dark eyes met hers and held them. ‘But you will.’

       ‘Why?’

      ‘I would have thought it obvious.’

      ‘The orchestrated reconciliation,’ she acknowledged drily, and saw his cynical smile.

      ‘Need I remind you the marriage remains intact?’

      ‘For the time being.’ She’d play the game for the duration of her stay, for Ramon’s sake. An extra week or two was little to gift him from her lifetime.

      The wide platinum diamond-encrusted band shot prisms of brilliantly coloured fire as the light caught the numerous facets, and its unaccustomed weight felt strange.

      ‘There’s also these.’

      He revealed a pear-shaped diamond pendant and matching earrings he’d gifted her on their first wedding anniversary.

      Without a word he leant towards her and attached the delicate platinum chain in place and fastened the clasp at her nape.

      It took only seconds, but it felt like an age as his warm breath feathered her cheek, and the touch of his fingers at her nape wrought an intimacy in the close confines of the limousine.

      How easy would it be to move her head a little and have her cheek brush his own? To turn into him and seek his mouth, feel the sensuous slide of his tongue in an erotic tasting that could never be enough … merely a tantalising preliminary to how the evening would end. As it had in the early days of their marriage.

      A time when she had dared and teased, and exulted in every moment.

      Now she sat still, waiting with indrawn breath for him to move away so her heartbeat could return to its normal rhythm.

      She made a slightly strangled protest as he lifted his fingers to her ear and carefully attached the hooked pin of one ear-stud before tending to her other earlobe.

      Shannay couldn’t fault his touch, or accuse it lingered a little too long. But the action felt incredibly personal, intimate … and she had to fight against the way it affected her wayward emotions.

      As he meant it to do?

      And if so, to what purpose?

      Physically, Marcello could do nothing to prevent her leaving the country.

      So why this persistent niggle of doubt?

      The hotel was one of the city’s finest, and Shannay cursed Marcello afresh as she pinned a smile on her face and prepared to play an expected part.

      Numerous photographers’ cameras flashed as they alighted from the limousine and trod the red carpet into the foyer.

      Marcello’s hand was warm as it rested at the back of her waist, and the bodyguard who’d ridden up front in the limousine now flanked her as they moved towards the gracious staircase leading to the mezzanine level.

      A well-remembered scene, Shannay perceived, with the beautiful people who mostly came to be seen. Women who chose to showcase designer gowns and expensive jewellery, gifted by husbands and lovers who presided as captains of industry.

      Socialites, fashionistas, models … she caught a glimpse of a few familiar faces, smiled and kept her head high.

      Waiters and waitresses dutifully presented trays of drinks, from which Marcello selected two flutes of champagne and placed one in her hand.

      Alcohol on an empty stomach wasn’t such a good idea, and she merely took a sip of the chilled bubbly liquid, then regarded the flute as a prop.

      ‘Marcello!’

      ‘Miguel and Shantal Rodriguez,’ Marcello intoned quietly as a man and woman greeted them, followed by voluble Spanish … which Marcello immediately explained was not his wife’s first language.

      Shannay was supremely conscious of him at her side, the occasional touch of his hand at the edge of her waist, his attentive manner, and suppressed the wayward desire it was real, instead of the expected portrayal of a husband with his wife.

      It was a relief when the large ballroom doors opened and guests were instructed to begin making their way to reserved seats at designated tables.

      There was one face in the crowd Shannay subconsciously searched for, and failed to notice.

      Estella de Cordova.

      A woman whose presence at the evening’s prestigious event would be obligatory.

      Then there she was, tall, impossibly elegant in Versace only someone with a superb figure and an overdose of panache could wear.

      Dark, thick, curling hair framed her perfect features, and an abundance of diamonds sparkled with every move she made.

      The centre of attention as always, and actively seeking to make an impression.

      Shannay’s

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