Sweet Revenge: The Martinez Marriage Revenge / The Italian Billionaire's Ruthless Revenge / The Kouros Marriage Revenge

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 was almost her undoing as he indicated the table set with fine china, silver flatware and no less than three crystal goblets. ‘Let’s eat, shall we?’

Maria had surpassed herself with a delicate starter, followed by a seafood paella steaming aromatically beneath a covered serving dish.

‘Ramon is anxious to meet Nicki,’ Marcello informed as he touched the rim of his goblet to her own in a silent salute. ‘How do you feel about tomorrow?’

‘Perhaps it could be delayed by a day?’ Shannay countered. ‘Nicki has had to absorb a lot in the past week, followed by a long flight.’ She made a sweeping gesture with her hand to indicate his home. ‘All of this.’

‘I’ll make arrangements.’

It was happening, the increase in Marcello’s control to the detriment of her own.

Ramon she could cope with … even look forward to reconnecting with the generous elderly man.

Ramon’s daughter, Penè, however, was a different matter.

Ramon’s son, Marcello and Sandro’s father, had been killed instantly in a car crash when Marcello had been in his late teens.

Nicki was the bonus … the one bright star in the Martinez firmament. No one, not even Penè, would be permitted to say a word out of place in Nicki’s hearing.

Shannay sampled the starter, and insisted on a small portion of paella. She’d grown unused to eating so late, and she merely sipped her wine, choosing instead to drink chilled water, and declined dessert or coffee.

‘Finish your wine.’

She met his faintly hooded gaze with equanimity. ‘I prefer to have a clear head.’

Marcello sank back in his chair and regarded her with interest. ‘To indulge in verbal warfare?’