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

‘I’m not moving into your room.’

Marcello slanted an eyebrow. ‘You’d prefer me to move into yours?’

Shannay wasn’t deceived by his even tone. ‘No.’

‘Then we have a problem.’

‘No, we don’t.’

‘You intend to slink in here in the dead of night and leave at dawn?’

She tilted her chin and sent him a steady look. ‘Last night was—’

‘An aberration? A mistake?’ The dangerous silkiness in his voice took hold of her nerve-ends and tugged a little.

‘We each became carried away and indulged ourselves with sex?’

A sudden lump rose in her throat, and she attempted to swallow it in order to speak. ‘Yes.’

‘Justify the night however you choose. It doesn’t change where you’ll sleep.’

He watched the colour leave her cheeks, and hardened his heart. ‘The bed’s large, and sex,’ he gave the word a faint emphasis, ‘won’t be on the menu unless you choose for it to be.’

Share the same bed, lie within touching distance … ‘You have to be joking!’

‘No.’ He turned and moved towards his walk-in wardrobe. ‘I’m going to dress for dinner.’ He paused fractionally.

‘Transfer everything to your room, if that’s what you want. But if you go to bed there, you’ll wake up in mine.’

Shannay merely glared at him and marched into the en suite, where she stripped off her clothes and took a long, hot shower in the hope it might help diminish her anger.

OK, so it was war, she declared silently as she dried off with a towel, then she wound it sarong-style around her body, secured it above her breasts and re-entered the bedroom.

Marcello caught the heat of battle apparent, and veiled his eyes against a faint gleam of humour as he rolled back his shirt-cuffs, then slid his feet into comfortable leather loafers.

‘Did anyone tell you you’re impossible?’

He had the satisfaction of offering—’Touché.’

She bore the look of someone much younger than her years with unbrushed hair and features free of make-up.

He restrained the desire to cross the room, dispense with the towel and kiss her senseless.

The fact he could provided a degree of satisfaction.

‘Maria has dinner waiting.’

Shannay almost told him precisely what he could do with dinner, except she didn’t trust herself to speak. Instead she extracted fresh underwear from a drawer, caught up a dress, then disappeared into the en suite again.

In an act of defiance she took longer than necessary, and emerged to discover he was conversing in French on his cellphone.

She selected a pair of heeled sandals and secured the straps.

‘Problems?’ she queried sweetly as he closed the connection.

‘Nothing I can’t handle.’

‘How … eminently satisfying to be the epitome of professionalism.’

He almost laughed, for she was unlike any woman he knew. ‘Shall we adjourn downstairs?’

‘Oh, by all means, let’s adjourn.’

Sassy, definitely sassy. He wondered if she’d be quite so brave when they returned upstairs to retire for the night.

Maria had excelled herself, providing a rice pilaf to die for, a fresh salad, with a fruit flan for dessert.

‘I’d like to take Nicki into the city tomorrow afternoon,’ Shannay declared as she poured coffee, and made tea for herself.

‘A shop-till-you-drop mission?’

She shook her head. ‘Some small gifts to take home for a few of her friends. Something special for Anna.’

‘On the condition both Carlo and I accompany you.’

‘We could take the metro.’

‘No.’

‘A limousine and a bodyguard?’ she queried with intentional mockery, and met his studied gaze.

‘A necessary precaution.’

The Martinez billions were tied up in numerous corporations throughout the world. It was a given Marcello’s personal fortune had escalated dramatically over the past four years.

So many assets. Yet only a few knew the extent of the Martinez benevolence to various charities, the hospitals they’d funded in third world countries.

It made the family a target. At risk from the insurgents who hated wealth and all it represented. The beautiful people who appeared to have everything while the less fortunate lived in tenements and fought for food.

During the two years of her marriage she’d given tirelessly of her time to help Penè organise events for charity, frequently suffering the older woman’s acerbic tongue and endless criticism as they worked together.

Possibly Ramon’s daughter saw it as a necessity to figuratively strengthen the spine of her nephew’s wife, and her manner had achieved that, not without some resentment and restrained anger on Shannay’s part at the time.

‘If you insist,’ Shannay conceded, aware that to argue with him over the protection issue was a waste of time. ‘On the condition you allow me to judge what purchases are bought. I won’t have Nicki acquire an inflated sense of her own importance and become a spoilt little madam.’

Marcello inclined his head. ‘We’ll drive into the city after visiting with Ramon.’

‘Thank you.’