TWO DAYS LATER Ramon slipped into a coma, from which he never recovered, and his funeral was a private family occasion, followed by a memorial service attended by close friends, family and captains of industry.
It was an infinitely sad time for them all, especially Penè who went into a decline and cancelled everything on her social calendar for an unspecified time.
Ramon’s will distributed his considerable personal fortune equally between Penè, Marcello, Sandro … and Nicki.
Marcello and Shannay were named as Nicki’s trustees, and the inheritance made their daughter a very rich little girl.
Marcello’s presence was required in the city on frequent occasions during the ensuing week. Days when he left early and returned late, sometimes long after Nicki had fallen asleep.
To compensate he rang and spoke to his daughter through the day and again before she went to bed.
Shannay filled the days as best she could, supervising Nicki with her swimming, reading, finger-painting and constructing models with play-dough.
She also offered to assist Penè in any way possible, without success.
‘Leave her grieve,’ Marcello advised when she broached it one evening after he arrived home late. ‘She needs to come to terms with Ramon’s death in her own time, in her own way.’
She looked at him carefully, noting the lines fanning out from the corners of his eyes seemed more pronounced, the grooves slashing his cheeks a little deeper.
‘And you, Marcello?’
‘Concerned for me, querida?’
‘Perhaps. A little.’
He discarded his suit jacket, loosened his tie, toed off his shoes, then he reached for her, pulling her close to kiss her deeply, taking his time before he lifted his mouth from her own.
‘Come share my shower.’
She tilted her head to one side and regarded him thoughtfully. ‘That could be dangerous.’
His eyes gleamed and he gave a husky chuckle. ‘So take the risk and live a little.’
‘In the shower?’
His fingers slid to the hem of her singlet top and pulled it free from the waistband of her jeans, stripped her of it in one easy movement, then he undid the clip on her bra.
‘Since when has that presented a problem?’
He reached for the snap on her jeans, slid the zip down and eased the denim over her hips.
It felt so good to have his hands shape her slender form, to drift his fingers over the highly sensitive curve at the base of her neck, the touch of his lips to her nape, the gentle tactile exploration that unfurled a capricious sexuality and became raw with hunger … for him, only him.
He branded her with his mouth, the edges of his teeth in a coupling that was explosive, primitive as he demanded her compliance and made her his own.
It said much as she lost herself in him and became greedy, meeting him with each thrust as she urged him almost to a point of savagery, and she held on, soaring with him to unbelievable heights in a sexual climax more pagan than any they’d previously shared.
Afterwards he simply rested his cheek against her temple as their breathing slowed, and the water cascaded over their bodies slick with sexual sweat.
He said something in Spanish beneath his breath, then trailed his mouth down to capture hers in a kiss so incredibly gentle, her eyes shimmered with emotive tears.
With care, he took the soap and smoothed it over her body, his eyes dark and impossibly slumberous as he caught the faint pink smudges marking her tender flesh.
When he was done, she took the soap from his hand and returned the favour, exulting in the hard musculature, olive skin darker than her own, and the inherent masculinity that was intensely male and his alone.
It took a while before they pulled on towelling robes and emerged into the bedroom.
Her cellphone beeped intermittently, alerting a text message, and a slight frown creased her forehead as she read the text.
‘Anything urgent?’ Marcello queried as he discarded the robe and slid naked between the bedcovers.
‘It’s John,’ she relayed slowly, meeting his gaze. ‘He wants to know when he can expect me back.’
His eyes darkened, and he went completely still. ‘You won’t be returning to Perth.’
Shannay opened her mouth, then closed it again. ‘Marcello, my job, my life, everything is there.’
‘It was never there from the moment I discovered Nicki’s existence.’
Oh, dear lord. ‘You don’t understand,’ she protested, feeling sick and slightly stricken as she took in his hardened features.
‘Make me understand,’ Marcello began in a dangerously silky tone. ‘How you can lose yourself in my arms night after night … and yet still want to leave.’
He had her there, and she felt suddenly bereft of words. Too ashamed to admit he held the power to render her wanton and solely his. To need him as a flower in the desert craved water in order to survive.
That without him, she simply existed.
‘You asked me to stay longer for Ramon’s sake, and I have.’
Say it, she begged silently. Say you care. Tell me I mean something to you.
‘Leaving isn’t an option.’ The reiteration held an adamant non-negotiation hardness that chilled her to the bone.
There was only one thing she could do, and she tightened the belt on her robe and moved to the door.
‘I’ll sleep in another room.’
It killed her to walk through the door and close it quietly behind her.
Stupid tears gathered and rolled slowly down each cheek as she traversed the gallery to the suite she’d occupied during the initial few days after her arrival.
For some reason she needed to check on Nicki, to see her sweet face in sleep, and try to quantify her wayward emotions.
The dim night-light revealed a child at peace, silently trusting, and so much a part of her just the thought brought an ache to her throat.
Nicki was happy here … and hadn’t that been the object of this excursion?
A visit, to help Nicki adjust to spending time with her father. Thinly disguised custody posing as holidays.
Preparation for what the future would involve.
Shannay had never in her wildest imagination expected the visit to be anything else.
Yet she hadn’t counted on being so acutely vulnerable to the father of her child. Or to remember so vividly what they’d shared.
She’d been a fool. Incredibly naive not to foresee maintaining a formal relationship couldn’t last long.
Had he knowingly plotted just this outcome? Planned to seduce her and force her to stay?
Even get her pregnant?
It was a long time before she fell into an uneasy sleep, and late next morning when she woke.
Nicki was happily ensconsed in the kitchen beneath Maria’s care, and relayed Marcello had left early for the city.
There was a need to do something constructive with the day, preferably away from the house.
Shopping held no appeal but, recalling how much Nicki had loved the children’s section of the Parque de Attracciones, Shannay thought it would be great to enjoy a return visit.
With Carlo in attendance, of course.
It was relatively easy to arrange, and they set off with a delighted little girl whose excitement became infectious as the day progressed.
The rides, the people, the other children and the carnival-like atmosphere helped diminish Shannay rehashing the fallout from John’s text message.
How could she remain in Madrid when there were unresolved issues?
Worse, how could she bear to stay in a marriage simply because of convenience? Even more disturbing … consider adding another child?
It wasn’t enough to pretend. To attempt to believe the marriage was alive and healthy simply because the sex was good.
Oh, tell it like it is, why don’t you? It’s fantastic … off the Richter scale.
She’d been there, suffered, and thrown in the towel.
Why put herself through it again?
Except you’re already in over your head.
Admit it.
Something … instinct, maternal or otherwise, alerted her attention.
Nicki. Where was Nicki?
Fear, panic, both meshed into something incredibly frightening as she consciously searched for the red top and cropped jeans Nicki was wearing, the bright red bow in her hair … felt her heart leap when she thought she caught a glimpse of red, only to have her hopes dashed seconds later.
Carlo? Where in hell was Carlo?
How could they both be missing?
‘Please, have you seen a little girl …’ She began frantically questioning one stranger after another, some of the children … in a mixture of English and Spanish as she described Nicki and her clothing … to which she received visual concern, the shake of a head, nothing.
Oh, dear God. She prayed, made deals with the deity, and in a moment of common sense extracted her cellphone and rang Marcello’s private number on speed dial.
He picked up on the second tone, listened to her garbled explanation and issued an icily calm directive.
‘Stay where you are. I’m on my way.’
He immediately excused himself from an important meeting, made a personal call to the chief of police, issued orders to various staff as he had his car brought kerb-side in front of the building’s main entrance, and he attempted to make contact with Carlo.
By the time he arrived at the parque, he’d gathered an overview of the situation … and Carlo’s cellphone had been switched off.
So too had the personal tracking device he carried at all times when leaving the house.
Two factors which sent alarm bells screaming inside Marcello’s head.
Nicki’s existence had been kept as low-profile as possible. Except it didn’t take a mathematician to work out the value of a child with direct connections to the Martinez dynasty. Factor in Ramon’s recent demise, and the value accelerated a thousandfold.
The abductors had to be professionals. Carlo was the best, and if they’d slipped beneath his alert surveillance it had to be a highly planned operation.
Shannay saw Marcello the instant he came into view, and she looked at him in silent desperation as he joined her.
There was little evident in his expression as he gathered her close, and one glance at her pale features was sufficient for him to reassure,
‘Don’t blame yourself.’
Then he began firing questions over the top of her head.
His presence did little to ease the panic pumping through her body. She was too stunned to cry, too inwardly frozen to do more than operate on some form of automatic pilot as police joined the parque’s security personnel.
The majority of their rapid Spanish went beyond her comprehension, and she stood at Marcello’s side, endeavouring to dismiss numerous images too horrifying to contemplate.
How could Marcello deal with the situation with such apparent calm?
Shannay searched his features, caught the clenched muscle at the edge of his jaw, heard the tightness in his voice … and exchanged calm for control.
There would be a phone call.
Wasn’t that how a kidnapping unfolded?
She was a total mess, mentally and emotionally, desperately wanting to rewind the clock, wishing she hadn’t taken her eye off Nicki for a second.
For that was all it had taken.
‘Carlo? Who are these men?’ Nicki’s small hand tightened within his own. ‘Where are they taking us?’
Carlo was wired, he’d already activated the panic button, but any minute soon they’d pat him down … and any existing contact would be lost.
The important thing was to protect his charge. To minimise the impact of the kidnapping and to remain alert for any eventuality.
‘Just a little ride, pequena,’ he assured gently. ‘It’s OK.’
His training served him well, and no one, especially the child whose trust in him at this moment was unconditional, guessed beneath his calm persona there was a concealed Glock aimed right at his kidney.
They reached a nondescript dark-coloured van, the rear doors opened and Carlo lifted Nicki and deposited her on the metal floor.
‘There aren’t any seats to sit on,’ Nicki whispered as he leaned in close.
He watched her eyes widen as he spread his arms and legs wide … hiding, he hoped, the fact he was being competently searched, his sports watch taken in case it contained an alert device.
A guttural oath sounded from behind as the taped wire was discovered, and he clenched his teeth as it was wrenched free. Then a hard metal object slammed into his kidneys, his hands were cuffed and he was pushed into the van, managing by reflex action to roll into an upright position without making a sound. Difficult when suffering excruciating pain.
‘I don’t like those men.’
Neither did he.
The doors slammed shut, he heard the lock catch, followed seconds later by the faint throb of the engine.
‘We’re going on an adventure,’ Carlo offered gently. ‘Shall I tell you a story?’
There was a tiny electronic device in his shoe. Virtually a panic button, which when activated provided a direct link to the police. As long as the device remained undetected, it would allow the police to track their whereabouts.
It wouldn’t be too difficult to extract, but he couldn’t risk Nicki asking what he was doing.
On the off-chance a listening device was planted inside the van, he lifted his cuffed hands to his face and pressed a finger to his lips.
Nicki copied his action and nodded.
Good. She’d remembered the few basic alerts he’d offered in explanation of why he always accompanied members of her family, instilling gently he would always win and she should never be frightened.
He began to intone a nursery rhyme as he quietly worked, controlling the slow slide as the van took a corner, the pause as it halted at a traffic intersection.
Their abductors were taking no chances, he perceived, for their speed was regulated, normal, and they were heading in a northerly direction.
There was a sense of satisfaction when he freed the electronic device, then once it was activated he replaced it carefully out of sight.
By now, Shannay would have alerted Marcello, notified the police … and it was only a matter of time.
He gave Nicki an indicative victory sign, and moved from one story to another. Heaven help him, he even sang a few songs, silently encouraging Nicki to join in … which, bless her brave little heart, she did.
It would take time to set up a roadblock, and his main objective was providing sufficient distraction to prevent Nicki from becoming too frightened.
Together they discussed her favourite stories, and Shrek the movie, Fiona, Puss in Boots and Donkey.
Once, she lifted hands and wiped tears from her cheek. ‘When will I see my mummy?’
‘Soon, pequena. Soon,’ he promised, and prayed he was right. ‘Your daddy will make sure of it.’
Every minute seemed like an hour, each one the worst and the longest in Shannay’s life.
Nothing else came close.
Then two things happened almost simultaneously.
Marcello’s cellphone rang … and seconds later he smiled.
Hope soared as she waited anxiously for him to relay news, and when he did it was all she could do not to subside in a heap.
Nicki was safe.
Carlo had her.
Their abductors had been forced to a halt at a police roadblock on the northern outskirts.
Nicki was in Carlo’s care, and their abductors were under arrest.
Reaction, immense relief … the emotional fall-out from a living nightmare began to have an effect, and tears welled up and spilled to run silently down each cheek.
Marcello took one look and cradled her face between his hands, easing the warm moisture with each thumb.
‘Nicki is fine. They’re on their way home in a police car. We’ll meet them there.’
She wasn’t capable of uttering so much as a word, and he lowered his head to hers and pressed his lips to each eyelid in turn.
A gesture which only increased the flow of tears, and his mouth closed over her own in a brief, evocative kiss before he lifted his head.
‘Let’s go home, hmm?’
Shannay was grateful for the arm he curved across the back of her waist as he led her to his car. Seated, he spared her a brief glance, glimpsed her still pale features and dark eyes fixed unseeing beyond the windscreen and he swore softly beneath his breath.
‘Let it go, querida,’ he advised gently, and she turned towards him with tear-drenched eyes.
‘How can I?’ Her mouth quivered with emotion. ‘What if Carlo—?’ She couldn’t say the words. Didn’t want to voice them.
‘From tomorrow, Carlo will have a partner, and they’ll both shadow your every move.’
If he meant to reassure, he failed miserably.
Two bodyguards.
The thought of always needing protection freaked her out. Never being able to make a spontaneous decision.
She didn’t want Nicki to grow up always on the defensive, intensely cautious and wary.
Heaven knew what effect this afternoon’s episode would have, or the long-term toll it might take.
‘I’ll ensure it will never happen again,’ Marcello vowed quietly, and she shot him a disbelieving look.
‘You can’t promise that. We both know Nicki has become a target.’
There were choices.
And she knew which one she had to make.
Nicki appeared subdued and clung to each of them in turn the instant they entered the foyer.
Carlo was there, so too was Maria, as well as a plain-clothes policewoman who spent considerable time talking with Nicki. A psychology tool which undoubtedly helped, and afterwards Marcello took Carlo aside for an in-depth rundown of the abduction.
Shannay couldn’t bear to let Nicki out of her sight, and she bathed her, then she picked at a salad while encouraging Nicki to eat.
Together with Marcello, they shared reading a bedtime story, and afterwards she remained at Nicki’s bedside long after her daughter fell asleep.
It was late when Marcello returned to the room and hunkered down beside the chair.
‘Come to bed,’ he bade quietly. ‘Nicki is perfectly safe.’
‘I need to be here if she wakes.’
‘The sensors monitor every sound. We’ll hear the instant she stirs.’
She looked at him in the dimmed lighting and slowly shook her head. ‘I can’t.’
He remained silent for several telling seconds, then he rose to his full height and walked from the room.
She wanted to cry, but she was all teared out, and she sat staring into space, living and reliving the afternoon from the moment before Nicki disappeared, trying to pin down something … anything that would provide a visual clue so she could correlate it in her mind with the facts Carlo had relayed.
Shannay wasn’t aware of falling asleep, only that she woke with a start, experienced a moment of disorientation before she recognised her whereabouts.
She checked Nicki, then turned towards the chair … only to hesitate. Her neck felt stiff, and she was cold. Not from the room’s temperature, but chilled and shaky from emotional exhaustion.
Even in bed she couldn’t get warm, and after what seemed an age spent tossing and turning she moved quietly out onto the gallery, contemplated going down to the kitchen to make a cup of tea, then changed her mind.
‘Unable to sleep?’
She hadn’t heard a sound or sensed any movement, yet Marcello was there, large and indomitable in the dim gallery light.
‘I looked in on Nicki, and decided to check on you,’ he offered quietly, and uttered a soft imprecation as a shiver shook her slim frame.
With an unconscious movement she wrapped her arms round her midriff in the hope it would minimise the shaking … without success, and the next instant he swept her into his arms and carried her to the master suite.
‘I’m fine,’ Shannay muttered as he slid into bed and drew her with him.
‘Sure you are.’ The soft oath whispered in the night air as he began smoothing his hands over her limbs, stimulating circulation with brisk sweeping movements, until the shivering slowly eased and warmth invaded her body.
She should leave, and she meant to … except she was reluctant to part from the compassion he offered, the security of being held in strong arms, and the touch of his lips against her forehead.
It felt so good to breathe in the familiar scent of him, the faint tinge of soap he’d used mingling with the muskiness of male.
It crept into her senses, as powerful as any aphrodisiac, stirring alive the hunger for his touch, and she murmured indistinctly as she pressed her lips into the warm skin, savoured a little, then slid her hand down his arm to rest on his hip.
Marcello tilted her chin and sought her mouth with his own, gently at first, taking it slow with an evocative slide of his tongue along her longer lip, felt her mouth part, allowing him entry, and the tentative welcome as her tongue moved to tease his own, sweetly cajoling in an elemental dance that could have only one ending.
He fought to control his arousal, knowing that if he didn’t it would be over before it began, and she needed a slow loving, a subtle, drifting touch that took a leisurely path towards fulfilment.
This was all about comfort and reassurance, before need.
He could give her that.
And he did. With the slow drift of his hand, the soft caress of his lips as he traversed every sensitive pulse-point, each hollow, pausing to suckle at the tightened bud at the peak of her breast, the tender swell beneath, and low over her quivering stomach to the curls at the apex of her thighs.
Lower, as he explored the sweet moistness, the delicious scent of woman and the swollen clitoris pulsing beneath the erotic laving of his tongue.
Her fingers threaded through his hair, then curled into its length and tugged as sensation spiralled through her body. She arched, unconsciously craving more … and he obliged, cradling her hips between his hands as he held her still.
She was his, mind, body and soul, and still he held back, exerting taut control as she shattered beneath his touch.
Marcello eased her into his arms, cradling her shuddering form as she buried her face into the curve of his neck … and when she went to move, he tightened his hold.
‘Stay,’ he bade huskily. ‘I need you like this.’
It was so easy to let her eyelids drift closed, to relax and let the darkness of sleep steal over her.
For a long time he simply held her, lulled by the evenness of her breathing, the soft sigh of her breath warm against his skin … and on the edge of sleep he wondered what the new day would bring.