Sweet Revenge. Эбби Грин

a very big house,’ Nicki declared, visibly awed by the luxurious interior as they moved through the various rooms.

      Shannay provided a running explanation as they completed the first level and trod the stairs to the upper level.

      ‘I like our wing best,’ Nicki clutched a tighter hold of Shannay’s hand, ‘‘specially my room.’

      Who wouldn’t?

      Marcello joined them for lunch, and from his casual attire he’d obviously conducted the morning’s work in his home office.

      Black jeans, a white shirt unbuttoned at the neck and the long sleeves rolled back at the cuffs, he resembled a dark angel, rugged with his hair less smoothly groomed than usual … almost as if he’d thrust fingers through its thickness in exasperation. And if so, why?

      In the early days of their marriage she would have walked up to him, cupped his broad facial features between both hands and leaned in to savour the touch of his mouth. Feel his arms close round her slim body as he deepened the kiss, and exult in his arousal.

      A time when she’d thought nothing could damage their love.

      How naive had she been?

      ‘Must I have a nap?’

      Shannay caught the subdued excitement bubbling beneath the surface as Nicki silently pleaded with her.

      ‘Uh-huh.’ She tempered it with a smile, hating the disappointment clouding her daughter’s expressive features. ‘Everyone has a siesta after lunch.’

      Nicki’s eyes grew round with surprise. ‘Even grown-ups?’ She looked at Marcello. ‘You, too?’

      ‘Sometimes, if I’m home and not too busy.’ His smile transformed his features, and Shannay felt the familiar sensation curl deep within in memory of how they’d shared the afternoon siesta when sleep hadn’t been a factor.

      Marcello’s sanction made it OK, and Nicki obediently caught hold of Shannay’s hand as she led her daughter upstairs to her room.

      With outer clothes removed and tucked beneath light covers, Nicki fell asleep within minutes, and Shannay moved through to her own room, too restless to do other than flick through a magazine.

      No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t shake an instinctively inexplicable feeling of impending … what?

      She shook her head in exasperation, then dispensed with the magazine. It was crazy. She was crazy.

      It was mid-afternoon when Carlo brought the expensive Porsche four-wheel-drive to the front door, and with Nicki happily ensconced in the rear seat between Shannay and Marcello they headed for the nearest park.

      Her daughter’s enthusiasm for everything new appeared boundless, and she watched as Nicki explored, frequently calling for Marcello to come look at a butterfly, a bee, a pretty flower.

      By day’s end, fed and bathed, Nicki contentedly settled in bed as Marcello read her a bedtime story, then when he reached the end he brushed a light kiss to his daughter’s forehead, bade her goodnight and left the room.

      Shannay adjusted the night-light, checked the internal monitor, and when she turned Nicki was already breathing evenly in sleep.

      If she could, she’d request a tray in her room in lieu of dinner. Except it would be seen as a cop-out, and she refused to allow Marcello to witness so much as a chink in her feminine armour.

      Instead, she showered and dressed in an elegant trouser suit, left her hair loose, applied minimum make-up and went down to join Marcello.

      A familiar sensation knotted her stomach as she caught sight of his tall, compelling frame, only to tighten considerably as he turned to face her.

      There was a degree of lazy arrogance apparent in those dark eyes … a knowledge that probed deep beyond the surface and saw too much.

      In the full blush of love, she’d thought it incredibly romantic. Now she viewed it as an aberration.

      Once again she declined wine in favour of chilled water, and sought to set the record straight.

      ‘There’s no need for you to ignore your social life while Nicki and I are here.’

      ‘Once our daughter is settled for the night I should feel under no obligation to entertain her mother?’ Marcello’s voice held a tinge of something she didn’t care to define.

      ‘You got it in one.’

      ‘Why would you imagine I’d choose to ignore a guest in my home?’

      ‘Cut the polite verbal word play,’ Shannay advised. ‘There’s no need to insult my intelligence by pretending we’re anything other than opposing forces in all areas of our lives.’

      ‘Nicki being the one exception?’

      ‘The only exception.’

      ‘But a very important factor, wouldn’t you agree?’

      He was doing it again, and she glared at him as she took a seat at the table.

      ‘I concede the need to maintain a friendly relationship in Nicki’s presence. But rest assured, the less I see of you, the better.’

      ‘Afraid, Shannay?’

      ‘Of you? No.’

      ‘Perhaps you should be,’ Marcello warned silkily as he indicated she should help herself to the chicken stew gently steaming in the serving dish.

      ‘Oh, please.’ She transferred a small portion of stew onto her plate, replaced the ladle and speared him a glittering look. ‘Cut me a break, why don’t you?’

      He served himself a generous portion, then he selected a fork from the flatware displayed.

      ‘Almost four years,’ he drawled. ‘Yet the pulse at the base of your throat betrays you with a faster beat.’

      ‘Your ego astounds me.’

      ‘Have you not wondered how our lives would be now had you remained here?’

      ‘Not at all,’ she managed coolly, and knew she lied, aware of the nights she had lain awake imagining that very thing. How their pursuit of happiness had faltered, then fallen apart. Perhaps Nicki wouldn’t be the only child she’d bear … because for the life of her she couldn’t think of sharing her body with another man or having his child.

      ‘Interesting.’

      Shannay carefully folded her linen napkin and placed it on the table, then she rose to her feet and shot him a killing look. ‘Go to hell, Marcello.’

      ‘Sit down, Shannay.’

      ‘Only to be picked apart and analysed merely for your amusement? Forget it.’

      She turned away from the table and had only taken a few steps when firm hands closed over her shoulders.

      In a strictly reactive movement she lifted her head and glared at him. ‘What next? Strong-arm tactics?’

      ‘No. Just this.’

      He lowered his head down to hers and captured her mouth with his own in a hard kiss that took her by surprise and plundered at will.

      The faint cry of distress rose and died in her throat, and almost as if he sensed it his touch gentled a little and became frankly sensual, seeking the sensitive tissues before stroking the edge of her tongue with the tip of his own in a flagrant dance that stirred at the latent passion simmering beneath the surface of her control.

      She felt his hands shift as one slid to cup the back of her head, while the other smoothed down her back and brought her close against him.

      Her eyelids shuttered down as she fought against capitulation. The temptation to return his kiss was unbearable, and she groaned as he eased back and began a sensual tasting, teasing the soft