The Price Of Desire. Sandra Marton

feeling was pathetically short-lived. The pictures of children hanging from the ceiling of the chandeliered ballroom punched a hole through the euphoric warmth she’d dared to bask in. Her breath caught as pain ripped through her. If her baby had lived she would have been four by now.

      ‘Are you sure you’re okay?’ Marco demanded in a low undertone.

      ‘Yes, I’m fine.’

      Unwilling to risk his incisive gaze, she hurried to their table and greeted an ex-footballer who’d recently been knighted for his work with children.

      Breathing through her pain, it took a moment for her to realise she was the subject of daggered looks and whispered sniggers from the other two occupants of the table.

      Feeling her insides congeal with familiar anger, she summoned a smile and pasted it on her face as the ex-footballer’s trophy wife leaned forward, exposing enough cleavage to sink a battleship.

      ‘Hi, I’m Lisa. This is my sister, Sophia,’ she said.

      Marco nodded in greeting and introduced Sasha.

      Sophia flashed Marco a man-gobbling smile, barely sparing Sasha a glance.

      A different form of sickness assailed Sasha as she watched the women melt under Marco’s dazzling charisma. Eager eyes took in his commanding physique, the hard beauty of his face, the sensual mouth and the air of authority and power that cloaked him.

      He murmured something that made Sophia giggle with delight. When her gaze met Sasha’s, it held a touch of triumph that made Sasha want to reach out and pull out her fake hair extensions. Instead she kept her smile and turned towards the older man.

      If fake boobs and faker lashes were his thing, Marco was welcome to them.

      Marco clenched his fist on his thigh and forced himself to calm down. He’d never been so thoroughly and utterly ignored by a date in his life.

      So Sasha wasn’t technically his date. So what? She’d arrived with him. She would leave with him. Would it hurt her to try and make conversation with him instead of engaging in an in-depth discussion of the current Premier League?

      Slowly unclenching his fist, he picked up his wine glass.

      Sasha laughed. The whole table seemed to pause to drink it in—even the two women who had so rudely ignored her so far.

      By the time the tables were cleared of their dinner plates he’d had enough.

      ‘Sasha.’

      She smiled an excuse at the older man before turning to him.

      ‘Yes?’

      At the sight of her wide, genuine smile—the same one she’d worn when she’d offered her friendship at Casa de Leon—something in his chest contracted. He forced himself to remember the reason Sasha Fleming was here beside him. Why she was in his life at all.

      Rafael. The baby brother he’d always taken care of.

      But he isn’t a child any more …

      Marco suppressed the unsettling voice. ‘The ceremony’s about to start. You’re presenting the second award.’

      Her eyes widened a fraction, then anxiety darkened their depths.

      ‘Yes, of course. I … I have my speech ready. I’d better read it over one more time, just in case …’ Her hands shook as she plucked a tiny piece of paper from her bag.

      Without thinking, he covered her hand with his. ‘Take a deep breath. You’ll be fine.’

      Eyes locked onto his, she slowly nodded. ‘I … Thanks.’

      The MC took to the stage and announced the first award-giver. Sasha smiled and clapped but, watching her closely, Marco caught a glimpse of the pain in her eyes. Forcing himself to concentrate on the speech, he listened to the story of a four-year-old who’d saved her mother’s life by ringing for an ambulance and giving clear, accurate directions after her mother had fallen down a ravine.

      The ice-cold tightening his chest since he’d stepped from the car increased as he watched the little girl bound onto the stage in a bright blue outfit, her face wreathed in smiles. Forcing himself not to go there, not to dwell in the past, he turned to gauge Sasha’s reaction.

      She was frozen, her whole body held taut.

      Frowning, he leaned towards her. ‘This is ridiculous. Tell me what’s wrong. Now.’

      She jumped, her eyes wide, darkly haunted with unshed tears. Her smile flashed, only this time it lacked warmth or substance.

      ‘I told you, I’m fine. Or I would if I’d remembered to bring a tissue.’

      Wordlessly, he reached into his tuxedo jacket and handed her his handkerchief, a million questions firing in his mind.

      Accepting it, she dabbed at her eyes. ‘If I look a horror, don’t tell me until I come back from the stage, okay?’ she implored.

      It was on the tip of his tongue to trip out the usual platitudes he gave to his dates. Instead he nodded. ‘Agreed.’

      Marco watched her gather herself together. A subtle roll of her shoulders and a look of determination settled over her features. By the time she rose to present the award her smile was fixed in place.

      Watching the lights play over her dark hair, illuminate her beautiful features and the generous curve of her breasts, Marco felt the familiar tightening in his groin and bit back a growl of frustration.

      ‘As most of you know, Rafael de Cervantes was supposed to present this award to Toby this evening. Instead he’s skiving off somewhere in sunny Spain.’

      Laughter echoed through the room.

      ‘No, seriously, just as Toby said a prayer before rushing into his burning home to save his little sister and brother, so we should all take a moment to say a prayer for Rafael’s speedy recovery. Toby fought for his family to live. Not once did he give up. Even when the rescuers told him there was no hope for his little brother he ignored them and rescued him. Why? Because he’d promised his mother he’d take care of his siblings. And he never once wavered from that promise. There are lessons for all of us in Toby’s story. And that’s never to give up. No matter how small or big your dreams, no matter how tough or impossible the way forward seems, never give up. I’m delighted to present this award to Toby Latham, for his outstanding bravery against all odds.’

      Sasha’s voice broke on the last words. Although she tried to hide it, Marco caught the strain in her face and the pain behind her smile even as thunderous applause broke out in the ballroom.

      Automatically Marco followed suit, but inside ice clenched his heart, squeezing until he couldn’t breathe. It was always like this when he allowed himself to remember what Angelique had taken from him. What his weakness had cost him. He’d failed to take care of his own.

      Never again, he vowed silently.

      Sasha stepped down from the stage and made her way back to her seat. Despite the rushing surge of memories, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. In fact he wanted to jump up, grab her hand and lead her away from the ballroom.

      She reached the table and smiled at him. ‘Thank God I didn’t fall on my face.’

      Sliding gracefully into the seat, she tucked her hair behind one ear. In that moment Marco, struggling to breathe and damning himself to hell, knew he craved her.

      Impossibly. Desperately.

      Sasha caught the expression on Marco’s face and her heart stopped.

      ‘What’s the matter? Oh, my God, if you tell me I have food caught in my teeth I’ll kill you!’ she vowed feverishly.

      Desperately blinking back the threatening tears, she tried to stem the painful memories that looking into Toby Latham’s face had brought. She couldn’t afford to let Marco see her pain. The pain