Once Molly was back in the car and the suitcase stowed, Mario got back behind the wheel. ‘I suppose I should warn you that the press will go wild about our forthcoming marriage,’ he said. ‘I know you are not keen on the idea, but I think the best approach is to let everyone believe this is a genuine love-match. That is what I told them back there at your flat. They seemed to be delighted by it.’
Sabrina stared at him in wide-eyed alarm. ‘You told them I was in love with you?’
He grinned at her wickedly. ‘Of course I did. I have my reputation to maintain, don’t forget. I can’t have people thinking you married me for my money. It’s demeaning.’
‘But I am only marrying you because of Molly, and it was your choice to pay me,’ she pointed out wryly.
He gave a shrug of indifference. ‘Yes, but no one else needs to know that. Have you decided how much you want?’
Sabrina swallowed tightly as she turned to look out of the passenger window. There was no amount of money on this earth that would ever bring her best friend back, but if she could put any of the money Mario gave her into an investment account for Molly it would be something. When Sabrina’s mother had died, she had been left with nothing. The stigma of being penniless and at the mercy of others’ charity had never left her, even after all these years. Of course Molly, being under Mario’s protection, would want for nothing, but Sabrina wanted to demonstrate her commitment to her godchild by herself providing her with a nest egg when she came of age. She was determined not to touch a penny of it for herself.
‘I can almost hear the ching-ching of the cash register in your brain,’ Mario said. ‘You are doing the sums, calculating how much you will need to set yourself up for life.’
She sent him a spiteful glance. ‘I want half a million for every year we are married.’
‘In Australian dollars or euros?’ he asked without flinching.
Sabrina tried to recall the current exchange-rate. ‘Um…in euros,’ she said, wishing she had asked for more just to annoy him.
‘If you give me your details, I will make sure the first instalment is in there once we are married.’
Sabrina toyed with the strap of her handbag for a moment. ‘You said earlier you expected me to take your name,’ she said, pausing to glance at him again. ‘Is that really necessary in this day and age?’
‘Sabrina Marcolini,’ he drawled. ‘Now that has rather a nice ring to it, does it not?’
She pursed her lips. ‘I prefer Halliday. It was my mother’s maiden name.’
‘You don’t have a father?’
‘Not that I know of,’ she said, fiddling with her handbag strap again. ‘My mother never mentioned him. I think he might have been married or something. She seemed reluctant to give me any details. I found a photo once, but when I asked who it was she scrunched it up and I never saw it again.’
There was a momentary silence.
‘You said it was your mother’s name,’ he said. ‘Does that mean she has since married again?’
‘No, it means she is dead,’ Sabrina said, stripping her voice of the aching emotion she still felt. ‘She died when I was ten. The train she was travelling to work on was derailed. She was the last to be pulled out of the wreckage.’
‘I am very sorry,’ he said. ‘Neither Ric nor Laura ever mentioned it to me.’
‘Laura understood how hard it was to grow up without a mother,’ she said. ‘She lost hers when she was a little older than I was, but when her father married Ingrid only weeks later she was totally devastated. She felt she had lost both of her parents right then and there. Her father died just before she met Ric…but I suppose you know all this?’
He shifted the gears, a frown stitching his brow. ‘I did not really know Laura all that well,’ he said. ‘I only met her for the first time at the wedding, where, if you remember, I also met you. Ric and I went to elementary school together. We remained in close contact even when his family emigrated to Australia when he was fourteen.’
‘Did you ever visit him?’
‘Yes, I have been to Australia seven times now, and Ric came back to Italy on holidays occasionally,’ he said. ‘My brother was here in Sydney just a couple of months ago.’
‘Yes, I read about it in the paper,’ Sabrina said. ‘I saw the name and assumed it was your brother. He was here for a lecturing tour, wasn’t he?’
‘Yes, but also to sort things out with his estranged wife.’
Sabrina felt her brows lift up in intrigue. ‘Oh?’
He changed the gears again. ‘They were living apart for five years but they are back together now,’ he said. ‘They renewed their vows only a few weeks ago. They are expecting a child in a few months.’
‘Are you pleased about their reconciliation?’ she asked, watching his expression for a moment.
‘I am very happy for them both,’ he answered after a pause. ‘I might not be a family man, but I recognise when a couple belong together. There was a time however when I thought Antonio would have been better off moving on without Claire, but I am prepared to admit I was wrong.’
‘I don’t think it is wise to take sides in a marital dispute,’ Sabrina said, thinking of all the times Laura had let off steam about Ric’s hot-headed stubbornness, only to be madly in love with him the next moment.
As the silence stretched Sabrina couldn’t help feeling Mario’s brother’s situation explained a lot about his cynical attitude towards relationships. He had seen his brother go through a lengthy estrangement. There was no way he was going to give any woman in his life the same opportunity to put his life on hold. His relationships were on his terms and his terms only. Love didn’t come into it, nor did permanency, even when there was a child involved.
Mario needed her now to act as a substitute mother to Molly, but she was on borrowed time, and if she had any hope of coming out of this with her heart intact she had better keep reminding herself of it.
This is not for ever.
This is not for real.
She took a mental gulp and added: this is dangerous.
CHAPTER THREE
THE hotel Mario was staying in was exactly where Sabrina had expected someone of his ilk to stay: top-end luxury, panoramic harbour views, several five-star restaurants, as well as a piano bar and an in-house gym, and a health spa which was second to none in terms of decadent indulgence. His penthouse suite was superbly decorated with the latest in high-street trends, the modern open-plan design making it feel more like a mansion than a hotel apartment.
The views from every window were breathtaking, even for someone who had lived in Sydney all of her life, Sabrina conceded. The harbour was dotted with colourful yachts and the bustle of passenger ferries criss-crossing the sparkling waters to take commuters and tourists wherever they needed to go.
Molly was still sleeping in her carrier, which gave Sabrina time to unpack a few things into the spacious wardrobe Mario had told her she was to use during their short stay.
However, she resolutely turned her back on the massive king-size bed made up in a thousand threads of Egyptian cotton, with numerous feather pillows, and a doona that looked as if it was filled with air. But even so she couldn’t help thinking of Mario lying there, possibly naked; yes, she decided, he would definitely be a naked sleeper, his long, tanned limbs splayed out in any number of erotic poses.
She gave herself a stern mental shake and concentrated on the job at hand. She had a tiny baby to settle into yet another routine, and in a few days a long-haul flight to another country, a country where she knew only the basics of communication, in spite