The Legend of de Marco

He just looked at her for a long silent moment, until Gracie felt like screaming with tension, and then he nodded slowly. ‘Okay, then. I’ll give you the list and we’ll eat at eight—after champagne and canapés.’

Later that morning Gracie and George were returning to Rocco’s building after a visit to the shops. Rocco had issued her with a credit card and a list of dietary requirements not long after their exchange outside his study.

She’d scanned it and said faintly, ‘I’m not sure I can get mercury-free fish from Hawaii at such short notice. Is there anything you’re not allergic to?’

Rocco had grimaced faintly. ‘They’re not my requirements. I can eat anything. They’re my guest’s.’

‘Oh.’ Gracie hadn’t asked who his guest was. She’d just put the piece of paper down and smiled sweetly. ‘I’ll do my best to work within these narrow parameters.’

To her shock Rocco had looked as if he was holding back a laugh and she’d felt weak inside. But then the look had faded, and he’d just made some inarticulate sound and said, ‘Fine. See what you can do.’

It was only as she and George were about to enter the private entrance which led up to Rocco’s apartment that Gracie noticed the newspaper headline on the news kisok near them. Her feet stopped in their tracks when she read: ‘De Marco to wed society beauty Honora Winthrop …’

George saw her captivated by the headline and informed her, ‘That’s the boss’s latest companion.’

‘You mean his fiancée,’ Gracie corrected faintly. She didn’t know why, but she suddenly felt flat.

George murmured something else that Gracie didn’t hear, and then he was ushering her back into the building as the first few drops of a summer shower started to fall.

At the same moment on a floor high above them, back in his glass-walled office, Rocco was looking at the same headline. This was it. Another milestone moment on the way to securing his position in society. And yet the moment was curiously hollow and empty. He felt constricted, and he loosened his tie and opened the top button of his shirt without even being aware he was doing it.

All he could think about was Gracie’s face that morning, when she’d commented about the absurd menu requirements for dinner. He’d wanted to burst out laughing, sharing her moment of incredulity.

No one made him laugh.

It had taken all his control not to pull her up into his arms and plunder that soft pink mouth. To make her close those far too wary brown eyes. To forget everything but him.

She’d taken him by surprise, offering to cook dinner. In truth he almost hadn’t even registered what she’d said at first, he’d been so busy drinking her in. Not seeing her for the past two days had begun to seriously irritate him, and he’d only realised then that his decision to work from his study had stemmed in part from the fact she wouldn’t be able to avoid him in the apartment.

His thwarted desire to see her had also been at the root of his irrational anger over the mere unavailability of his chefs, which would never normally have caused him to flip out.

He could still feel the electrifying sensation of her petite form crashing into him. Arousal had been immediate and burning. His skin had prickled with desire as she’d stood there with that determined chin tilted, daring him to let her cook dinner when he’d been sceptical.

Something outside caught his eye then, and across the expanse of his office space he saw that his private lift was in use, the light ascending. It was probably just George or one of the other bodyguards, but even so his skin tingled. It could be Gracie. Before he knew what he was doing he had dumped the paper and was out of his chair, striding to the lift.

Gracie was standing beside George in the lift, still trying to figure out why the news that Rocco was engaged could be affecting her so much. She hardly knew the man, so how on earth could she be feeling … betrayed? He at worst hated her, and at best felt nothing for her. And yet she couldn’t help feeling that something intangible had drawn them together besides her brother. She couldn’t forget the heated intensity in his eyes the night they’d met.

Or earlier … in the apartment.

Gracie frowned, feeling seriously confused. The lift came to a halt too soon and she looked at George, who just shrugged. They weren’t at the penthouse level yet. The doors opened to reveal Rocco standing there, hands on hips. Jacket off, tie loose and top button open. Immediately Gracie’s throat went dry and her heart beat faster.

‘We were just shopping for dinner,’ she blurted out. Why did she feel so guilty when he must know exactly where they’d been?

Rocco looked at George and took Gracie’s bags out of her hands, handing them to the huge man whose hands were already full. ‘Gracie will be up shortly. I have something to discuss with her first.’

Rocco led the way through a labyrinth of glass-walled offices and Gracie followed reluctantly, still feeling a little raw. She couldn’t believe now that she’d ever had the temerity to think she could just waltz into this building to see if Steven might be here. That night felt like an age ago.

Rocco was holding open the door to his office, waiting for her to precede him. Somehow that small chivalrous gesture made her feel even more vulnerable. Once she’d walked in she went into attack mode to disguise her feelings, turning to face him as he shut the door.

‘If you’re going to have a go at me just because we went to the shops then—’

Rocco put up a hand. ‘Have I said a word?’

Gracie shut her mouth and shook her head. She felt very shabby next to Rocco. He’d changed since this morning into a suit. Gracie watched warily as he went around his desk and sat down. And then she took in the full majesty of the awe-inspiring view.

Momentarily distracted despite herself, she went towards the window. ‘Do you always have the best views?’

Rocco’s voice was cynical. ‘Of course. Don’t you know that people are judged by how high they are and how far they can see?’