The Legend of de Marco

At lunchtime Rocco came back to the apartment. He cursed himself for his weakness, and wasn’t prepared when Consuela informed him that Gracie had gone out a couple of hours before.

He went into the bedroom but there was no note—just their bags, which had been unpacked. He cursed. Why would she have left a note?

He was on his way back out, feeling thoroughly disgruntled, when he noticed something on the chest of drawers. It was his credit card and the few notes he’d left for Gracie, less only about twenty dollars. As if she’d literally taken just enough to get her downtown.

Rocco laughed at himself harshly. Had he really expected she would head straight for the designer boutiques on Fifth Avenue? This was the woman who had personally taken the diamond necklace and earrings back to the shop in the hotel in Bangkok.

Feeling even more disgruntled now, Rocco scooped up the card and left the cash, cursing himself for even coming to check up on her and trying to ignore the tight feeling when he imagined her finding her way around or seeing the sights on her own.

It was only when he was in his car and heading back downtown that his insides went cold and he realised that he’d effectively let Gracie go. Now and in Bangkok he’d left her to her own devices, and at any moment—like right now—she could be disappearing into thin air.

The fact that he’d trusted her so implicitly made him extremely nervous, and to his absolute chagrin he couldn’t concentrate on one thing for the rest of the afternoon until he’d got confirmation from the concierge that she’d returned to the apartment. He did not relish the relief that made him feel so weak.

CHAPTER TEN

WHEN Gracie returned late that afternoon she was exhausted but happy. Well—she made a face at her sweaty reflection in the mirror over the hall table as she put down her bag—she wasn’t happy, exactly. She’d have been happy if she’d had Rocco with her to share the delights of climbing to the top of the Empire State Building, and she’d have been happier if she hadn’t had to sit in Central Park on her own eating a sandwich.

She worried her lower lip with her teeth. And she’d have been happy if there had been an e-mail from Steven, but there had been nothing waiting for her in her mailbox when she’d found an internet café. She’d sent an e-mail to his address anyway, in the futile hope that she might hear something back.

Sighing now, she went outside to take in the majestic view of Central Park again.

She’d had to realise as she had gone around on her own that Rocco hadn’t brought her on this trip to hold her hand and be her guide—no matter how nice and thoughtful he’d been in Bangkok. The sooner she remembered that the better.

Leaning on the wall overlooking Central Park, Gracie smiled to herself, feeling a little bemused. Was this how it was for Rocco normally? He’d give his credit card to his current mistress, she’d shop all day and then flaunt herself like a peacock on his arm in the evening?

‘You didn’t take the credit card.’

Gracie whirled around with a squeal, her heart hammering at the sight of Rocco lounging nonchalantly against the terrace door. It was as if she’d conjured him up. ‘You scared me. I didn’t hear you come in.’

Rocco came towards Gracie. Something in his eyes looked dangerous and she backed against the wall.

She gulped. ‘No, I didn’t take the card. Why would I? I don’t need anything. You bought me enough clothes to last a dozen trips abroad.’

Rocco’s face was hard. He enclosed Gracie by putting his hands on the wall behind her. She fought not to let his unique scent and presence weaken her.

He sounded irritated. ‘You don’t get it, do you? That’s what you’re meant to do. So tell me what you did do, then.’

Fire rose within her and Gracie matched his harsh tone. ‘For your information I borrowed twenty dollars and went downtown, where I took some money out of a hole in the wall from my own account. Then I queued for two hours and went to the top of the Empire State Building. After that I walked all the way back to the park and bought a sandwich and ate it. Is that all right?’ Gracie felt guilty for not mentioning the internet café, but Rocco seemed too volatile for her to bring Steven into the mix.

‘No, damn you, it’s not all right.’

Rocco’s head descended and his hands closed around her arms. His kiss was harsh and demanding. Gracie tried to refuse to let him do this—take out his anger on her because she wasn’t like his other women—but he was relentless, and she couldn’t resist. So she fought fire with fire.

Fingers digging deep into his hair, her whole body arched towards him, hips grinding into his. At least this was honest between them. This transcended all thought and rationale and reduced them to base desires that had to be sated or they would die.

Their fragile truce had just been smashed.

He picked her up in his arms and Gracie couldn’t help pressing kisses all over his jaw and neck. She was already opening his shirt and undoing his tie. When they got to the bedroom Rocco lowered her down onto the bed and stripped off his jacket and tie, ripping open his shirt. Gracie pulled her top over her head and yanked down the shorts she’d been wearing, kicking off her sanda

ls.

When Rocco was gloriously naked he came down beside her and Gracie just looked at him, unable to stop her heart from swelling or from touching his stubbled jaw with one hand. She couldn’t hold it back. ‘I missed you today,’ she whispered.

Rocco just looked at her, and something flashed in his eyes before they darkened. ‘Don’t say that. I don’t want to hear it.’

‘Well, tough,’ Gracie said obstinately. ‘Because I did miss you and I’ve just said it again.’

With a growl Rocco came over her and silenced her with his mouth, his hands roving over her body, removing her bra and panties until she was as naked as he. And then she couldn’t even have articulated her name as Rocco took her with a thoroughness that had her crying out over and over again.