Inherited by Ferranti

The next few hours were taken up with clearing Customs and then getting out of the airport. Marco had arranged for a limo to pick them up but nothing could be done about the bumper-to-bumper traffic they encountered all the way into Manhattan.

Finally the limo pulled up in front of The Rocci New York, a gleaming, needle-like skyscraper that overlooked Central Park West.

‘It’s gorgeous,’ Sierra breathed as she stepped out of the limo and tilted her head up to the sky. ‘I feel dizzy.’

‘I hope you’re not scared of heights.’ He couldn’t resist putting his hand on the small of her back as he guided her towards the marble steps that led up to the hotel’s entrance. ‘We’re staying on the top floor.’

‘Are we?’ Her eyes rounded like a child’s with excitement and Marco felt a deep primal satisfaction at making her happy. This was what he’d wanted seven years ago: to show the world to Sierra, to give it to her. To see her smile and know he’d been the one to put it there. No, he hadn’t loved her, but damn it, he’d liked her. He still did.

‘Come on,’ he urged as they mounted the steps. He realised he was as excited as she was to see the hotel, to share it with her. ‘Let me show The Rocci New York.’

* * *

Sierra followed Marco into the hotel’s soaring foyer of marble and granite, everything sleek and modern, so unlike the faded old world elegance of the European Rocci hotels. This was something new and different, something created solely by Marco, and Sierra liked it all the more for that reason. There were no hard memories to face here, just anticipation for all that lay ahead.

Marco spoke to someone at the concierge desk while Sierra strolled around the foyer, admiring the contemporary art that graced the walls, the sleek leather sofas and chairs and tables of polished wood. Everything felt clean and polished, sophisticated and streamlined. Empty, too, as the first guests would not arrive until tomorrow, after the official opening. Tomorrow night the hotel would have a gala in its ballroom to celebrate, and then the next day she’d fly back to London. But she’d enjoy every moment of being here.

Marco returned to her side, a key card resting in his palm. ‘Ready?’

‘Yes...’ She eyed the key card uncertainly. ‘Are we staying in the same room?’

The smile he gave her was teasingly wolfish. ‘Don’t worry, there’s plenty of room for two.’

It didn’t feel like there was plenty of room, Sierra thought as she stepped into the mirrored lift that soared straight towards the sky. The lift was enormous, their hotel suite undoubtedly far larger, and yet she felt the enclosed space keenly; Marco’s sleeve brushed her arm as he stood next to her and Sierra’s pulse jerked and leapt in response.

She needed to get a handle on her attraction. Either ignore it or act on it. And while the latter was a thrilling possibility, the former was the far wiser thing to do. She and Marco had way too much complicated history to think about getting involved now, even if just for a fling.

But what a fling it would be...

She could hardly credit she was thinking this way, and about Marco. What had happened to the man who had seemed so cold, so hostile? And what about the man she’d fled from seven years ago, whom she’d felt she couldn’t trust? Had it all really changed, simply because he’d finally been honest? Or had she changed and let go of the past, at least a little? Enough to make her contemplate an affair.

Not, she reminded herself, that Marco was thinking along the same lines. But she didn’t think she was imagining the tension that coiled and snapped between them. It wasn’t merely one-sided. She hoped.

The lift doors opened into the centre of the suite and Marco stepped aside so she could walk out first.

‘Welcome to the penthouse.’

Sierra didn’t speak for a moment, just absorbed the impact of her surroundings. The penthouse suite was circular, with floor-to-ceiling windows surrounding her so she felt as if she were poised above the city, ready to fly.

Marco’s footsteps clicked across the smooth floor of black marble as he switched on some lights. ‘Do you like it?’ he asked, and he almost sounded uncertain.

‘Like it?’ Sierra turned in a circle slowly, taking everything in: the luxurious but understated furnishings, nothing taking away from the spectacular panoramic view of the city. ‘I love it. It’s the most amazing room I’ve ever seen.’ She turned to him, gratified and even touched to see the relief that flashed across his face before he schooled his features into a more neutral, composed expression. ‘But surely this isn’t the whole suite?’ The circular room was a living area only. ‘I don’t see any beds. Or a bathroom, for that matter.’