The Legend of de Marco

‘WHAT’S going on?’ Gracie’s arms were folded, as if that could help protect her from the sheer animal appeal of the man standing just a few feet away. Her body was betraying her, going into full on readiness mode. Nipples peaking, stomach tightening, and down below, between her legs …

‘What are you talking about?’

Gracie willed her body to calm down and said tightly, ‘I met the new housekeeper. So what does that make me?’

Rocco’s hands were in his pockets. He wasn’t wearing a jacket, just a shirt and tie, and he looked magnificent with the sun streaming in behind him, highlighting the broadness of his physique. His shirt was so finely made that she could see the dark hue of his skin and the delineated muscles.

He came around his desk then and perched on the corner, hands still in his pockets. For a moment Gracie had a rush of imagining that he had done that to stop himself from reaching for her, and cursed her runaway imagination.

‘I hired Mrs Jones because I don’t want you doing any more housework.’

Gracie injected false brightness into her voice. ‘So I’m free to go?’

He shook his head, a glint in his eye. ‘Not a chance. You’ve never been less free.’ There was a thrilling edge to his voice that made Gracie shiver and feel intense self-disgust at the same time.

‘So … what? I’ve been promoted? To your bed?’ She tried to make herself sound disgusted and scathing, but the words came out breathy.

A tiny smile turned up the corner of Rocco’s mouth. ‘Yes, you’ve been promoted to my bed. I like the sound of that.’

Feeling incredibly crabby all of a sudden, Gracie blurted out, ‘Well, I don’t. I’m not just a convenient plaything, you know.’

His mouth quirked. ‘I am well aware of that. You’re like a very volatile explosive substance mixed with the charm of a kitten and the claws of a big cat.’

Gracie blinked at him and said truthfully, ‘I don’t know if that’s a compliment or an insult.’

‘Oh, it’s a compliment, believe me.’ He stood up and came closer. Gracie’s breath hitched. He cast a quick expressive glance either side of his office. ‘You were right, you know … about the glass. It’s so that I can see everyone at all times. It makes me nervous not to know who’s coming or what’s happening. But for once I wish I had blinds—or tinted windows.’

Gracie’s throat went dry. She was mesmerised by the look in his eyes.

His voice was low and intimate, distracting Gracie from dwelling on his enigmatic words or their meaning. ‘I’d lock the door so that I could take your hand and lead you over to the sofa. I’d pull you down and take off your top so that I could touch and taste your breasts. Then I would move my hand down, underneath the flimsy elastic of your trousers to your knickers. I would keep going until I could feel your soft curls. I wonder if they’re already moistened—’

‘Stop it!’ Gracie all but hissed, arms clenched so tight across her chest that it was hard to breathe. She was sweating now, her heart beating rapidly, and down below … Lord, she wanted Rocco to pick her up and spread her across his desk the way he had in the kitchen last night.

She cast a quick mortified glance left and right. All she saw were bent industrious heads. She looked back to Rocco and felt dizzy. To anyone observing from the outside all they’d see was Rocco with his hands in his pockets, talking to the strange nondescript girl who’d suddenly started working for him.

But then Gracie looked down on an impulse and saw where his trousers were barely confining the truth of their conversation. She went puce.

In some pathetic effort to redirect the conversation she avoided Rocco’s eye and asked, ‘The kitchen … this morning … did Mrs Jones …?’

She couldn’t finish—too mortified when she could see the carnage in her mind’s eye again. She felt a finger come to her chin and Rocco tipped her face up. He’d moved closer, and she could smell heat and sex and lust. Her belly clenched tight with anticipation.

He shook his head. ‘No. I cleared it up.’

Relief flooded Gracie even as she registered surprise. She said faintly, ‘Somehow I can’t see that happening.’

Rocco let her chin go and smiled dryly. ‘I can pick things off the floor, you know. I’m not completely helpless.’

Gracie shivered. He wasn’t helpless at all. He was like some magnificent urban animal. And then she thought of him picking up her knickers, and that dress that he’d ripped apart with his bare hands. With a muffled groan Gracie turned away to leave. Her head was churning, trying to make sense of where she stood now with Steven and everything, but she couldn’t think when she was within three feet of this man.

She stopped when she heard Rocco say from behind her, ‘Wait.’

Reluctantly she turned around again. He was standing behind his desk. She breathed a little easier.

‘Do you have an up-to-date passport?’

She nodded, wondering where this was going.

‘Good. In that case we’re leaving this afternoon for Thailand for two days, and from there we’ll go to New York for a couple of days.’