The Legend of de Marco (11 page)

He nodded, his eyes unreadable. ‘If you want.’

Gracie looked at the jewels again, and after a long second nodded. ‘Okay. I’ll wear them.’

Rocco took out the necklace and deftly fastened it around her neck. Then he handed her the earrings. She
put them in with shaky hands. The necklace felt cool and heavy around her throat, and the earrings swung when she moved her head.

Rocco held out an arm and said, ‘Shall we?’

Gracie nodded and put her arm in his, and felt ridiculously as if she were walking to some kind of gallows.

Rocco kept Gracie’s arm firmly in his. He could feel the tiny tremors in her body as they went down in the lift. She was
nervous.
In the reflection of the lift doors she almost looked a little ill. And despite that she looked stunning. When she’d emerged from the bedroom for a split second he hadn’t recognised her. Her hair up showed off her long graceful neck. Make-up made her cheeks dewy, her eyes even bigger, lashes so long he’d seen them from across the room.

The colours of the dress shimmered around her like a hundred exotic birds, and the way the material clung to her curves showed off her petite lithe physique to perfection. With the tiniest amount of polish she had morphed into a beauty who could give any woman in his sphere a run for her money.

The diamonds were picking up the colours of her dress and flashed like fire around her neck and ears. He was so used to the routine of buying women jewellery when he took them out like this that he’d not been prepared for Gracie’s reaction, and he didn’t like the way it added to the clamour in his head urging him to believe in her innocence. The feeling of claustrophobia was back, but this time for entirely different reasons.

They travelled the short distance to where the function was being held in the chauffeur-driven limousine which had picked them up from the airport. When they stepped out of the car Gracie relished the warm, sultry blanket
of air. Rocco was leading her into a beautifully ornate wooden building, its lines long and swooping in the distinctive Thai style. It was all so impossibly foreign. Like nothing she’d ever seen before. Gracie was drunk on the sights and smells, and the fascinatingly staccato sounds of the Thai language.

The building was open to the elements on all sides and surrounded by stunning gardens where the trees were lit up with fairy lights, giving everything a magical air. The rain had stopped and stars lit up the sky. Beautiful Thai women moved through the crowd in traditional long skirts, serving drinks and food.

Gracie refused a glass of champagne and Rocco replaced it with water, saying easily, ‘You don’t drink at all?’

Gracie grimaced and avoided his eye. ‘My mother was an alcoholic—and my grandmother. I’ve never touched the stuff.’

He looked at her for a long moment. She glanced at him quickly and then away again.

She couldn’t believe she’d just told him that so easily, and spoke again to distract him. ‘The women are so petite. I feel like an elephant next to them.’

Rocco took her free hand and lifted it to his mouth. Gracie looked up and her breath caught when he kissed the inner palm. ‘You do
not
look like an elephant. You look stunning.’

‘Th-thank you,’ Gracie stuttered. She couldn’t really believe she was here. In this dress. With Rocco de Marco. It was as if the fantasy she’d indulged in after they’d met for the first time had been plucked out of her brain and made real. It was too much.

She knew rationally that he was only being charming because she was there to fulfil a function in his bed, because he desired her momentarily, but she couldn’t help
her silly heart from thumping ominously. Her mind was screaming,
Danger, danger.
Especially after what had happened on the plane, when he’d shown his deep mistrust of her. But then he’d dissolved that anger by asking her to explain about the passport. She cursed him again silently for removing her defences as though they were mere children’s play-blocks.

Rocco led her further into the crowd, through the main room and out to where tables dotted the gardens, candles flickering like small beacons of light. Gracie was glad Rocco had thought to give her some mosquito repellent earlier. She could well imagine that her whiter than white skin would be a magnet on a night like tonight.

Just then a man approached Rocco and clapped him heartily on the back, and that was the start of a long evening during which people approached Rocco and talked to him about things Gracie had never heard of nor could understand. Things like market forces and trends. But she didn’t mind. She’d always found it fascinating just to listen to other people talk.

‘Are you bored?’

Gracie looked up at Rocco, genuinely shocked. Another man had just walked away. ‘No! Why? Did you think I was?’

‘No,’ he said dryly. ‘But you’re awfully quiet and that makes me nervous.’

She shrugged. ‘I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about most of the time.’ Then she smiled. ‘I would have thought that was a welcome relief.’

Rocco quirked a smile. ‘Strangely enough, not as much as I would have expected.’ He faced her fully then, and asked, ‘That folder in your case, with the sketchings and text … what is it?’

Gracie flushed and her heart constricted. Reality intruded
on the halcyon moment, reminding her why she was there. ‘I should have known you’d looked at that too. Did you expect to find plans for a bank raid?’

She looked away, and then back when Rocco caught her chin with his fingers. He actually looked uncomfortable for a moment.

‘I might have suspected finding something like that before … but now I don’t know …’

Something inside Gracie swooped dangerously. She took a breath, and a leap into this very tenuous evidence of Rocco’s trust before it disappeared. ‘I did a basic art degree. I want to write children’s books some day. It’s just a few sketches and ideas. Nothing special.’

‘I thought they looked pretty good.’

Gracie looked at him, a curious melting feeling in her chest. ‘Really?’

He nodded. Gracie’s heart kicked once, hard. He took his hand from her chin.

‘What made you want to write children’s books?’

Gracie’s hands played with her bag. She’d never really told anyone this before and felt ridiculously exposed. ‘I was never very good at school … not like—’ She stopped herself from saying
Steven
, not wanting to jeopardise the fragile truce that seemed to exist between her and Rocco now. ‘Not like most of the other kids … I always loved reading and books—the way they could they could transport you into another world.’ She shrugged now, feeling silly, and avoided Rocco’s piercing black gaze. ‘It struck a chord and I wanted to recreate that.’

Rocco looked at Gracie’s downbent head. Her hair shone like gold fire. He could imagine only too well how tantalising it must have been to lose herself in stories and magic as a child when she’d been living in such an inconstant world.

Rocco said nothing and Gracie looked up, nearly taking a step backwards at the intensity of his expression. She quickly became transfixed by his mouth, wanting to relax it from the taut line it had become.

‘Don’t look at me like that,’ he growled.

‘Or what?’ Gracie asked, suddenly feeling confident in a way she never had before. It was a confidence that came from Rocco not laughing at her ambition and from being
desired.

‘Or I’ll take you out of here right now and do something about it.’

Gracie looked up at him, feeling bold. ‘I’m not stopping you.’

With a half-muttered curse Gracie felt her hand being taken in Rocco’s and she was being led back through the throng. She felt buoyant that she could have this singular effect on Rocco. She felt buoyant with this growing ease between them.

Within minutes they were in the back of his car, the privacy window was up, and Gracie turned unquestioningly into Rocco’s arms, her mouth searching desperately for his …

A short while later, when they got into the lift back at the hotel, Rocco could see Gracie’s face, pink with embarrassment, reflected in the steel surface. She’d stopped him just as he’d been stepping from the car and whispered, ‘They’ll
know.
’

Her hair was down and dishevelled, her mouth swollen. And her hand was clasped tight in his. He’d almost taken her in the back seat of the car, a simple kiss having exploded into something much hotter within seconds.

Gracie’s eyes were downcast, and he had to curb the concern he felt. He was struggling to rein in anger mixed with desire. He didn’t
do
this. He didn’t become so transfixed
with a woman that he left functions early. And he didn’t make love to women in the backs of cars. It was as if any enclosed space automatically became a provocation, an enticement to seduce her.

Only the tiniest sliver of sanity was preventing him from hitting the
Stop
button in the lift so he could hike up that dress and touch her. And also the knowledge that his friend Sebastian would not appreciate the X-rated CCTV elevator show.

When they reached the penthouse suite Gracie moved skittishly away, taking her hand out of his. Rocco’s body throbbed to continue what they’d started.

He saw her hands go to the necklace. He frowned. ‘What are you doing?’

‘I want to take this off.’

She sounded breathless and husky and vulnerable all at once, and Rocco’s chest tightened. Maybe he wasn’t the only one feeling off-kilter because of this insatiable desire.

He stepped forward and gritted his teeth as her scent, musky with arousal, hit his nostrils. He told himself harshly that he could control himself. He took off the necklace and she handed him the earrings too.

She was looking around, still avoiding his eye. ‘We should put them in the safe or something.’

Rocco sighed with impatience at her pragmatism, but duly found the box and put the jewellery in the suite’s safe. As he went back out to the living area he yanked off his bow tie and shed his jacket. Gracie had disappeared, but the sliding doors were open. He went out. She was standing at the edge of the shimmering pool in her bare feet, shoes tumbled nearby.

Her dress glittered against the dusky night sky, her skin glowed like a pearl, and he felt as if he was falling.

Gracie heard Rocco’s footfall behind her. She finally felt a little more in control. As they’d walked through the hotel lobby she’d felt as if everyone could see her shame all over her skin.
How
had she morphed into this person who felt confident enough to entice Rocco away from a party and then jump on him in the back of his car like a sex-starved groupie?

In the lift on the way up to the suite she’d been so hungry for him that she’d ached for him to stop the lift and take her right there, with her dress pushed up around her waist and her knickers ripped off.

The strength of her desire had shocked her so much that she’d felt as if she might break apart if Rocco touched her as soon as they got into the apartment. She’d focused on the jewellery to stall him, even for a moment, too embarrassed even to look at him.

Rocco was standing beside her now and she glanced at him, feeling shy all of a sudden. He was looking down at the water.

She wondered if he felt overwhelmed by this intensity too, and then had to berate herself. Rocco wouldn’t feel overwhelmed by anything.

She spoke to break the tense silence. ‘The air feels denser … more humid.’

Rocco glanced up at the sky. ‘A storm is about to hit. The rain will start again any minute now.’

Gracie looked up and saw threatening clouds overhead. She heard the clap of thunder and flinched minutely. ‘Is it really warm when it falls?’

‘Yes.’

Gracie felt as if her nerve-endings were exposed. She took a breath and turned towards Rocco. ‘What happened back there … at the function … and in the car. It scares me a little—the way things escalate so fast between us.’

The air went still around them, and another distant clap of thunder came.

Rocco said carefully, without looking at her, ‘What do you mean?’

Gracie shrugged and turned back to curl her bare unvarnished toes over the edge of the pool. She looked down. ‘I’m not sure. I just … I want you to know that I don’t … I’ve never felt like this before.’

She felt him turn towards her and looked up. He seemed angry.

‘You think this is normal for me? This … insane desire?’

Hurt lanced Gracie. ‘I don’t think it’s insane. It’s just … it feels like it’s not entirely in our control …’

‘You’ve got that right,’ he said broodingly, and looked away again.

Something clicked into place and Gracie felt as if she had just stumbled on something that was fundamentally a part of Rocco’s psyche. She could sense the wildness in him that he denied, and how much he hated not being in control of it; much the same thing scared her. But he really resented it. She only had to remember the icy-cool beauty of Honora Winthrop to know which he would ultimately prefer. Gracie was a mere indulgence in his dark side.

Gracie looked back at the placid surface of the water and felt Rocco’s crackling tension beside her. That placid surface seemed to mock her now. A flicker of rebellion at Rocco’s evident distaste of this lack of control came to life deep within her and she stepped back deliberately from the pool’s edge.

Rocco said hesitantly, ‘Gracie …?’

And then she ran and dived right in, barely breaking the surface, the flash of intense colour in her dress gliding away under the surface to the other end.

R
OCCO
stared after Gracie, shocked. The irritation and anger he’d felt sparking when she’d tried to articulate what was between them was fading. Something else was blooming inside him, along with remorse for lashing out just now. It was a feeling of euphoria. The kind of euphoria he’d felt only once before, when he’d seen horror and disbelief dawn in his father’s eyes at knowing that his worthless bastard son had surpassed even his own phenomenal wealth.

Gracie’s head broke the surface of the water at the other end of the pool at that moment. Her dress, magnified under the water in a cascade of different colours, rippled out around her body. She looked impossibly wild and free, like a sea nymph, her hair slicked back in a stain of dark red.

Rocco felt the first fat drops of monsoon rain fall as he bent and pulled off his shoes and socks.

He dived in expertly, crossing the length of the pool in half the time it had taken Gracie. He saw those slim pale legs, the dress billowing around them, and reached for her underwater and pulled her down. Her eyes were wide when Rocco pressed his mouth to hers.

When they broke the surface of the water together, a few long seconds later, Gracie tore her mouth away and sucked in deep breaths. The rain was torrential now, and
she tipped back her head and laughed out loud. Her arms were tight around Rocco’s neck and his hands were on her waist.

She looked at him, giddy from the shock of diving into the pool and then seeing him do the same. ‘The rain
is
warm!’

‘Why do you believe nothing I say?’ he growled, and kissed her again.

Gracie pushed away the dart of hurt at the thought it was more apt for her to say that to him, and gave up and lost herself in the kiss. She didn’t want to think about what had just passed between them moments before. She didn’t want to think about what it meant to lose control like this with Rocco. She just wanted to give herself up to it.

When Rocco backed her against the wall of the pool and started to peel down the stretchy material of the dress she trembled with anticipation. Even though the rain was as warm as the pool, goosebumps came up on her skin.

He pulled her dress down her arms and all the way to her waist, so that her breasts were bared, nipples tight. As he bent his head to pay homage to those peaks Gracie had to breathe in deep at the sight of Rocco, in a shirt which was now completely see-through and plastered to his strong back. His dark skin shone through in patches. Hair slicked back against his skull.

His mouth was relentless. Gracie leant back against the wall, the rain coming down into her face. The sensuality of the weather and the moment was intoxicating. The sounds of the busy city drifted up from the streets far, far below. Gracie put her arms out along the wall of the pool and arched into Rocco even more. She felt him yank the dress down over her hips and off. She could see it drift off along the floor of the pool like a puddle of bright colours.

His hand was in her panties now, his palm putting pressure
on her clitoris, and one long finger delved through her secret folds, seeking where her body was already clenching in anticipation. Gracie’s lower body thrust against him, silently urging him on as she lifted her hands to reach for his shirt, ripping it open in her haste. He released his hand and arms to let her yank it off, and then he pulled her panties down her legs.

Gracie was now completely naked, while Rocco still wore his trousers. His hand was between her legs again and his mouth on her breast. Warm rain drenched them, and the pool water lapped around them with increasing intensity.

‘Rocco,’ she said brokenly, when he slid two fingers inside her, stroking back and forth. ‘I need more. I need you.’

He pulled his head back, fingers stilling. Eyes dazed, cheeks flushed. His fingers were deep inside Gracie, he could feel the wet clamp of her body, and his own ache became urgent. With a swift move he’d lifted her out of the pool to sit on the ledge. Then he pulled himself out with the minimum of effort.

He gently lifted her up into his arms and laid her down on a nearby sunbed. Pressing a swift kiss to her mouth, he muttered something about protection and disappeared for a second, only to return just as swiftly. Gracie took in the stark planes of his face. The glitter in his eyes. He put the foil-wrapped protection between his teeth for a moment as he jerkily yanked off of his soaked trousers and briefs. Ripping open the package, he smoothed the sheath onto his erection and came back to Gracie.

She felt as if she’d become one with the elements. Rocco came between her legs and said gutturally, ‘I want to taste you so badly, but I need this more …’

‘What do you—?
Ohhhh …
’ Gracie moaned when she
felt him thrust into her. She gave up all attempts to speak or think and wrapped her legs around his waist, locking her feet behind him, urging him deeper and deeper, until they both splintered apart under the stormy clouds and driving rain.

They lay for a long time like that, with Rocco still deep within her. Little aftershocks made her tremble uncontrollably every few seconds. Eventually Rocco moved, coming up on his arms. He disengaged himself and Gracie winced slightly because she was sensitive.

He pressed a kiss to her mouth. ‘I hurt you …’

She shook her head. ‘No. You didn’t hurt me.’ Her conscience pricked at that—perhaps not physically but emotionally … she didn’t want to go there.

Rocco got up and disappeared for a moment, and then came back. He held out a fluffy robe for Gracie, who took it gratefully and sat up to put it on. Rocco had tied a towel around his waist and looked down at her.

‘I’m going to take a shower, join me?’

Gracie shook her head even as her traitorous mind was screaming
yes!
She needed space for a moment. ‘I think I might sit out here for a bit.’

He shrugged. ‘As you wish,’ he said, and went inside. Gracie couldn’t stop her eyes greedily devouring his lean form as he went. When he’d disappeared she sighed and pulled the robe tight around her, drawing her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around herself. The rain had stopped and the clouds had moved off. Stars were twinkling again. The humid air was sucking up all the excess moisture. It was as if the storm had materialised just to accompany that mad passion, and now that it was over the storm was too.

She saw the detritus of what had just happened around them. The colourful shimmer of her dress at the bottom of
the pool. Her coral-coloured panties floating on the surface of the water along with Rocco’s shirt. His trousers and briefs strewn on the ground. She groaned and dropped her head to her knees. One minute she’d been standing there, telling him she didn’t normally do this, and within seconds she’d been ripping his shirt off like a woman possessed.

He was right. It was
insane.
She didn’t doubt that with his other women—his usual women—he was a lot more civilised and restrained. None of this messy passion.

No wonder he resented it.

She’d seen the look on his face just before he’d jumped into the pool, as if he were battling with something inside himself.

Gracie felt a yearning welling up inside her. She didn’t want Rocco to resent this—or
her.
She wanted a chance to make him change his mind about her properly, not just this tenuous sliver of trust that could break at any moment. She wanted to persuade him that she and her brother
weren’t
just some opportunists who came from a dubious background.

She heard a noise and looked up to see him re-emerging from the suite. He had a fresh towel wrapped around his waist and was rubbing at his hair with another towel. Gracie felt exposed all over again, as if he might read that awful yearning on her face.

Brightly she asked, ‘Nice shower?’

He nodded, and then smiled wickedly. ‘Would have been nicer with you in it.’

He came and sat down on the lounger next to hers and his clean scent washed over her, making her belly tighten with a shaft of need. Inexplicably Gracie felt dirty all of a sudden, when she recalled their explosion of passion.

She glanced away, feeling prickly. ‘I like it out here.’

His voice was wry. ‘You can’t stay out here all night.’

She shrugged minutely. ‘To be honest, the suite … the hotel … it’s all a bit intimidating. I feel like I’m tainting it with my presence.’

Rocco went still. ‘That’s crazy … what are you talking about?’

She glanced at him. and then away again when she saw him frowning. ‘It’s like I’m not meant to be here. When I was about nine one of our foster parents took Steven and I to a stately home.’ Gracie smiled and said self-consciously, ‘She was one of the good ones … It was a grand old house. We had to get the train from London. It had these huge rooms—so beautiful, full of antiques and paintings. After a while I got lost. The group had gone on and I couldn’t find them. I wandered into a room full of tiny porcelain dolls.’

Gracie grimaced a little, remembering.

‘Obviously the people who owned the house had some kind of collection. I was fascinated, and picked one up to look at. Suddenly I felt a hand on my shoulder and I got such a fright I dropped it and it smashed on the ground. This woman was standing over me, shrieking about how I was a common little thief and to get out.’ She shivered at the memory. ‘I was so terrified I ran and ran, and finally found the group. I kept expecting to feel that hand on my shoulder again.’

Gracie felt embarrassed. Why on earth had she even started telling this story? But Rocco just looked at her, his face obscured in the dark.

She shrugged again, properly embarrassed now. ‘Earlier, when we came in, and at the function too, I felt as if a hand was going to land on my shoulder at any moment and someone would ask how I’d got in.’

A little roughly, Rocco said, ‘You have as much a right to be in these places as anyone else.’

Gracie half smiled. ‘Well, I don’t really. But it’s nice of you to say.’

Rocco stood up then, with a hand outstretched, as if to leave and take her with him. Gracie stood up too, about to take his hand, but then she stopped. His closed-off expression made something rise up within her—a desperate need for him to understand, and
see.

‘Wait. I want to tell you something else.’

He dropped his hand, his jaw clenched. ‘Gracie, you don’t need to tell me these stories.’

His clear reluctance galvanised her. ‘They’re not
stories
—and, yes, I do need to tell you.’ She continued before he could protest. ‘Steven … my brother … we’re twins.’ Her mouth twisted. ‘Non-identical obviously. I’m older by twenty minutes—he nearly died when he was born. When we were small he was puny and had big thick glasses. I got used to protecting him from bullies. He was never able to deal with things like I could. He never got over our mother leaving us …’

Gracie’s voice shook with passion.

‘He was too smart, too quiet. He was always a natural target. It might be hard to believe because of his actions, but he never wanted that life … to be in a gang, to get involved with drugs.’

‘So why did he, then?’ Rocco almost sneered.

Gracie flinched minutely but stood tall. Emotion constricted her voice. ‘They beat him down—literally. One day he got so badly beaten that he almost ended up in hospital. They broke him. It was easier to go along with what they wanted than to fight it. Even though I did my best to stop him. We were only fourteen. They had him hooked on alcohol within months. Drugs came soon after. He dropped out of school. Gave up.’

‘And yet you defend him even now?’

Again Rocco had that slightly sneering tone. Gracie looked at him, feeling a little disembodied. How could she even begin to explain the rich tapestry that bound her and her brother together?

She nodded slowly. ‘Yes, I defend him—and I would defend him for ever. Just like he defended me.’

Rocco frowned, impatience palpable in his lean form. ‘What do you mean? Defended you from what?’

Gracie knew her words were going nowhere, but she couldn’t stop now. ‘There was one foster home—it was miraculous, really, that we got to stay together all the time.’ She took a deep breath. ‘There was a man in this home. He used to look at me, and touch me when no one was around. Nothing serious at first—just a pat on the bottom or a pinch on my arm. But then one night he came into my room when his wife was away.’

Gracie could feel bile rising and forced it down.

‘He sat on my bed and started telling me what he wanted to do with me. Steven was in the room next to mine with another boy. I was on my own. I was so scared I couldn’t move or speak. Just when the man was about to get into bed beside me Steven came in. He didn’t say anything. He just waited for the man to get up and leave, and from that night until we left that house he slept in my bed, even as his own life was falling apart. He never left me alone. Not once.’

Rocco looked at Gracie’s pale face. Her words were like atom bombs detonating in his head and body. He wanted to rant and rage—throw the terrace furniture out over the balcony. He wanted to hug Gracie close and never let her go ever again. He trembled with it. Emotion was thick and acrid, gripping him by the throat. To think of that man touching her. And to think of her brother and what he’d been through. That he’d been beaten viciously enough to
give in to that awful wasted life. Even now Rocco could see her brother’s face, clear and burning with eagerness in his office, impressing him with his zeal because it had reminded him of his own hunger to succeed.

And yet her brother had still turned around and made a fool of Rocco’s gut instinct, had betrayed him.

Rocco had been through the same trials … worse. And he hadn’t given in—
never.
He clung to that assertion now, like a drowning man finding a piece of floating wood in a choppy ocean. He couldn’t touch Gracie right now. If he did he felt as if the emotions seething in his gut would overwhelm him completely and throw him straight back to where he’d come from, what he’d left behind all those years before.

With a huge effort Rocco thrust down the thick, cloying emotion and stepped back from Gracie and those huge eyes.