by Kate Hewitt
By early evening Marco could tell Sierra was starting to flag. He was, too, and although he wanted to spend the entire day with Sierra, he knew there was pressing business to attend to before tomorrow’s opening. He took a call as they entered the hotel, flashing a quick apologetic smile at Sierra. She smiled back, understanding, and disappeared into her room in the penthouse suite while Marco stretched out on a sofa and dealt with a variety of issues related to the opening.
He loosened his collar and leaned his head back against the sofa as one of his staff droned on about the guest list for tomorrow night’s gala. From upstairs he could hear Sierra moving around and then the sound of a shower being turned on. He pictured her in the luxurious glass cubicle, big enough for two, water streaming down her golden body, and his whole body tightened in desperate arousal.
‘Mr Ferranti?’ The woman on the other end of the line must have been speaking for a while and Marco hadn’t heard a word.
‘I’m sorry. Can you say that again?’
A short while later Sierra came downstairs, dressed in a T-shirt and snug yoga pants, her hair falling in damp tendrils around her face.
Marco took one look at her and ended his call. His mouth dried and his heart turned over in his chest. She was utterly delectable, and not just because of her beauty. He liked having her in his space, looking relaxed and comfortable, being part of his world. He liked it a lot.
‘You’ve finished your calls?’ she asked as she came towards him. She curled up on the other end of the long leather sofa, tucking her feet underneath her.
‘For the moment. There are a lot of details to sort out but first I think I want to eat.’ His eyes roved over her hungrily and a blush touched her cheeks. Marco smiled and gestured to the city lights sparkling in every direction. ‘The world is our oyster. What would you like to eat? We can order takeaway. Whatever you want.’
‘How about proper American food? Cheeseburgers and French fries?’
He laughed and pressed a few buttons on his phone. ‘And here I thought you’d be asking for lobster and caviar and champagne. Consider it done.’
* * *
Sierra watched as Marco put in their order for food. She felt jet-lagged and sleepy and relaxed, and she laid her head back against the sofa as Marco tossed his phone on the table and rose in one fluid movement.
‘I’m going to get changed. The food should be here in a few minutes.’
‘Okay.’ It felt incredibly pleasant, no, wonderful, to sit there and listen to him go upstairs. The snick of a door closing, and she could imagine his long, lean fingers unbuttoning his shirt, shrugging it off his broad shoulders. He was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. She remembered the feel of his body against hers, her breasts crushed against his chest...
A smile curved Sierra’s mouth and she closed her eyes, picturing the scene perfectly. Then she imagined going up those stairs herself, opening that door. What would she say? What would she do? Perhaps she wouldn’t have to do or say anything. Perhaps Marco would see her and take control, draw her towards him and kiss her as she wanted him to.
‘I think the food’s here.’
Sierra’s eyes flew open and she saw Marco standing in front of her, wearing jeans and a faded grey T-shirt that clung to his pecs. His hair was slightly mussed, his jaw shadowed with stubble, and she didn’t think she’d ever seen anything as wonderful, as desirable.
‘You look like you were about to drop off,’ Marco remarked as he took the food from the attendant who stepped out of the lift.
‘I think I was.’ She wasn’t about to admit what had been going through her head. The mouth-watering aroma of cheeseburgers and fries wafted through the room and Marco brought the tray of food to the coffee table in front of the sofa.
‘We might as well eat here.’
He handed her a plate heaped with a huge burger and plenty of fries and Sierra bit in, closing her eyes as the flavours hit her. ‘Oh, this is good.’
Marco made a choked sound and Sierra opened her eyes, her heart seeming to still as his hot gaze held hers. ‘Look like that much longer and I’ll have to forget about this meal,’ he said, his voice a low growl, and awareness shivered through her.
‘It’s too delicious to do that,’ she protested, her voice breathy, and Marco shrugged, his gaze never leaving hers.
‘I can think of something more delicious.’
Colour flooded her face and heated her body. This was so dangerous, and yet...why shouldn’t she? Why shouldn’t they? They were in a glamorous hotel in one of the most amazing cities in the world. There was nothing, absolutely nothing, to keep them from acting on the desire Sierra knew they both felt.
Marco plucked one of her French fries from her plate. ‘Your face is the colour of your ketchup.’
She laughed shakily and put her burger down, wiping her hands on the napkin provided. ‘Marco...’ She trailed off, not knowing what to say or how to say it.
Marco smiled and nodded towards her still full plate. ‘Let’s eat, Sierra. It’s a big day tomorrow.’
That sounded and felt like a brush-off. Trying not to feel stung, Sierra started eating again. Had Marco changed his mind? Why did he say one thing and then do another? Maybe, Sierra reflected, he felt as conflicted as she did. Maybe a fling would be too complicated, considering their history.
Considering her lack of experience, she didn’t even know if she could handle a fling. Would she be able to walk away after a couple of days, heart intact? The truth was, she had no idea.
Marco’s phone rang before they’d finished their meal and he excused himself to take the call. Sierra ate the rest of her burger and then tidied up, leaving the tray of dirty dishes by the lift. She wandered around the living area for a bit, staring out at the glittering cityscape, before jet lag finally overcame her and she headed upstairs to bed. Marco was still closeted in his own bedroom and so, with a sigh of disappointment, Sierra went into hers. Despite her restlessness, sleep claimed her almost instantly.
When she woke the sun was bathing the city in gold and she could hear Marco moving around across the hall.
The ribbon-cutting ceremony was that afternoon, and it occurred to Sierra as she showered and dressed that she really didn’t have the right clothes.
Back in London, her one smart day dress and second-hand ball gown had seemed sufficient but now that she’d been to the hotel, now that she cared about it—and Marco’s success—she realised she didn’t want to stand in front of the crowd looking dowdy or underdressed. She wanted to look her best, not just for Marco and the public but for herself.
She dressed in jeans and a simple summery top and headed downstairs in search of Marco. He was standing by the window, scrolling through messages on his phone and drinking coffee, but he looked up as she came down the stairs, a smile breaking across his face.
‘Good morning.’
‘Good morning.’ Suddenly Sierra felt shy. Marco looked amazing, freshly showered, his crisp blue shirt set off by a darker blue suit and silver tie. His hair was slightly damp, curling around his ears, and his smoothly shaven jaw looked eminently touchable. Kissable.
‘Did you sleep well?’
‘Yes, amazingly. But I wondered if there was time to go out this morning, before the opening.’
‘Go out? Where?’
‘Shopping.’ Sierra flushed. ‘I don’t think the clothes I brought are...well, nice enough, if I’m honest.’ She let out an uncertain laugh. ‘A second-hand ball gown from a charity shop doesn’t seem appropriate, now that I’m here.’
Surprise flashed across Marco’s face before it was replaced by composed determination. ‘Of course. I’ll arrange a car immediately.’
‘I can walk...’
‘Nonsense. It will be my great pleasure to buy clothes for you, Sierra.’ His gaze rested on her, his
silvery-grey eyes seeming to burn right through her.
‘You don’t have to buy them, Marco—’
‘You would deny me such a pleasure?’ He slid his phone into his pocket and strode towards her. ‘The car will be waiting. You can have breakfast on the way.’
Within minutes Sierra was whisked from the penthouse suite to the limo waiting outside the hotel; a carafe of coffee, another of freshly squeezed orange juice and a basket of warm croissants were already set out for her.
‘Good grief.’ She shook her head, laughing, as Marco slid into the seat next to her. ‘This is kind of crazy, you know.’
‘Crazy? Why?’
‘The luxury. I’m not used to it.’
‘You should get used to it, then. This is the life you would have had, Sierra. The life you deserve.’
She paused, a croissant halfway to her mouth, and met his gaze. ‘The life I would have had? You mean if I’d married you?’ She spoke softly, hesitant to dredge up the past once again and yet needing to know. Did Marco wish things had been different? Did she?
‘If you’d married anyone,’ Marco said after a pause. ‘Someone of your father’s choosing, of your family’s station.’
‘You think I should have married someone of my father’s choosing?’
‘I think you should have married me.’
Her insides jolted so hard she felt as if she’d missed the last step in a staircase. ‘Even now?’ she whispered.
Marco glanced away. ‘Who can say what would have happened, how things would have been? The reality is you chose not to, and we’ve both become different people as a result.’
But people who could find their way back to each other. The words hovered on her lips but Sierra didn’t say them. What were they really talking about here? A fling, a relationship, or just what might have been? She didn’t know what she felt or wanted
‘Ah, here we are,’ Marco said, and Sierra turned to see the limo pull up to an exclusive-looking boutique on Fifth Avenue. She stuffed the rest of her croissant into her mouth as he jumped out of the limo. She swallowed quickly and then took his hand as he led her out of the car and into the boutique.
Several assistants came towards them quickly and Sierra glanced around at the crystal chandeliers, the white velvet sofas, the marble floor. There seemed to be very few pieces of clothing on display. And she felt underdressed to go shopping, which seemed ridiculous, but she could not deny the svelte blonde assistants were making her feel dowdy.
But then Marco turned to her, his eyes lit up as his warm, approving gaze rested on her. ‘And now,’ he said, tugging her towards him, ‘the fun begins.’
CHAPTER TEN
MARCO STRETCHED OUT on the sofa, handling business calls while Sierra tried on outfit after outfit, shyly pirouetting in front of him in each one. He couldn’t think of a better way to spend his time than watch Sierra model clothes. Actually, he could. He’d like to spend his time taking the clothes off her.
She’d started with modest day outfits, but even tailored skirts and crisp blouses sent his heart rate skyrocketing. He wanted to slip those pearl buttons from their holes and part the silky fabric to see the even silkier skin beneath. He wanted to shimmy that pencil skirt off her slim hips.
Instead he issued a terse command to the fawning assistant. ‘We’ll take them all.’
Sierra was in the dressing room and didn’t hear him; a few minutes later she came out, frowning uncertainly. ‘I think maybe that blue shift dress might be the best choice...’
‘You can decide later,’ Marco answered indulgently. It amused him that Sierra thought he was going to be satisfied by simply buying her a single outfit. What kind of man did she think he was?
A man who was falling in love with her.
The words froze inside him, turned everything to ice. He couldn’t be falling in love. He didn’t do love. He’d seen what it had done to his mother. He’d felt what it had done to him. Waiting for someone who wasn’t going to come back, who didn’t feel the same way. His mother. Sierra. And he hadn’t even loved Sierra, back then. Did he want to set himself up for an even harder fall?
No, he was not falling in love with her. He was just enjoying himself. And yes, he might be thinking about what might have been; it was damned hard not to. Seeing Sierra in her element, where she belonged, every inch the Rocci heiress, her desire shining in her eyes...how could he not think about it?
‘What do you think about this one?’ Sierra emerged from the dressing room in an evening gown, a blush touching her cheeks. Marco stared at her, his whole body going rigid. The dress was a long, elegant column of grey-blue silk that matched her eyes perfectly. A diamanté belt encircled her narrow waist, and her hair was loose and tousled about her shoulders.
Marco couldn’t even think when he saw her in that dress. ‘We’ll take it.’ He bit the words out gruffly, and Sierra’s eyes widened.
‘But if you don’t like it...’
‘I like it.’ From the corner of his eye Marco saw an assistant smile behind her hand. ‘Please go wrap up the other outfits,’ he barked and she melted back into the boutique, leaving them alone.
‘The other outfits?’ Sierra frowned. ‘But I thought you were just buying the blue dress.’
‘You thought wrong.’ He stalked towards her and to his satisfaction he could see a pulse begin to hammer in her throat. ‘I’m buying them all, Sierra. I want to see you in them all.’
She pressed a hand to her fluttering pulse as she swallowed convulsively. ‘There are a few more evening gowns to try on...’
‘And I want you to try them on. But I think I’d better help you with the zipper on that dress.’
Her eyes had gone huge, as blue and glassy as twin mountain lakes. Her pink lips parted, and when her tongue darted out to moisten them, Marco groaned.
‘The assistant...’ she murmured and he shook his head, everything in him demanding that he touch her. Now.
‘Is gone. I’ll do it.’ Gently but purposefully, he pushed her back into the dressing room, drawing the thick brocade curtain closed behind them. The space was private, the silence hushed and expectant. After a second when she just stared at him, Sierra turned and offered him her back.
Marco moved the heavy, honeyed mass of her hair, revelling in the softness of it as it slipped through his fingers. With the nape of her neck bare he couldn’t keep from kissing her. He brushed his lips against the tender skin and felt her whole body shudder in response.
She swayed against him silently and he put his hands on her shoulders to steady her. Desire raged through him, a fierce and overwhelming need that obliterated all rational thought. He’d take her right in this dressing room if she’d let him, but he didn’t want their first time together to be urgent and rushed. No, he’d take his time, prolong the exquisite agony.
Slowly Marco drew the zip down the dress, the snick of the fabric parting one of the most erotic sounds he’d ever heard.
The strapless dress slipped from her body, leaving her bare, her skin golden and perfect. He slid his hands around her waist, spanning it easily, and then, because he couldn’t keep himself from it, he slid them up to cup her breasts, his thumbs flicking over her nipples, his hands full of her lush softness.
Sierra sagged against him, her breath coming out in a shudder. Marco pushed into her, and she gasped again at the feel of his arousal against her bottom.
When she pushed back gently, her hips nudging him with intent, he almost abandoned his resolution to take his time. It would be so easy, so overwhelmingly satisfying, to pull her dress up and bury himself inside her right then and there.
He slid his hands back down to her hips, anchoring her against him, pushing into her and having her push back, their bodies moving in an ancient rhythm. Sierra’s breath caught on a gasp and her whole body went tense.
Marco knew she was close to climaxing, just from this. Hell, so was he.
‘Mr Ferranti?’ The musical trill of the assistant’s voice caused reality to rush in. Sierra stiffened and reluctantly Marco eased back.
‘We’re not finished here,’ he told her in a low voice.
Sierra let out a laugh that sounded close to a sob. ‘Dear heaven, I hope not.’
He smiled as he kissed the nape of her neck once more and then slipped from the dressing room to deal with the ill-timed assistant.
* * *
As soon as Marco had gone Sierra sank onto one of the padded benches, the dress pooling around her waist, her head in her hands. Her whole body trembled with the aftershocks of his touch. She’d been so close to losing control, and simply by the feel of his body pressing into hers. And as amazed and mortified as she felt that she’d been so shameless in a public dressing room, the overwhelming feeling she had now was a desire to rush out of this shop, jump in a limo and race back to the hotel where Marco could make good on his promise.
We’re not finished.
Not, Sierra hoped, by a long shot.
‘Sierra?’ Marco called, his voice sounding crisply professional and not as if he were remotely affected by what had just happened between them. ‘We should be getting on. You’ll need to leave some time to get ready and I have a few things to finish before the opening.’
‘Of course.’ Hurriedly, she slithered out of the evening gown. ‘Let me just get dressed.’ She yanked on her jeans and pulled her T-shirt over her head, finger-combing her tousled hair as she slipped from the dressing room, her body still weak and trembling from their encounter. Marco, of course, looked completely unruffled. Maybe this was a normal experience for him. ‘What about the evening gown...?’ she asked, glad her voice came out sounding even.