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.
‘We’re taking them all,’ Marco informed her blithely. ‘The assistant will have them wrapped and sent to the hotel. It’s all taken care of.’
‘Taking all of the evening gowns? But I didn’t even try them on.’
‘I’m sure you’ll look fabulous in them. And if you don’t like any of them, I’ll arrange for them to be returned.’ Marco took her elbow. ‘Now, the limo is waiting.’
Sierra let herself be ushered out of the store, amazed by the whole experience, from the sheer number of clothes Marco had bought her to the exciting interlude in the dressing room.
‘You make everything seem so easy,’ she commented as she slid into the limo. ‘Like the world is at your fingertips, or even your feet.’
Marco gave her a quick smile as he checked his phone. ‘I’ve worked hard to have it be so.’
‘I know you have. But do you ever...do you ever feel like pinching yourself, that this is your reality?’
For a second Marco’s gaze became distant, shuttered. Then he turned back to his phone. ‘Money doesn’t buy everything,’ he said, his voice clipped. ‘No matter how many people think so, it can’t make you happy.’
The honest statement, delivered as it was so matter-of-factly, both surprised and moved her. ‘Are you happy, Marco?’
He glanced up with a wolfish grin. ‘I was very happy with you in the dressing room. And I intend to be even happier before the day is done.’
She felt a flush spread across her body as her insides tingled. She knew Marco was deliberately avoiding a serious conversation, but she wanted him too much to care. ‘I hope you do mean that.’
He paused, lowering his phone. ‘I do mean it, Sierra. I want you very badly. So badly I almost lost control in a dressing room, which is something I’ve never done before.’
‘You haven’t?’ she teased, trying to ignore the jealousy that spiked through her. ‘I imagine you’ve got quite a lot of experience under your belt.’
‘Not as much as you probably think, but I know my way around.’ Her face heated even more and she looked away. Yes, he most certainly did. ‘What about you?’ he asked abruptly. ‘You must have had lovers over the last seven years.’ She opened her mouth to admit the truth but before she could he held up a hand. ‘Never mind. I don’t want to know.’ His face had hardened into implacable lines, and his eyes blazed. ‘But make no mistake, Sierra. I want you. Tonight.’
‘I want you, too,’ she whispered.
His gaze swept over her, searching, assessing. ‘We’re not who we were seven years ago. Things are different now.’
‘I know.’ She lifted her chin and met his gaze directly. ‘I know what this is, Marco. We’re in an amazing city for a short period of time and we happen to be attracted to each other. Very attracted. So why shouldn’t we act on it?’ She smiled, raising her eyebrows, making it sound so simple. As if she had had this kind of experience before. ‘It’s a fling.’
‘Yes,’ Marco said slowly. ‘That’s exactly what it is.’
Back in the hotel, Marco disappeared into the office to deal with some business before the opening while Sierra headed upstairs to the penthouse. The elegant lobby was bustling with staff as they prepared for the champagne and chocolate reception that would immediately follow the opening. And then, tonight, the ball...
Staff hurried and worked around her as she walked towards the private penthouse lift. One middle-aged man caught her eye and executed a stiff bow. ‘Good afternoon, Miss Rocci. I hope you find everything to your satisfaction.’
‘Yes, yes, of course,’ Sierra nearly stammered. She was shaken by the way the man knew her, knew she was a Rocci. She hadn’t truly been a Rocci in seven years. She’d turned her back on it all, and in that moment the memories came back in a sickening rush—the hotel openings so different from the modern elegance of The Rocci New York and yet so frighteningly familiar.
‘Miss Rocci? Are you all right?’ The man who had spoken to her before touched her elbow cautiously and Sierra realised she must have looked unwell. She felt sick and faint, and she reached out a hand to the lift door to steady herself.
‘I’m fine. Thank you. I just haven’t eaten today.’
‘I’ll have something sent up to your room.’
‘Thank you,’ Sierra murmured. ‘I appreciate it.’
The lift doors opened and she stepped inside, grateful for the privacy. For a few seconds she’d heard her father’s voice, felt his hand pinch her in warning as they mounted the steps of one hotel or another.
Be a good girl, Sierra. Smile for everyone.
She could hear the implied threat in his voice, the promise of punishment if she didn’t behave, all against the background of a crowd’s expectant murmurings, the clink of crystal...
The lift doors opened and Sierra stumbled out into the penthouse’s living area, the city stretching all around her, one hand clamped to her mouth. She swallowed down the bile and then hurried upstairs to the freestanding kitchen units and poured herself a glass of water. Dear heaven, she couldn’t fall apart now. Not when the opening was about to start, everyone was waiting for her. Marco was depending on her.
Sierra closed her eyes, memory and regret and fear coursing through her in unrelenting waves. She didn’t want to let Marco down. How much had changed in such a short time—six weeks ago she’d been hoping never to see him again.
And now...now she was hoping he’d make love to her tonight. She wanted to stand by his side at the opening and make him proud. She was halfway to falling in love with him.
Sierra’s eyes snapped open. What? How could she be? She’d always avoided and disdained love, seen how her mother had prostrated herself at its altar and lost her soul. And now she was poised to fall in love with a man she still didn’t entirely trust? Or maybe it was herself she didn’t trust. She didn’t trust herself to keep her head straight and her heart safe.
She was inexperienced when it came to romance or sex, and here she was, contemplating a fling? For a second Sierra wondered what on earth she was doing. And then she remembered the feel of Marco’s hands on her, his body behind her, and a shiver of sheer longing went through her. She knew what she was doing—and she needed to do it.
And as for the opening... She glanced at the clock above the sink and saw with a lurch of alarm that the opening was in less than an hour. An hour until she had to face Marco and the crowds of people who would