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CHAPTER NINE

MARCO COULD NOT remember a time when he’d enjoyed himself more. He and Sierra wandered around the airy galleries of the MoMA and, at some point while looking at the vast canvases and modern sculpture, he took her hand.

It felt so natural that he didn’t even think about it first, just slid his hand into hers and let their fingers entwine. She didn’t resist, and they spent the rest of the afternoon remarking on and joking about Klimt’s use of colour and Picasso’s intriguing angular forms.

‘I’m not an expert, by any means,’ Marco told her when they wandered out into the sunshine again. It was August and New York simmered under a summer sun, heat radiating from the pavement. ‘I just like the possibility in modern art. That people dared to do things differently, to see the world another way.’

‘Yes, I can understand that.’ She slid him a look of smiling compassion. ‘Especially considering your background.’

Marco tensed instinctively but Sierra was still holding his hand, and he forced himself to relax. She knew more about him than anyone else did, even Arturo, who had been as good as a father. Arturo had known about his background a little; he’d raised him up from being a bellboy and, in any case, Marco knew his accent gave him away as a Sicilian street rat. But Arturo had never known about his father. He’d never asked.

‘Where to now?’ Sierra asked and Marco shrugged.

‘Wherever you like. Are you getting tired?’

‘No. I don’t know how anyone can get tired here. There’s so much energy and excitement. I’m not sure I’ll ever get to sleep tonight.’ Her innocent words held no innuendo but Marco felt the hard kick of desire anyway. She looked so lovely and fresh, wearing a floaty summery dress with her hair caught in a loose plait, her face flushed and her eyes bright. He wanted to draw her towards him and kiss her, but he resisted.

That wasn’t the purpose of this trip...except now maybe it was. At least, why shouldn’t it be? If they were both feeling it?

‘I’d love to walk through Central Park,’ Sierra said and Marco forced his thoughts back to the conversation at hand.

‘Then let’s do it.’

They walked uptown to the Grand Army Plaza, buying ice creams to cool off as they strolled along the esplanade. Sierra stopped in front of a young busker by the Central Park Zoo, playing a lovely rendition of a Mozart concerto. She fumbled in her pockets to give him some money and Marco stopped her, taking a bill from his wallet instead.

‘Thank you,’ she murmured as they continued walking.

‘Why do you only play in private?’ Marco asked. He was curious to know more about her, to understand the enigma she’d been to him for so long.

Sierra pursed her lips, reflecting. ‘Because I did it for me. It was a way to...to escape, really. And I didn’t want anyone to ruin it for me, to stop me.’

‘Escape? What were you escaping from?’

Her gaze slid away from his and she licked a drip of ice cream from her thumb. ‘Oh, you know. The usual.’

Marco could tell she didn’t want to talk about it, and yet he found he wanted to know. Badly. He’d painted a rosy, perfect picture of her childhood; considering his own, how could he have not? She had two parents who adored her, a beautiful home, everything she could possibly want. He’d wanted to be part of that world, wanted to inhabit it with her. But now he wondered if his view of it had been a little too perfect.

‘But now that you’re an adult? You still play in private?’

She nodded. ‘I’ve never wanted to be a performer. I like teaching, but I play the violin for me.’ She spoke firmly and he wondered if she would ever play for him. He thought that if she did it would mean something—to both of them.

And did he want it to mean something? Did he want to become emotionally close to Sierra, never mind what happened between them physically?

It was a question he didn’t feel like answering or examining, not on a beautiful summer’s day with the park stretched out before them, and everything feeling like a promise about to be made. He took Sierra’s hand again and they walked up towards the Fountain of Bethesda, the still waters of the lake beyond shimmering under the sun.

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.’