Inherited by Ferranti

by Kate Hewitt

  Better to make a quick, clean cut. She’d told herself that yesterday and yet here she was. She was more like her mother than she’d ever wanted to be. Filled with regret and uncertainty, Sierra closed her eyes.

  She almost didn’t hear the gentle tapping at the bathroom door. She opened her eyes, alert, and then heard Marco call softly, ‘Sierra? May I come in?’

  She glanced down at her naked body, covered by bubbles. Everything in her seemed to both hesitate and yearn.

  ‘All right,’ she said.

  Slowly the door opened. Marco stepped inside the steamy bathroom; he’d changed his business suit for faded jeans and a black T-shirt that clung to his chest. His hair was rumpled, his jaw shadowed with stubble, his eyes dark and serious.

  ‘I haven’t known what to say to you.’

  Sierra gazed at him with wide eyes. She felt intensely vulnerable lying naked in the bath, and yet she recognised that Marco had come in here for a reason. An important reason. ‘I haven’t known what to say, either.’

  ‘I wish I had the right words.’

  ‘So do I,’ she whispered.

  Slowly Marco came towards her. Sierra watched him, her breath held, her heart beating hard. ‘May I help you wash?’ he asked and she stared at him, paralysed by indecision and longing. Finally, wordlessly, she nodded.

  She watched as Marco reached for the bar of expensive soap the hotel provided and lathered his hands. He motioned for her to lean forward and after a moment she did and he began to soap her back. His touch was gentle, almost hesitant, and it felt loving. It also felt incredibly intimate, even more so than the things they’d done together in bed. Yet there was nothing overtly sexual about his touch as he slid his hands up and down her back. It felt almost as if he were offering some kind of penance, asking for absolution. Almost as if this act was as intimate and revealing for him as it was for her.

  She let out a shuddering breath as he pressed a kiss to the back of her neck. Desire, like liquid fire, spread through her as he kissed his way down the knobs of her spine.

  ‘Marco...’

  ‘Let me make love to you, Sierra.’

  She nodded her assent and in one easy movement he scooped her up from the tub and, cradling her in his arms, he brought her back to the master bedroom. Sierra gazed up at him with huge eyes as he laid her down on the bed and then stripped his clothes from his body.

  She held her arms out and he went to her, covering her body with his own, kissing her with a raw urgency she hadn’t felt from him before. And she responded in kind, kiss for kiss, touch for touch, both of them rushed and desperate for each other, until Marco finally sank inside her, buried deep, her name a sob in his throat as they climaxed together.

  Afterwards they lay quietly as their heart rates returned to normal and honeyed sunlight filtered through the curtains.

  She would miss this, Sierra thought, when it was over. And despite the tenderness Marco had just shown her, despite the fierce pleasure of their lovemaking, she knew it would be over soon. She felt it in the way Marco had already withdrawn back into the shuttered privacy of his thoughts, his eyebrows drawn together as he stared up at the ceiling. She had no idea what he was thinking or feeling. Moments ago he’d been the most loving, gentle man she could have imagined, and now?

  She sighed and stirred from the bed. ‘I should dress.’

  He barely glanced at her as he reached for his clothes. ‘We can order room service if you like.’

  ‘I’d rather go out.’ She wanted to escape the oppressive silence that had plagued them both since last night.

  ‘Very well,’ Marco answered, and he didn’t look at her as he started to dress.

  An hour later they were seated at an upmarket seafood restaurant off Rodeo Drive. Sierra perused the extensive and exotic menu while Marco frowned down at the wine list.

  ‘So what business do you have to do here exactly?’ she asked after they’d both ordered.

  ‘I’m meeting with the real estate developers to agree on the site for the new hotel.’

  ‘Where is it?’

  ‘Not far from here. A vacant lot off Wilshire Boulevard.’ He drummed his fingers on the table, seeming almost impatient, and Sierra couldn’t help but feel nettled.

  ‘Sorry, am I wasting your time?’ she asked tartly and Marco turned to her, startled.

  ‘No, of course not.’

  ‘It’s just you seem like you can’t wait to get away.’

  ‘I seem...?’ Now he looked truly flummoxed. ‘No, of course not.’

  Sierra didn’t answer. Maybe the problem was with her, not with Marco. She could feel how his changing moods affected her, made her both worry and want to please him. Had her mother been like this, wondering if her husband would come home smiling or screaming? Bracing herself for a kiss or a kick?

  She couldn’t stand the see-sawing of emotions in herself, in Marco. The endless uncertainty. It had been better before, when she hadn’t cared so much. That was the problem, Sierra realised. She really was starting to love him. Maybe she already did.

  Cold fear clawed at her. So much for a fling. How had she let this happen? How had he slipped under her defences and reached her heart, despite everything? She’d never wanted love, never looked for it, and yet it had found her anyway.

  ‘Is something wrong?’

  Sierra jerked her gaze up to Marco’s narrowed one. ‘No...’

  ‘It’s just that you’re frowning.’

  ‘Sorry.’ She shook her head, managed a rather sick smile. ‘I’m just tired, I suppose.’

  Marco regarded her quietly, clearly unconvinced by her lie. ‘My business should only take a few days,’ he said. ‘I’ll be done by the day after tomorrow. Maybe then we could go somewhere. Palm Desert...’

  For a second Sierra imagined it: staying in a luxurious resort, days of being pampered and nights spent in Marco’s arms. And then, after a few days, what would happen? Maybe he would ask her to go with him to Palermo. Maybe there would be more shopping trips and fancy restaurants and gala events. But eventually he would tire of her tagging along with him, leaving her own life far behind, just as her mother had. And even if he didn’t tire of her, what would she be but a plaything, a pawn?

  And yet still she was tempted. This was what love did to you. It wrecked you completely, emotionally, physically—everything. It took and took and took and gave nothing back.

  Marco frowned as he noted her lack of response. ‘Sierra?’

  ‘How long would we go to Palm Desert for?’

  Marco shrugged. ‘I don’t know—a few days? I told you, I have to be back in Palermo next week.’

  ‘Right.’ And never mind what she had to do. Of course. Sierra took a deep breath. This felt like the hardest thing she’d ever said, and yet she knew it had to be done. ‘I don’t think so, Marco.’

  His mouth tightened and his eyes flashed. She knew he’d taken her meaning completely. Before he could respond the waiter came with their wine, a bottle of champagne that now seemed like a mockery, the loud sound of the cork popping a taunt.

  The waiter poured two flutes with a flourish, the fizz going right to the top. Marco took one of the flutes and raised it sardonically.

  ‘So what shall we toast?’

  Sierra could only shake her head. She felt swamped with misery, overwhelmed by it. She didn’t want things with Marco to end like this, and yet she didn’t know how else they could end. Any ending was bound to be brutal.

  ‘To nothing, then,’ Marco said, his voice hard and bitter, and drank.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  HE WAS LOSING HER, and he couldn’t even say he was surprised. This was what happened when you loved someone. They left.

  And he loved Sierra. Had loved her for a long time. And even though he’d been telling h
imself he would walk away, Marco knew he didn’t want to. Ever. He wanted to love Sierra, to go to sleep with her at night and wake up with her in the morning. To hold her in his arms, hold their child in his arms. To experience everything life had to offer, good and bad, with her.

  Marco put down his empty champagne flute, his insides churning with the realisation. He loved Sierra and she was slipping away from him every second.

  ‘I think perhaps I’m not hungry after all,’ she said quietly. Her face was pale, her fingers trembling as she placed the napkin on the table and rose from her seat.

  She was leaving him, in a public restaurant? The papers would have a field day. Quickly, Marco rose, taking her elbow as he steered her out of the restaurant.

  She jerked away from him the moment they were out on the street. ‘Don’t manhandle me.’

  ‘Manhandle?’ he repeated incredulously. ‘There were bound to be reporters in there, Sierra. Paparazzi. I was just trying to get us out of there without a scene.’

  She shook her head, rubbing her elbow as if he’d hurt her. He suddenly felt sick.

  ‘You think I’d hurt you? After everything?’

  ‘No,’ she said, but she didn’t sound convinced. She’d never trust him, Marco realised. Never mind love him. Not after everything that had happened with Arturo, and not with how close he’d been to the man. The memories ran too deep. No matter what either of them felt, they had no chance.

  ‘Let’s go back to the hotel,’ he said tersely and hailed a cab.

  Back at the penthouse suite, Sierra turned to face him. ‘I think I should leave,’ she said, voice wobbling and chin held high.

  ‘At least you had the decency to tell me this time,’ Marco answered before he could keep himself from it. He felt too emotionally raw to be measured or calm.

  Her face paled but she simply nodded and turned away. He sank onto a sofa, his head in his hands, as he listened to her start to pack.

  He told himself it was better this way. The past held too much power for them to ever have a real relationship, if that was even what Sierra wanted.

  But it was what he wanted. What he needed. Was he really going to let Sierra walk out of his life a second time?

  The force of his feelings felt like a hammer blow to his heart, leaving him breathless. He loved this woman, loved her too much to let her walk away. Again.

  But that was what people did. His father, his mother, Sierra. They’d all left him, slipped out without saying goodbye, leaving him with nothing to do but wait and grieve.

  But this time he had a choice. He had a chance to talk to Sierra honestly, to ask or even beg her to stay. He wouldn’t be proud. He loved her too much for that. The realisation sent adrenaline coursing through him and he rose from the sofa, pacing the room as panic roared through him. What if she said no? What if she still left?

  Sierra emerged from the bedroom, her face still pale, her suitcase clutched in one hand. ‘I can call for a taxi...’

  ‘Don’t.’ The word came out like a command, and far too aggressive. Sierra blinked, then set her jaw. She didn’t like him ordering her around, and he could understand that. He respected it, liked her—no, loved her—more for it.

  ‘Please,’ he burst out. ‘Sierra, I don’t want you to walk out of my life again.’

  She hesitated and he took the opportunity to walk towards her, take the suitcase from her unresisting hand. ‘Please listen to me for just a few minutes. And if you still want to leave after I’m done, I won’t stop you, I promise.’ His voice was hoarse, his heart beating painfully hard.

  Sierra nibbled her lip, her wide eyes searching his face, and then finally she nodded. ‘All right,’ she whispered.

  He led her over to the sofa and she sat down but he found he couldn’t. He had too much raw energy coursing through him for that. ‘I don’t want you to go,’ he said as he paced in front of her. ‘I don’t want you to go today or tomorrow or the day after that.’ The words burst from him, a confession that hurt even though he knew he needed to make it. For once in his life he was fighting for what he wanted, who he loved, and even in this moment of intense vulnerability it made him feel powerful. Strong. Love made him strong. ‘I don’t want you to go ever, Sierra.’

  ‘It hasn’t been working, Marco.’ Her voice was soft and sad. ‘There’s too much history...’

  ‘I know there is, but we’re giving the past too much power.’ He dropped to his knees in front of her and took her cold hands in his. ‘I love you, Sierra. I only realised how much when you were about to walk out that door. I’ve been a fool and an ass and whatever other name you want to throw at me. I deserve it. When you told me about your father, I didn’t know how to handle it. I felt guilty and hurt and betrayed all at once, and I was afraid you’d always associate me with him, you’d never be able to trust or love me. And maybe you won’t but I want to try. I want to try with you. Not just a fling, but something real. A relationship. Marriage, children—the fairy tale if we can both believe in it.’

  Tears sparkled in her eyes and she clung to his hands. ‘I don’t know if I can. My mother loved my father and look what it did to her. It killed her in the end, maybe not literally, but she was never the person she could have been. She was like a shadow, a ghost—’

  ‘That wasn’t love. Love builds up, not breaks down. I have to believe that. I want the best for you, Sierra—’

  ‘To follow you around from one Rocci hotel to another?’ she burst out. ‘I don’t want to live in your shadow, Marco.’

  ‘And you don’t have to. We can make this work. I realise your life in London is important. I won’t ask you to drop it to follow me around. I want you to be happy, Sierra, but I want you to be happy with me. If you think you can.’ He held his breath, waiting for her answer.

  ‘I want to be,’ she finally said, her voice hesitant.

  ‘I know I’ve made a lot of mistakes. I’ve let the past affect me more than I wanted it to. Not just your leaving, but my father’s. And...’ He paused because this was something he’d never told another person ‘...my mother.’

  Sierra frowned. ‘Your mother?’

  ‘She left when I was ten,’ Marco admitted quietly. ‘After my father walked out she tried to hold things together, but it was tough as a single mother in a conservative country. She ended up taking me to an orphanage in Palermo, run by monks. She said she’d come back for me, but she never did.’

  Tears filled Sierra’s eyes. ‘Oh, Marco...’

  ‘I stayed until I was sixteen, and then I got the job at The Rocci. I tried never to look back, but I’ve realised I was looking back all the time, letting the past affect me. Control me. That’s why I took your leaving before so badly. Why I’ve been afraid to love anyone.’

  She bit her lip, a single tear sliding down her cheek, devastating him. ‘I’ve been afraid, too.’

  Gently, Marco wiped the tear from her cheek. ‘Then let’s be afraid together. I know it might be hard and there will be arguments and fears and all the rest of it. But we can find the fairy tale, Sierra. Together. I believe that. I have to believe that.’

  Sierra gazed at him, her eyes filled with tears and yet also a dawning wonder, a fragile hope. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I believe that, too.’ And then, as Marco’s heart trembled with joy, she leaned forward and kissed him.

  EPILOGUE

  Three years later

  SIERRA STOOD AT the window of their London townhouse and watched as Marco came inside, whistling under his breath. A smile softened her features as she watched him, loving how light and happy he looked. There had been so much happiness over the last three years.

  Not, of course, that it had been easy or simple. She and Marco had both had so many fears and hurts to conquer. So many mountains to climb. And yet they’d climbed them, hand in hand, struggling and searching, together.


  They’d married in a quiet ceremony two years ago, and then decided to split their time between Palermo and London; Sierra continued with her music teaching, using holiday time to travel with Marco to various hotels all over the world. The Rocci Los Angeles had opened last year and Marco already had plans to open another hotel in Montreal, although he’d promised to reduce his work schedule in the next few months.

  ‘Sierra?’ His voice floated up the stairs and Sierra called back.

  ‘I’m in the nursery.’

  Grinning, Marco appeared in the doorway, his warm glance resting on the gentle swell of Sierra’s bump. They were expecting a baby girl in just over three months—a new generation, a wonderful way to redeem the past and forge a future together.

  ‘You’re feeling all right?’ he asked as he came towards her.

  Laughing, she shook her head. ‘You don’t have to coddle me, Marco.’

  ‘I want to coddle you.’ He slid his arms around her, resting his hands over her bump. She laced her fingers with his, savouring his gentle touch.

  That had been another mountain to climb: forcing her fears back and trusting in Marco’s love and goodness. And he’d been so good, so gentle and patient with her in so many ways. It had taken her a few years before she felt brave enough to start a family, to trust Marco not only with her own heart but the heart of their child’s.

  The reality of their baby, their joined flesh, had made their marriage all the stronger. Sierra had never looked back.

  As if agreeing with her, their baby kicked beneath their joined hands. Marco laughed softly. ‘I felt that one.’

  ‘She’s a strong one,’ Sierra answered with a little laugh and leaned her head back against Marco’s shoulder.

  ‘Just like her mother, then,’ Marco said, and kissed her.

  * * * * *

  Read on for an extract from A DIAMOND DEAL WITH THE GREEK by Maya Blake.

  CHAPTER ONE