by Abby Green
He had not expected to feel that same out-of-control animalistic urge again. He’d imagined the edge would be gone from his need. But as soon as he’d had Gracie’s face in his hands and her mouth under his all he’d been able to remember was the urgent need to fuse with her. The plane could have gone down into Everest and he wouldn’t have noticed or cared.
And she’d met him every step of the way—even more explosively now than the first time. Rocco cursed out loud. Women did not get under his skin like this. His mother had taught him his first lesson by never putting him first. Whoever had been her current benefactor, or her pimp, had always been number one.
As a hormonal teenager Rocco had found that the girls he’d made a fool of himself over went with the boys with the biggest guns, the most swagger. To this day he gave thanks that he hadn’t joined their ranks just to get a girl who would have soon dumped him for the next big thing. That had been his second big lesson.
His third had been when his sisters—two beautiful blonde, blue-eyed princesses—had stepped over him in the street without so much as a flicker of interest in the young man who had just confronted their papa, calling him Father. They’d not even flinched when their father had spat at him and pushed him to the ground.
When Rocco had finally left Italy and clawed his way up the ladder he’d taken great pleasure in seducing women from that world. Women who were privileged. There had been a measure of satisfaction in knowing that they would never touch an icy-cold and unbreakable part of him. The colder he was, the more he gained a reputation and a slavish following. His greatest satisfaction had come from imagining the horror and recoil on their faces if they really knew his darkest past.
But Gracie, with her serious eyes, her fierce protectiveness of her brother, and her slightly choked awe at flying over the Himalayas was fast unravelling what felt like years of block-building. He’d had no defences to pull around himself when she’d told him about the passport. Nowhere to go to hide or attack, which was what he was used to doing when he felt vulnerable.
She was connecting to a part of him long buried and denied, and he didn’t like the lack of equilibrium that came with that. Rocco knew he’d be the biggest fool to believe in the track of a tear on a woman’s cheek, or a cute story about a childhood dream, and yet—for possibly the first time in his life—he found a part of himself wanted to believe. Even just for a moment.
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘WHO are the clothes for?’ Gracie asked when she stepped out of the bathroom for a second time in a towel. The sun was high now outside, and she could see brown earth far below. She felt a shiver of excitement.
Rocco must have showered in another bathroom as he was just finishing buttoning up a shirt, hair damp and looking dynamic and virile. He looked at her. ‘They’re for you.’
Gracie felt herself grow tense. ‘But I have clothes.’
‘You need suitable clothes for the weather. You have no idea how hot it’s going to be. Also, I’m due to attend some functions in Bangkok and New York, so you’ll need appropriate evening dress.’
Gracie bit her lip and looked at the bags warily. ‘It feels weird, I don’t want you dressing me.’
Rocco looked impatient now. ‘It’s no big deal. Luckily I realised in time.’
Fire flashed up Gracie’s spine and she put her hands on her hips. ‘Oh? Because you’re afraid I’d embarrass you in public? Perhaps you shouldn’t have been so hasty kicking your fiancée out the other night. You wouldn’t have to dress her.’
Gracie knew she sounded petulant but she couldn’t seem to stop. The contrast between her and Rocco’s usual women was stark right now, and clearly she didn’t measure up.
‘Need I remind you that the outfit you made me wear the other evening was a size too small? But if you don’t mind me parading around with my—’
‘Enough!’
Gracie shut her mouth.
Rocco prowled closer and Gracie gulped. He looked dangerous. She could see a muscle throb in his jaw.
‘For the umpteenth time, she was not my fiancée. And the company that sent the serving dress made an error on the size. I think you’ll find that these will be a perfect fit, and if you don’t put them on I will dress you myself.’
Gracie stuck up her chin. ‘You don’t scare me, you know.’
For a second he didn’t react, and then Rocco laughed out loud, head thrown back. He looked back at her, eyes glinting and took her breath away.
‘I know,’ he said, with a peculiar quality to his voice. ‘Believe me, you’re the only one.’
When Rocco had walked out to let Gracie dress, she sucked in a deep quivery breath. The intensity of their lovemaking was still making her feel rawly vulnerable. She cursed herself for her reaction just now. The last thing she needed was that far too probing brain of his investigating why he pushed her buttons. She explored the bags of clothes and saw that they were the right size. Rocco had thought of everything—even make-up.
Reluctantly she packed away her own jeans and shabby shirt and, feeling like a fraud, dressed in a silk shirt, tailored lightweight linen trousers and flat shoes, and tried not to like how amazing the expensive fabrics felt against her skin.
A little later Gracie was sitting back in her seat with the belt buckled, barely able to contain her excitement as the plane descended through stormy-looking clouds into Bangkok.
The plane suddenly dipped and Gracie gripped her seat, looking at Rocco with panic. ‘What was that?’
‘Turbulence. It’s rainy season in Bangkok, so it’ll be stormy, but the rain is warm.’
‘Warm?’ Gracie knew she must sound ridiculous, but Rocco was reaching across the aisle for her.
‘Come here,’ he said throatily.
She scrambled out of her seat, more nervous than she cared to admit, and he swapped seats so that she could sit beside him at the window. She looked at him. ‘But you won’t be able to see.’
He gave her a funny look before replying, ‘I’ve seen it before. It’s your first time.’
Gracie finally tore her eyes away and looked down. They were just breaking through the clouds and she gasped in awe at the land below. ‘It’s so green. I never thought it would be so green!’
Rocco had his arms around her and his head close to hers. ‘It’s a mixture of jungle and paddy fields … rice paddies. It’s quite a lush country—especially in the rainy season.’
Gracie was shaking her head in awe, drinking it in. She could see a huge distinctively shaped temple right in the middle of a field, with tiny stick insect people walking back and forth. ‘It’s so beautiful.’
Rocco’s voice was amused. ‘You haven’t even seen it yet. Not properly.’
She turned her head. ‘Will there be time … I mean, to look around?’
Rocco felt that tightness in his chest as he looked into those brown gold-flecked eyes. He nodded. ‘Sure. We can go to the Grand Palace, and see some other things too.’
Impulsively Gracie pressed a kiss to Rocco’s mouth, and then turned away quickly before he could see the surge of emotion she was feeling on her face.
Gracie was still reeling from the terror of her first plane landing and the intensity of the damp heat when they’d walked out of the plane about thirty minutes ago. The sheer force of heat had hit her and instantly made her feel as overdressed as someone in a ski-suit.
Rocco had looked at her when they’d got into the back of a gloriously air-conditioned car, arched a brow and drawled laconically, ‘I told you so.’
Even in the space of those few minutes between plane and car Gracie’s shirt had begun sticking to her and her hair had started frizzing up. Rocco looked as unfazed as ever, and Gracie stuck her tongue out at him. ‘Does nothing ever affect you?’
Rocco’s face went serious and his eyes darkened as he drawled, ‘You do a pretty good job of affecting me.’
Gracie tore her gaze from Rocco’s with an effort. She was still freaked out by how quickly she lost control arou
nd him. Luckily they were soon smack-bang in the middle of Bangkok, and that sucked up all her attention.
The roads were wide, and tall skyscrapers pierced grey skies. It was all at once hectic and modern and ancient. Huge billboards written in a fascinating script showed pictures of gorgeous Thai families. Horns were screeching and there seemed to be a million mopeds, some of them carrying what looked like entire families. Serene-looking women were perched on the back seat, side-saddle-style, with babies in laps and helmets over their veils. Gracie’s eyes were huge as she took it all in.
She pointed at something. ‘What are they?’
Rocco followed her gaze and said, ‘They’re called Tuk-Tuks. They’re motorised rickshaws used as taxis.’
Gracie looked after the little vehicles wistfully, before her attention was taken by something else. Rocco stared at her face, enraptured by all her expressions, before he realised and broke his gaze away. He cursed himself. He had occasionally brought women on business trips, especially if he needed a companion for the ubiquitous social engagements. But he knew well that he’d never been so effortlessly distracted before.
He could well imagine the blasé reaction of someone like Honora Winthrop to Bangkok. Some people hated it, but it was one of Rocco’s favourite cities and he couldn’t help the warm feeling at seeing that Gracie looked as if she was going to love it too.
When they arrived at the hotel Gracie scrambled out of the car before the driver could open the door. She was like an irrepressible puppy. She turned around to face Rocco, a huge smile on her face. ‘I love this heat. It’s like standing in a warm shower after the water has stopped. And the smells are so exotic …’
Rocco tried not to notice how the silk of her shirt was already damp with her body heat and clung to her breasts, outlining their firm shape, the thrust of her nipples. The new clothes hugged her lithe figure, attracting attention, making him suddenly wish she was still dressed in her plain clothes.
He gritted his jaw and took her arm to lead her into the most exclusive hotel in Bangkok. It was one of the prestigious Wolfe chain of hotels, and he knew Sebastian Wolfe, the owner, personally. When they were on their way up in the lift Rocco looked at Gracie. He found that he was already anticipating her reaction to the room. And when the manager showed them in he wasn’t disappointed.
Gracie walked around, speechless. She touched the backs of chairs and ran her hand along gleaming table tops. She found sliding doors and opened them, to step out onto a huge terrace which overlooked the Chao Praya river.
Rocco put down his laptop case and strolled towards the doors. The manager had left, after assuring Rocco fervently that he must call him any time of day or night if he needed anything. Rocco smiled. He didn’t doubt that he had been personally informed by Sebastian to take care of him.
Rocco was reminded for a minute that Sebastian had recently married his beautiful Indian wife, and only a few weeks later she’d given birth to their baby boy. Sebastian had sent Rocco a picture of the three of them together, and it was an image of family bliss that Rocco had found almost difficult to look at. He pushed the memory aside now, frowning when he couldn’t see Gracie.
Suddenly she appeared from around the corner, where a huge bamboo tree swayed gently in the breeze. ‘There’s a pool! Our very own private pool.’
He smiled and put his hands in his pockets, because he didn’t think he’d be able to stop himself from touching her. ‘I know.’
Her face fell, and it had an instant effect on his mood. ‘Oh, of course you do. You must have been here a thousand times before.’
He gave up the effort it took to restrain himself and walked over, hating her crestfallen expression. He put an arm around her, pulling her close, and tipped her chin up. ‘Not quite a thousand … a lot of times, though. You like it here?’
Gracie smiled and looked embarrassed, ‘Like it? Are you crazy? This place is like Eden. I’ve never seen anything like it. The city is … overwhelming, breathtaking. This hotel is like … another world.’
Rocco pulled her closer and spoke without thinking. ‘You’re breathtaking.’
Gracie’s cheeks went a delicate pink, and she buried her head in his chest and mumbled, ‘No, I’m not.’ She looked up then. ‘I’m just normal, and I think that’s a novelty for you.’
His heart clenched. If only she knew. He lifted up a hand and kissed it, noticing that her palms had already started to soften. The realisation forced him to make his voice sound light. ‘I have to meet with some clients downstairs. Why don’t you have a nap and settle in? The jet lag shouldn’t be too bad as we slept on the plane. We’re going out tonight to a function, and then I’ll be at meetings most of the day tomorrow.’
Gracie just nodded, out of her depth in more ways than one. His words sank in—one in particular. Function. She bit her lip.
‘The function tonight … will it be very grand?’
Rocco nodded, with a serious expression on his face. ‘It’ll be disgustingly grand, and there’s going to be a huge buffet—so you’d better bring a suitcase to fill for any needy neighbours.’
It took a second for Gracie to realise he was making fun of her. She mock-hit him, but trembled inside at his easy humour. Lord, when he turned on the charm he needed to come with a health warning.
‘Seriously, though, I’ve only ever been to that one in London. What if people talk to me?’
‘Talk back.’ He quirked a dry smile. ‘You didn’t seem to have a problem talking to me that night. Just don’t assume everyone’s security.’
And then he was letting her go and stepping away. Gracie felt ridiculously insecure, but kept her hands by her sides.
‘I’ll see you in a few hours.’ And then he’d turned and was striding away with that mesmeric athletic grace.
That evening Gracie gave herself a last once-over. Rocco was waiting outside, in one of the suite’s main lounges. They each had their own bathrooms and dressing rooms. She still couldn’t take in the opulence of it all. Everything was dark wood and dimly lit. Asian antiquities were lit up in artful cubbyholes by spotlights. Gorgeous ornate silk coverings and cushions littered the sumptuous furniture and bedroom. The bathroom had two showers—one was open to the elements. The bed in their room alone would have slept a football team comfortably.
Inside the suite was almost cold with the air-conditioning, and when she stepped outside it was like stepping into a warm oven.
She took a deep breath. The dress she wore shimmered with a million varying shades of red and burnt orange. It should have clashed with her colouring, but it didn’t. Made of some kind of delicate lamé material, it fell to the floor in a swirl of different colours. It was V-necked and sleeveless. Gracie looked very pale. She felt so insecure about what she should wear, but how could she ask Rocco for advice? He was a man. She should know these things.
She wore high-heeled strappy red sandals, and she’d made an effort with make-up. She’d dithered with her hair for ages and had finally managed to tame it into a chignon. Taking another deep breath, she turned away and picked up a small gold clutch bag. She walked out slowly in the heels, and saw Rocco standing at the now closed sliding doors. His hands were in his pockets and his back looked impossibly broad in the black suit. Hair curling a touch over his collar, exactly as she’d noticed that first night in London.
For a heart-stopping moment Gracie had an overwhelming instinct to run far away and fast. But at the same moment he must have heard her, and turned to look around. His eyes dropped and then came back up, widening imperceptibly.
Worried, she asked huskily, ‘Is it okay? I wasn’t sure what would be appropriate—’
‘It’s perfect.’
He came towards her then, hands coming out of his trouser pockets, and Gracie almost stumbled backwards at the sheer force of him in the tuxedo. She was standing by a table and he reached down and picked up a box she hadn’t noticed. He opened it up, presenting it to her, and she looked down to see a plain diamond stu
dded necklace and stunning diamond drop earrings.
She looked up at him. ‘What’s this?’
He frowned. ‘Jewellery for you to wear.’
Gracie shook her head, backing away a little. ‘It’s too much, Rocco. I can’t wear these. They must be worth a fortune.’
A dark shadow seemed to pass over his face, and then it cleared. Easily he said, ‘They’re from the shop in the hotel. They can be returned in the morning.’
She looked at him suspiciously. ‘They’re really only for tonight?’
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.
