by Maggie Cox
‘Marco? What’s wrong? You’re worrying me.’
Gathering her urgently into his arms, he crushed her to him and kissed her as if he might die if he didn’t.
Neither he nor Grace heard the changing room door open and Natalie murmur, ‘Desculpe me … excuse me …’ then quietly and discreetly leave.
CHAPTER TEN
TRUE to her word, Natalie had shown them out the back way, and thankfully they’d escaped the notice of the predatory crowd waiting for them to emerge outside the front of the boutique. They’d run all the way back to the car, and had both been breathless when they arrived. Miguel had given them a bemused glance, then gunned the engine, and they’d left the glamorous marina behind to travel back to the villa.
Marco held her hand throughout the entire journey. Grace fought hard to contain her grief—lodged like a burning stone inside her chest as she recalled gazing down into Azizi’s big brown eyes and seeing the absolute trust there that she would take care of him. She had had a special bond with the baby boy since the night a co-worker had put him into her arms. At every opportunity she had held him, bathed him, sung to him if he was fractious and it cut like a knife that she would never take care of him again …
Stealing into the midst of her grief came the thought that she might have a baby of her own if Marco had made her pregnant. Instead of making her feel apprehensive, as it had done before, the idea actually started to console her. She even began to pray that it would come true. Even though he’d said that he didn’t have any good example of what it meant to be a father, Grace didn’t doubt that Marco would make a good one. She’d had too many examples of his kindness and concern for people not to believe it. If he could only endeavour not to keep his emotions locked up so tightly they might even have a future together, she mused.
The notion rocked her world off its axis.
Lifting her gaze to his as the car drew nearer to the villa, she became intimately aware of the hungrily burning intensity that glowed in her companion’s hooded dark eyes. It caught her in a spell that even the most powerful magic would never free her from. It was as though every unfulfilled hope, dream and desire they’d ever had had erupted inside them the moment his lips had brushed hers in the changing room back at the boutique. It had literally been like touching flame to tinder. And now they were set on a course to fulfil those dreams and desires …
As soon as they’d reached the villa and gone in, Marco waited only until they were at the foot of the grand staircase before sweeping Grace off her feet into his arms and transporting her upstairs to the bedroom. Once there, they hungrily tore at each other’s clothes, sharing each other’s breath with drugging, rapturous kisses, until they fell onto the bed in a flurry of searching hands and tangled limbs, eager and impatient to stop the world and any notion of pain or sadness—to make love until they were utterly spent and exhausted.
Lying on her front in the opulent bed, the covers in a pool of oyster silk around her, Grace turned her head to examine the lazily sexy smile of the man beside her. ‘Do you have any idea how much I like you, Marco Aguilar?’ she whispered.
Exhaling a long, slow breath, he trailed his fingertips up and down her spine, sending a cascade of delicious shivers throughout her body. ‘Why don’t you tell me?’ he urged.
‘I like you more than any other man I’ve ever met … But please don’t let that scare you. It doesn’t mean I expect any more than you’ve already given me or are willing to give while we’re together.’
‘Why do you think it would scare me to hear you say that?’ His ebony brows lifted quizzically.
‘Because I get the feeling you don’t want anyone to get too attached … especially a woman.’
‘You think so?’
‘Why don’t you answer the question? Do you fear a woman getting too close to you, Marco?’
His fingers stopped trailing up and down her spine. His expression had a shuttered look about it, and Grace tensed apprehensively.
‘What do you think?’ he said slowly. ‘Everyone that should have been close to me … would have been close to me … I’ve lost. Maybe I associate becoming too attached to someone with loss? Can you wonder why I wouldn’t want it?’
Even though she knew he was reluctant to talk about personal things, Grace sensed a definite opening in his usual guard—perhaps brought about by their passionate and tender lovemaking? She hoped so. At any rate, she wouldn’t let the possibility of a deeper conversation go.
‘Marco …?’
‘Hmm?’
Reaching out, he manoeuvred her round into his arms, smiling wickedly and making her heart race like mad. Poignantly, she saw how he hoped to deflect her questions with humour.
‘What is it now, my angel? Think of me as your very own personal genie … your wish is my command.’
She sucked in a breath. ‘Will you talk to me …? I mean really talk to me?’
If her request disturbed him, there was no immediate indication that it did.
‘What is it that you want to discuss? Tell me.’
‘I’d like to talk about you …’
‘Ah.’
‘You just mentioned the loss in your life. Can I ask you about your childhood?’
‘What do you want to know about it?’
‘You said that your father abandoned you in the orphanage when your mother died? Did you ever find out where he went afterwards? I mean, did he never get in touch with you while you were there?’
The sudden tension in his muscles was slight, but she immediately detected it and held her breath.
‘The answer is no to both questions. My mother and father were sixteen and seventeen respectively. They were both orphans … no parents, no home. When my mother died giving birth to me my father was apparently so broken-hearted that all he could think of to do when he went back to the hospital to collect me was take me to the orphanage where he himself had been raised—in fact where he and my mother had met. At the time he was doing some casual labour to make money, and was renting a small inadequate room in the town. He pleaded with them to take me because he had neither the means nor the ability to raise me by himself … and no doubt that was true. After promising to keep in contact, he left. They never saw him again.’
Rubbing his hand across his eyes, Marco deliberately averted his gaze.
‘It’s not easy to find a seventeen-year-old youth with no forwarding address, and no family through which he might be traced either.’
Carefully, gently, Grace flattened her palm against his chest. His heartbeat was racing slightly, and he took a long breath in, then slowly blew it out again. She waited for a few moments for him to start talking again. When he didn’t, she rested her head where her hand had been. His breathing was steadier now, and his hard-muscled chest with its dusting of soft dark hair was warm and wonderful to lie against … like the safest haven she could imagine. Despite his sad upbringing he had such tenacity. She marvelled at the psychological strength it must have taken to rise above the painful start he’d had in life and—against all the odds—achieve something as remarkable as without a doubt he had.
‘Your parents would have been so proud of you if they’d seen you grow up,’ she murmured, tears filling her eyes not only for Marco, but for Azizi too—a boy that had also never known his parents. It was hard to understand why life had to be so hard and cruel sometimes.
‘Hey.’ Marco moved back so that he could study her. ‘Are you crying for me? If you are, then don’t. I don’t want you shedding tears for what happened a long time ago … too long. My own policy is never to look back. I’ve put it all behind me now and I have no regrets.’
Grace cupped his beard-shadowed jaw. ‘I’m crying for you and for Azizi. Childhood is so precious. Is it true, Marco? Is it true that you don’t ever think about yours and wish things might have been different?’
His gaze was completely unwavering as he considered her, and the sun streamed through the huge windows, illuminating the tiny flecks of
light in his dark pupils. ‘Yes, it’s true. I never think about the past and wish it had been different. What on earth would be the point?’
‘Were you ever happy at all when you were growing up in the orphanage?’
‘Not particularly, no. Are your orphans in Africa happy?’
‘Sometimes they are. Their lives are challenging, of course. But they take one day at a time … Children live in the moment, don’t they? They don’t occupy themselves in regretting the past and fretting about the future. And if an adult is kind to them, pays them attention and gives them a hug, their smiles are unbelievable. They respond with so much love that it takes your breath away. It’s the most rewarding work … helping to make them happy even for just a little while.’
‘It must be for someone like you, Grace.’
‘Like I told you before … I’m not the only one who loves those kids. You would love them too if you met them. Wasn’t there anyone who looked after you when you were little that loved you, and you loved back?’
Scowling, he sat up, dragging the covers over his knees. ‘Not that I recall. Are we finished talking about me now? I think we are, because I can tell you I’ve had enough of revisiting the past for one day and I’d like you to respect that.’
‘I’m really sorry if it distresses you to talk about such things. but—’
‘No doubt you think it’s for my own good?’ His ensuing sigh was heavy, and laden with irritation. ‘You think it might help me release some of the hurt of rejection you imagine I feel inside and make me feel better about myself, is that it? Deus! You are like a dog with a bone when you want to get to the bottom of things aren’t you, Grace?’
‘I only want to try and help.’
‘Well, don’t. I’m not one of the coterie of orphans you’re intent on saving single-handedly. The only way you can help me is by being the companion I want you to be for the duration of this holiday and by sharing my bed—not by being a latter-day Mother Teresa! If I need to explore any angst about the past I’ll go to a psychologist.’
For long moments his furious tirade crushed her. Then Grace determinedly called upon the reservoir of strength she always drew from whenever she had a challenge to face. She stowed away her embarrassment at being so brutally put in her place and somehow found a smile. Something told her that Marco’s anger wasn’t about her encroaching upon his painful memories of the past, but purely because he was furious with himself that those memories still haunted him. ‘I hear you. Again, I’m really sorry if I’ve made you feel uncomfortable in any way. Let’s talk about something else, shall we?’
Driving his fingers roughly through his burnished dark hair, he stared at her hard. ‘Good idea. How about we talk about you instead, hmm? For instance, who was the guy you lost your virginity to? Let’s start with that, shall we?’
She’d risked upsetting Marco and now she was paying the price. However, believing as she did that talking was good, she wouldn’t flinch from telling him what he wanted to know. Perhaps her own story would help defuse his anger and frustration with himself?
Sitting up beside him, Grace turned her head to directly meet his gaze. ‘He was just a guy I briefly dated at university. We only slept together that one time. It was hardly love’s young dream—just the opposite, in fact. Because in the morning he told me he’d made a mistake … that he preferred someone else but hadn’t been able to bring himself to tell me.’
‘So he stole your virginity just for the hell of it, then went on to some other poor, gullible woman?’
Shrugging, she folded her arms round her knees. ‘We both made a mistake. I’m not proud of it. You do some stupid things when you’re young—especially when you’re looking for acceptance and approval.’
Sliding his hand round her jaw, Marco made her turn her head so that he could intimately examine her face. ‘You’re too hard on yourself. It’s the guy who was stupid … stupid to think there was someone better than you.’
‘Thanks,’ she murmured, hoping and praying that the tenderness she heard in his voice meant he wouldn’t stay mad at her for long, for daring to quiz him about his past.
‘And what about the guy that assaulted you?’ he asked gently. ‘What was your relationship like with him?’
Her insides knotting, Grace grimaced. ‘It wasn’t anything special, if that’s what you’re asking. We just kind of fell into going out with each other because we enjoyed the same kind of movies and music … For a while he’d been a part of the group of friends I hung out with, so when he asked me out I believed I knew him—I thought he’d be okay … that he’d treat me well. Everything was fine until he started pressing me to sleep with him. I kept resisting, because I didn’t even know if I liked him enough to keep on dating him, let alone have an intimate relationship. We went to a party one night. He’d been drinking steadily throughout the evening so I drove us home. He didn’t want to be dropped off at his place, and asked if we could go back to mine for a cup of coffee, saying he would ring a cab to take him home. I agreed. It was a stupid decision, because at the time I really believed that was all he wanted. But as soon as we got inside my flat he started accusing me of flirting with some guy at the party. It wasn’t true … not remotely. Anyway, he started shoving me around a bit, then he pinned me to the floor and—’
She couldn’t continue. The memory made Grace feel sick and wretched, scared too that she seemed to be so hopeless at choosing the right men.
‘I shouldn’t have made you talk about it … I’m sorry’
Easing her head down onto his chest, Marco threaded his long fingers through her tousled fair hair and tenderly massaged her scalp. It had been despicable of him to make her recall the man who had hurt her, but his own anger and pain about the past—and jealousy too, at the idea of Grace being with anyone else before him—had made him temporarily and regrettably cruel.
She shifted, and a soft sigh feathered over the surface of his skin, raining him with goose bumps. ‘I don’t mind you asking me about my previous relationships … if that’s what you could even call them. When you’re intimate with someone it’s only natural that you want to know as much as you can about them.’ Moving to sit up next to him, she shook back her prettily mussed blonde hair and folded her arms. ‘When we first met you asked me if I had a boyfriend and I said no. You never told me if you had anyone on the scene. Is there? Is there some woman somewhere that you care about, Marco? Someone you maybe should have mentioned to me?’
Staring up at the ornate ceiling, he momentarily rested his forearm against his brow. Reflecting on the abhorrent treatment he’d received from his ex-girlfriend Jasmine, when she’d had the audacity to take him to court for breach of his so-called promise to support her when she’d been fired from her job, he scowled.
‘No. Of course there’s no one else. I wouldn’t do that to you—ask you to spend your holiday with me and share my bed if there was another woman on the scene. I know plenty of rich men that play the field … but I’m not one of them.’
‘That’s good to know’ she replied softly, with the full force of her bewitching blue glance coming to rest unwaveringly on his face. ‘Can you perhaps tell me what your last girlfriend was like? Could you at least share that with me?’
He laughed harshly, then sat up. ‘If you really want to know, she was a total nightmare! I was well rid of her in the end.’
‘What happened?’
‘Nothing that I care to revisit or talk about.’
Grace had that look on her face that told Marco she wasn’t going to let him off the hook so lightly, and inside he knew he would have to concede.
‘But I just told you about my previous relationships … even though it was painful.’
‘Okay.’ He held up his hands in an exaggerated gesture of surrender, then raked his fingers through his already mussed hair. ‘She was a fashion model whose looks I was briefly and foolishly enamoured with. I should have looked a lot deeper than the surface package she presented, but for some r
eason I didn’t. Perhaps I was lonely at the time? Who knows?’ He snorted disparagingly. ‘It turned out that she was addicted not just to very rich and gullible men but to cocaine—and any number of other addictive drugs too. When the fashion house she worked for didn’t renew her contract, because frankly she was becoming a liability, she took me to court claiming I’d promised to support her. I did no such thing. I had told her we were finished even before she lost her damn job!’
‘That must have hurt … to have a woman you cared for betray you like that,’ Grace murmured sympathetically.
His eyes narrowed. ‘I didn’t say that I cared for her.’
‘It still must have hurt.’
Relenting, Marco caught hold of her hand. ‘It was my pride that was hurt more than anything else. But why are we even talking about this? Can’t we just forget about our pasts and concentrate on what’s going on right now? I have a suggestion. Why don’t you put on that pretty new dress and we’ll go out?’
‘Out where?’
‘We’ll drive to my yacht and take a cruise round the bay.’
‘You have a yacht?’
‘What self-respecting billionaire doesn’t?’ he joked, his breathtaking smile dazzling her. ‘I only have to make a call and the crew will make it ready for us. What kind of food would you like to eat? I can phone one of many restaurants and get them to deliver our order to the yacht. We can sit on the deck and eat out under the stars.’
Grace sighed. She saw how the idea of going to his yacht and arranging for their dinner to be delivered from a fine restaurant immediately put Marco back in control, returning him to the world of elite lifestyles that he’d grown comfortable with … where he knew who he was and what he wanted … where he could merely snap his fingers and have a bevy of eager retainers hurry to do his will. It also helped him temporarily hide from the hurt of his childhood, when he patently hadn’t been in control of what happened to him.
