LITMIR.BIZ

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still waiting,’ she snapped.

      ‘Having you open the New York hotel is of some benefit to me, too,’ Marco finally bit out. ‘Fine, I’ll admit it. The public would like to see a Rocci cut the damn ribbon.’

      She sat back against the sofa, strangely deflated by his admission. ‘So you were trying to make it seem like you were being nice. Thoughtful. When really you just wanted me to come for your sake.’

      ‘For the company’s sake. You might have no great interest in Rocci Enterprises, but do you want to see it fail? Seventy years of history, Sierra, and most of my life.’

      ‘I don’t care about Rocci Enterprises,’ she said flatly. ‘I don’t care if it fails.’

      ‘You don’t care about your family’s livelihood?’

      ‘The only family left is me, and I make my own living,’ she retorted. ‘Stop trying to guilt me into this.’

      ‘What about the livelihood of all the employees? Five hundred people are going to be employed by Rocci New York. If the hotel fails—’

      ‘The hotel is not going to fail if I’m not there,’ Sierra declared. ‘My father has opened several hotels in the last seven years. I haven’t been at any of them. I’m not needed, Marco.’

      ‘As you pointed out yourself, you’re the only Rocci left and people want to see you.’ He paused. ‘The board wants to see you.’

      ‘Ah.’ It was starting to make more sense now. ‘Your job is in jeopardy.’

      His mouth tightened. ‘I have the controlling shares of the company.’

      ‘But if you lose the confidence of the board as well as the public?’ She shook her head. ‘It won’t look good.’

      Fury flared in his eyes and Sierra felt an answering alarm. She was baiting him, and why? Because she was angry. She was furious and hurt that he’d been using her. Again. And she’d almost let him.

      ‘I’m leaving.’ She shoved her wine glass onto the coffee table with a clatter and rose from the sofa, grabbing her bag. ‘Thanks for the drink,’ she tossed over her shoulder, and then she strode from the wine bar.

      She was halfway down the street, her heels clicking loudly on the pavement, when she heard his voice from behind.

      ‘I need you, Sierra. I admit it.’

      She slowed but didn’t stop. Was this simply more manipulation?

      ‘I don’t want to need you, God knows.’ There was a note in his voice that she hadn’t heard before, a weary defeat that touched her even though she knew it shouldn’t. ‘I don’t want to be at your mercy. I was once before and it didn’t feel all that great.’

      She turned around slowly, shocked when she saw him standing there, his expression unguarded and open in a way she’d never seen before.

      ‘When were you at my mercy?’

      ‘When I stood at the front of the church and waited for you to show up at our wedding.’ He took a step towards her. People had been streaming past them but now a few slowed, curious about the drama that was being enacted on a London street. ‘Why would you help me?’ he asked. ‘I didn’t feel I could simply ask. I didn’t want to simply ask, because I didn’t want to be refused. Rejected.’ His mouth twisted in a grimace and Sierra realised how hard this was for him. This—here, now—was real honesty. ‘Again.’

      ‘Marco...’

      ‘I poured my life into Rocci Enterprises,’ he said, his voice low and intense. ‘Everything I had. I’ve worked for the company since I was sixteen. I started as a bellboy, which is something you probably didn’t know.’

      ‘A bellboy...’ Sierra shook her head. She’d assumed Marco had come in on the executive level. She’d never asked, and he’d never spoken about his history, his background or his family. A painful reminder of how little she knew about him.

      ‘Your father saw my potential and promoted me. He treated me like a son from the beginning. And I gave everything in return. Everything.’

      ‘I know you did.’ And Marco’s unwavering loyalty was, Sierra surmised, why her father had chosen him in the first place, both as business associate and prospective son-in-law. Because her father had wanted someone who would forever be in his debt.

      Marco closed his eyes briefly. ‘The company is my family, my life. Losing it...’ His voice choked and he ran a hand through his hair. ‘I can’t bear the thought of it. So I am sorry I tried to manipulate you. I apologise for not being honest. But you have my life in your hands, Sierra, whether you want to or not. I know you bear no love or even affection for me, and I accept that my behaviour recently hasn’t deserved it. But all I have left, all I can do now, is to throw myself on your mercy.’ His gaze met hers, bleak, even hopeless. ‘Not a position I ever wanted to be in, and yet here I am.’

      * * *

      He hadn’t meant to say all of that. He’d come into this meeting wanting to keep his pride intact, and instead he’d had everything stripped away. Revealed. He might as well be standing by the damned altar, waiting for his bride. If she refused him now...

      He couldn’t tell what she was thinking or feeling. She’d cloaked herself in that cool composure he’d once admired. He waited, breath held, having no idea what he could say or do if she told him no. If she walked away. Then she spoke.

      ‘I’ll go to New York,’ she said. ‘And I’ll open the hotel.’

      Relief poured through him, made him nearly sag with the force of it. ‘Thank you.’

      She nodded stiffly. ‘When is it?’

      ‘In two weeks.’

      ‘You can forward me the details,’ she said, and for a second her expression wobbled, almost as if she was going to cry. Then she nodded her farewell and turned and walked down the street, away from him.

      * * *

      Sierra peeked out of the window of her ground floor flat at the sleek black limo that had just pulled up to the kerb. Marco had said he would send a car, and she supposed she shouldn’t be surprised that it was a limo.

      But she was surprised when he stepped out, looking as devastatingly sexy as ever in a crisply tailored navy blue suit. She’d assumed she would meet him at the airport. Apparently Marco had other ideas.

      Nervously, she straightened the pale grey sheath dress she’d chosen for travel. She didn’t have too many fancy clothes and after she’d agreed to Marco’s suggestion, out on the street, she’d realised she didn’t have anything to wear to the ball on the night of the hotel’s opening. She’d used some of her paltry savings to buy a second-hand dress at a charity shop and hoped that in the dim lighting no one would notice the fraying along the hem.

      Marco rapped on the front door and, taking a deep breath, Sierra willed her shoulders back and went to answer it.

      ‘Hello, Sierra.’ His voice felt like a fist plunging inside her soul. Ever since she’d seen him out on that street, admitting everything, being honest and open, she’d been plagued by doubts, filled with hope. Here finally was the man she could trust and like. The man she’d glimpsed seven years ago. And she didn’t know whether to be glad or fearful of the fact. In some ways it had been easier, simpler, to hate Marco Ferranti.

      ‘You’re ready?’ His gaze swept over her in one swift assessment as she nodded.

      ‘Yes, I’ll just fetch my case.’

      ‘I’ll get it.’ He shouldered past her so she could breathe in the scent of his aftershave and hefted her single suitcase easily. ‘This is all you’re bringing?’

      ‘I don’t need much.’

      He frowned, his straight eyebrows drawing together

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