him in disbelief.
‘You opened four hotels before you were nineteen,’ Marco reminded her. ‘People are used to seeing a Rocci cut the ribbon. You should be the one to do it.’
‘I had nothing to do with that hotel, or any of them.’ She was filled with sudden and utter revulsion at the thought of opening one of her father’s hotels. Playing happy families, and this time from the grave. How many times had she smiled and curtsied for the crowds, how many times had her mother waved, wearing a long-sleeved dress to hide the bruises? She had no desire whatsoever to revisit those memories or play that part again. ‘I appreciate your consideration,’ she said stiffly, ‘but I don’t need to open the hotel. I have no wish to.’ Some of her distaste must have shown on her face because Marco frowned.
‘Why not?’
Sierra hesitated, stalling for time by taking a sip of wine. She was still hesitant to tell Marco the truth of her father, her family, because she didn’t think he’d believe her and even if he did she didn’t want his pity. It was shaming to admit she’d allow herself to be abused and used for so long, even if she’d only been a child. And if he didn’t believe her? If he accused her of lying or exaggerating to sully her father’s name? Or maybe he would believe her, and think her father had been justified. Maybe he countenanced a little rough handling. The truth was, she had no idea what his response would be and she had no intention of finding out.
‘Sierra?’ He leaned forward, covering her hand with his own. She realised she was trembling and she strove for control.
‘Like I said, the past is in the past, Marco. I don’t need to be part of Rocci Enterprises. I left it behind when I left Sicily.’ She forced a smile, small and polite, definitely strained. ‘But, as I said, thank you for thinking of me.’
His hand still rested on hers; it felt warm and strong. Comforting, even if it shouldn’t be. Even if she still didn’t understand or trust this man. She didn’t pull away.
* * *
Confused frustration surged through him as Marco gazed at Sierra, tried to figure out what she was thinking. His magnanimous approach had clearly failed. He’d hoped that Sierra would embrace his suggestion, that she’d be glad to have a chance to mend a few bridges, be a Rocci again. More fool him.
He sat back, letting go of her hand, noticing the loss even as his mind raced for another way forward. ‘You don’t seem to bear much good will for Rocci Enterprises,’ he remarked, ‘even though you were obviously close to your family at one time.’
Her mouth twisted. ‘I don’t feel anything for Rocci Enterprises,’ she said flatly. ‘I was never part of it.’
‘You were at every hotel opening—’
‘For show.’ She turned away, her expression closing, her gaze downcast so he could see her blond lashes fanning her cheeks.
‘For show?’ He disliked the thought instinctively. ‘It looked real to me.’
‘It was meant to.’
‘What are you saying? I know your parents loved you very much, Sierra. I saw how they reacted when you left. They were devastated, both of them. Your father couldn’t speak of you without tears coming into his eyes. And you never even wrote them a letter to say you were safe.’ His voice throbbed with intensity, with accusation, and Sierra noticed. Her gaze narrowed and her lips pursed.
‘You don’t think my father could have found me if he wanted?’
‘Of course he could have. He was a very powerful man.’
‘So why do you think he didn’t?’
Marco hesitated, trying to assess Sierra’s tone, her mood. ‘Sierra,’ he said finally, ‘I am under no illusions about your father. He was a proud and sometimes ruthless man, but he was honourable. Good.’ Sierra pressed her lips together and said nothing. ‘You hurt him very much by leaving. Even if he’d never admit it.’
‘Of course.’ She shook her head. ‘Why did you ask me to come to New York?’ she said. ‘Really?’
Unease spiked in his gut. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean you’re not telling me the truth. Not the whole truth,’ she amended when he opened his mouth to object. ‘Just like always. This isn’t some act of chivalry, is it, Marco? It isn’t some benevolent impulse you’ve had out of the goodness of your heart.’ She shook her head slowly. ‘I almost bought it. I almost bought the whole act, because I was almost so stupid. Again.’
‘Again?’
‘I trusted you seven years ago—’
‘I wasn’t the one who betrayed a trust,’ Marco snapped.
Sierra leaned forward, her eyes glittering icy-blue now, two slits of arctic rage. ‘And you say you’re not angry any more? Why are you here? Why am I here?’ She folded her arms, levelling him with her glare. ‘What do you really want from me?’
SHE COULDN’T BELIEVE how gullible she’d been—again. Wanting to believe the best of Marco Ferranti. Wanting, instinctively, to trust him. Hadn’t she learned anything? No matter how kind he could seem, he’d been her father’s apprentice for ten years. He’d wanted to marry her to further his business interests. And yet some part of her still wanted him to be kind.
‘Well?’ she demanded. ‘Have I actually managed to render you speechless?’
‘You’re jumping to conclusions,’ Marco said, an edge entering his voice. The charm was gone, dropped like the flimsy, false mask it was. She knew how it went. Fear spiked through her and she tamped it down. She would be no man’s punching bag, emotional or physical, again.
‘Then why don’t you try being honest?’
‘I was being honest. I do think you should have some part in Rocci Enterprises. In fact, if you’d given me a chance, I would have told you I’m prepared to give you most of your inheritance back.’ He eyed her coolly, as if waiting for her to trip over herself with gratitude.
‘That’s very big of you,’ she answered, sarcasm spiking her voice. ‘You’re prepared to give me most. That’s so very, very noble.’
Marco’s lip curled. ‘You want more?’
‘I don’t want anything but the truth. Stop trying to manipulate me. Just tell me what you want.’
A muscle ticked in his jaw as their gazes clashed. Even with the anger simmering between them, Sierra felt an unwelcome kick of desire. A sudden sharp memory of the way he’d plundered her mouth, her body...and how good it had felt.
She saw an answering spark of awareness in Marco’s eyes and knew he was remembering, too.
Good grief, what was wrong with her? How could she still want a man whom she couldn’t trust, didn’t like? Why did she have to have this intense physical reaction to him?
‘I’m still
