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 She felt it in the way Marco had already withdrawn back into the shuttered privacy of his thoughts, his eyebrows drawn together as he stared up at the ceiling.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.
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 himself 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
