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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 as his gaze moved around the tiny sitting room with its shabby sofa and rickety chairs. She’d tried to make it homely with some throws and framed posters, but it was a far cry from the luxury Marco was used to. ‘What about a hanging case, for your evening clothes?’
She thought of the second-hand dress folded in her suitcase. ‘It’s fine.’
Marco didn’t answer; he just took her suitcase and walked out of the flat. Sierra expelled a shaky breath and then followed him, locking the door behind her.
In the two weeks since she’d agreed to accompany Marco to New York, she’d questioned her decision many times. Wondered why on earth she was entangling herself with Marco again, when things between them were complicated enough. Surely it would be better, or at least easier, to walk away for good. Draw a final line across the past.
But there on the street she’d seen Marco as she’d never seen him before. She’d seen him being open and honest, vulnerable, and she’d believed him. For once suspicion hadn’t hardened her heart or doubt clouded her mind. She’d known Marco was speaking the truth even when he didn’t want to, when it made him feel weak.
And so she’d said yes.
And not just because he’d been so honest, Sierra knew. It was more complicated than that. Because she felt she owed him something, after the way she’d walked away seven years ago. And, if she was as honest as he had been, because she wanted to see him again. And that was very dangerous thinking.
The driver of the limo took her suitcase from Marco and stowed it in the back as Marco opened the door and ushered her inside the car.
Sierra slid inside the limo, one hand smoothing across one of the sumptuous leather seats that faced each other. She scooted to the far side as Marco climbed inside, and suddenly the huge limo with its leather sofa-like seats and coffee table seemed very small.
It was going to be a long three days. An exciting three days. Maybe that was another reason she’d agreed; as much as she liked her life in London, it was quiet and unassuming. The thought of spending three days in luxury in New York, three days with Marco, was a heady one. Even if it shouldn’t be.
The door closed and Marco settled in the seat across from her, stretching his legs out so his knee nudged hers. Sierra didn’t move, not wanting to be obvious about how much he affected her. Just that little nudge sent her pulse skyrocketing, although maybe it was everything all at once that was affecting her: the limo, the scent of his aftershave, the real and magnetic presence of the man opposite her, and the fact that she’d be spending the next three days with him.
She looked out of the window, afraid all her apprehension and excitement would be visible on her face.
‘Are you all right?’
She turned back, startled and a little embarrassed. ‘Yes, I’m fine.’
‘Have some water.’ He handed her a bottle of water and after a moment Sierra uncapped it and took a drink, conscious of Marco’s eyes on her as she swallowed. ‘I do appreciate you agreeing to do this,’ he said quietly.
