The Legend of de Marco
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Gracie looked down to escape that blistering gaze and saw creamy mashed potato and what looked like succulent beef pieces in a stew of vegetables. This was no standard ready meal—this was from a fancy deli. Her stomach rumbled and she went puce.
Defiant to the end, even as she gave in and pulled back the covering she said waspishly, ‘I might have been vegetarian, you know.’
She heard a noise that sounded slightly strangled, but wouldn’t look at Rocco for fear of what she might see. She started transferring the food onto the plate, hating being under his watch but too hungry to stop.
After a moment he said, with over-studied politeness, ‘Forgive me for not checking with you first.’
She cast him a quick glance and something in her belly swooped. He’d been laughing at her. She hurriedly looked away again and concentrated on the food. Once the first succulent morsel of beef hit her mouth she was lost, and devoured the lot like a pauper who hadn’t eaten in weeks.
From out of nowhere a napkin and a glass of water materialised. Gracie wiped her mouth and took a long drink of water. Only then did she dare to look at Rocco again. He was staring at her, transfixed. She immediately felt self-conscious and wiped her mouth again. ‘What? Have I got food somewhere?’
He shook his head. His voice sounded rough. ‘When was the last time you ate?’
For a moment Gracie couldn’t actually recall. She fidgeted with the plate and mumbled, ‘Yesterday … lunchtime.’ But in fact she knew she hadn’t really eaten properly in days.
‘Where do you live?’
Gracie met Rocco’s dark and hard gaze. Something in his demeanour had changed. He was back into questioning mode. And then the full reality of her situation flooded back. She flushed and avoided his eyes. She felt like such a pathetic failure at that moment.
‘Gracie …’ he said warningly, and her insides flipped again at the way he said her name. It felt incredibly intimate.
She looked at him and squared her shoulders. She couldn’t go any lower in his estimation, and perhaps if he knew just how harmless she was he’d let her go?
‘I lived in Bethnal Green until this morning. But I lost my job two days ago and they wouldn’t give me my wages. I couldn’t give my landlord the full rent today, so he suggested I make it up to him in other ways.’
Gracie shuddered reflexively when she remembered his sweaty face, grabbing hands and acrid breath. Before she knew it Rocco had moved. She felt her right hand being picked up and he was inspecting the grazed and reddened knuckles. She’d forgotten, and winced slightly because they were still tender.
He speared her with a glance, ‘You hit him?’
She shrugged slightly, more mortified than ever now. She hated her instinct to fight. She’d had it ever since someone had picked on Steven when they’d been tiny. ‘He was backing me into a corner. I couldn’t get out.’
Still holding her hand, Rocco said grimly, ‘I suppose I should consider myself lucky you didn’t aim a swing at me too.’
Gracie looked up at his hard jaw and figured she would have broken her hand if she had. He was standing very close now, still cradling her hand. Her belly clenched and a coil of something hot seemed to stretch from her breasts right down to between her legs. And as if on cue she felt a throb, a pulse coming to life.
She pulled her hand away and started babbling. ‘I left my cases at Victoria train station in the left luggage. I should go and get them and find somewhere for the night.’
She was off the stool and backing away now, as if she’d forgotten for a moment why she was there in the first place, suddenly terrified at the weak longing that had sprung up inside her when Rocco had held her hand.
He continued to just look at her with his arms folded. ‘I told you before that you won’t make it to the next floor if you try to leave.’
Panic rose up, constricting Gracie’s voice. ‘You can’t keep me here. That would be kidnap. I only came to Steven’s office to try and find him. That’s all. I really don’t have an ulterior motive. I didn’t take anything and I didn’t know about the money.’
Rocco looked at the woman in front of him. Strange how his entire world had contracted down to her since he’d seen her in the lift. For a second that knowledge threatened to blast something open inside him, but Rocco reminded himself that she was providing him with the key to finding the culprit who’d had the temerity to think he could take advantage of him.
That was why he hadn’t thought about anything else.
It had nothing to do with the fact that just a moment ago, when he’d held her hand in his and seen her bruised knuckles, he’d felt rage within him at the thought of some faceless man threatening her.
To divert his mind away from those provocative thoughts, he asked, ‘Why did you lose your job?’
He could see her hands ball into fists. She was like a glorious feline animal, bristling and lashing out in defence, and a curious weakness invaded his chest. When he’d watched her eating ravenously he’d been mesmerised—first of all because he wasn’t used to seeing women eat like that, and also because it had reminded him of him. He would never forget what it was to be hungry.
‘I had issues with some of the customers.’
Rocco arched a brow and welcomed being forced to re-focus on the present. ‘Customers?’
She flushed pink. ‘I worked in a bar in a less than salubrious part of town.’ And then she said in a rush, ‘Just temporarily.’
Again Rocco felt a kind of rage growing within him—not at her, but for her. He could well imagine men finding her feisty allure something to challenge and harness. She was proving to be altogether far more of an enigma than she’d appeared that night just a week ago.