A Devilishly Dark Deal. Maggie Cox

THREE

      THOSE needs Marco referred to had been deliberately and carefully suppressed ever since that horrible evening when her then boyfriend, Chris, had flown into a dangerous rage because Grace had refused to give in to his demands to have sex. After accusing her of flirting with another man at the party they’d attended, he’d pushed her up against a wall and slapped her hard across the face. Just as she’d been reeling with the shocking ending to what had been a pleasant evening at a mutual friend’s birthday party, he’d pinioned her to the floor, as if he would force her to give him what he wanted.

      She had been beyond terrified. It was only when she’d made herself not give in to her fear and spoken in a quiet, reasonable tone, urging him to think about what he was doing and telling him he would bitterly regret it in the morning, when he was sober again, that he had seemed to come to his senses and let her go. She’d left him sleeping and never returned.

      ‘The kind of needs you’re referring to aren’t that important to me,’ she said now with a feeling that was a mixture of despair and dread settling in the pit of her stomach. ‘They’re certainly not as important as other things in my life.’

      Leaning towards her across the table, Marco drove every single thought out of her head when he gently caught hold of a blonde tendril of her hair and slowly entwined it round his finger.

      ‘You mean like saving the orphans?’ he suggested huskily.

      Even as her blood heated, and the resultant intoxicating warmth drove away all traces of despair, out of the corner of her eye Grace registered the brief flash of a digital camera going off.

      Her companion had registered it too. Unravelling her hair from round his finger, he rose smoothly from his seat and strode across the polished wooden floor to the smartly dressed male perpetrator, sitting across from them with his female companion. Without saying a word he removed the camera from the surprised man’s hands, pressed what Grace was certain was the ‘delete’ button on the back, then calmly returned it.

      Having obviously identified the couple as British, he declared, ‘If you ever try and do that again I will sue you,’ and only a fool would ignore the underlying fury in his tone. ‘I see that your meal hasn’t arrived yet. Take my advice: make your apologies to the maître d’ and go and dine somewhere else.’

      His point made, and frighteningly succinct, he returned to sit down again opposite Grace, not sparing the man he had warned so much as a single glance to see if he and his companion had taken his advice. Only seconds after he sat down again the couple had collected their things and swiftly exited the terrace.

      ‘Does that sort of thing happen often?’ Grace frowned.

      The broad shoulders that his white T-shirt fitted so mouthwateringly snugly and that accentuated his strong toned musculature, lifted in a shrug. ‘Often enough to be tedious,’ he replied, a thread of weariness in his tone, ‘but it will not spoil our lunch together because I will not let it.’

      Even so, the intimacy that had hovered so tantalisingly between them before the man had foolishly snapped the picture had definitely disappeared. Grace told herself she should be pleased, but strangely … she wasn’t. Now Marco’s dark gaze was clouded with unease, and his shoulders looked tense despite his assertion that he wouldn’t let the incident spoil their lunch. Suddenly she had a glimpse of how the downside of fame and celebrity must so heavily encroach upon the recipient’s understandable desire for privacy. It made her partially regret her impulsive ‘accosting’ of him yesterday …

      ‘Marco?’ The distinct wariness in his returning glance upset her. ‘If you would rather leave we can perhaps meet up again tomorrow instead? I know I pressed you about making the donation, and as far as the children are concerned it’s definitely urgent, but I’m here for at least another week and a half.’

      For the first time in longer than he could remember Marco had laid aside the demands and concerns of running a hugely successful enterprise for a while in order to give his full attention to something purely enjoyable for himself. This afternoon he had willingly surrendered his corporate persona to fully embrace the experience of being young and less careworn in Grace’s refreshingly innocent company. But that thoughtless diner had tainted his pleasure, making him only too aware that he wasn’t as carefree as he wanted to be. He’d had plans to enjoy a long, lazy lunch that could possibly extend into the evening. Now Grace had asked him if he would like to forego that and meet up tomorrow, or at a later date instead.

      It wasn’t an option he wanted to entertain even brief ly. The truth was he really liked the way this woman made him feel, and he craved more … much more of the feeling.

      ‘I don’t wish to leave, and nor do I want to postpone our lunch for another day.’ As to if to highlight his intention, he snapped his fingers to attract the waiter hovering nearby, who had clearly been assigned to their table, ‘I believe we are ready to order,’ he announced, deliberately catching Grace’s eye and smiling. ‘Do you mind if I order for us both? If you like fish then I know the perfect dish. You will love it, I am sure.’

      ‘Be my guest,’ she replied quietly, her blue eyes flickering in surprise that he wished to stay after all. ‘Go ahead and order.’

      To accompany their meal he ordered a bottle of the very good light red wine the region was known for. Perhaps a glass or two would relax his pretty companion, he mused, thankfully sensing his previously less tense mood return. ‘I am sorry if you were disturbed by that thoughtless idiot trying to take our picture,’ he remarked. ‘These people never seem to consider that I might need a private life as much as they do.’

      ‘Having transgressed your privacy myself yesterday—albeit for the charity—I must admit I don’t envy you, having to put up with that. It makes me realise that it’s a great gift to be anonymous—to come and go wherever and whenever you please and to know that the public at large don’t have a clue who you are and nor do they care.’

      ‘You are fortunate indeed if you never crave the recognition of others to make you feel valued.’

      The pale smooth brow in front of him creased concernedly. ‘Do you?’ she asked him bluntly.

      Though no one would ever know it, Marco privately owned that sometimes he did. But he wasn’t about to admit that to a woman he’d only just met. In fact, he wasn’t going to admit it to anyone. It was a painful aspect of his ego that frustrated and irked him. But also perhaps inevitable that a man whose father had abandoned him to an orphanage as a baby because he couldn’t take care of him on his own after Marco’s mother died was fated to crave the recognition of others in a bid to help him feel worthwhile …

      ‘Do I strike you as a man who courts the approval of others?’ he answered, his tone a little more clipped than he’d meant it to be.

      ‘I don’t know. I’ve only just met you.’

      Once again, Grace’s luminous sky-blue gaze unsettled him, suggesting as it did that she intuited far more than was comfortable for him.

      ‘But I imagine it’s not easy to be in business in this world … especially if you have a high profile. It must be a lot like being an actor—you’re always playing a role, and you can’t really be yourself, can you? Especially when people believe that it’s your success and reputation that defines you as a person. It must make it difficult to foster good relationships at work, and even in your private life.’

      ‘So what have you personally heard about my reputation? I’m interested to know.’

      The smooth space between her slim elegant brows crumpled a little, almost as though it grieved her that he should ask such a question. ‘I don’t read the newspapers very often, and when do I’m apt not to believe what they write about the lives of people in the public eye.’

      ‘But nevertheless you have heard things about me somewhere along the line yes?’

      ‘I’ve heard it said that nobody can be