Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE

H ER EYES SPARKED WITH HIS, and she felt the tension building inside of her, like a knot, pulling at her as it was with him. Their pasts, their meeting, their future—a fork in the road that could lead them to many different futures. He lifted a hand and stroked her cheek, but she jerked away from him, shaking her head a little.

"It's not—I'm not going to lie and say it's not complicated," she admitted after a beat. "But that's all the more reason to end this."

Sensible. Rational. Right? Probably. But her words were anathema to him. "Why?" He pushed. "Does that really make sense to you?"

Her throat shifted as she swallowed. "None of this makes sense to me," she said, darkly. "You're someone I'm supposed to hate, someone I hated long before I even met you. Every minute of this has been a betrayal of my ideals, my beliefs, my loyalty to Jack…"

"Your grandfather has nothing to do with this."

"He's the reason we met."

"We met because of a house, not a person."

"A house that means the world to me," she said, slashing her hand through the air. "You couldn't possibly understand?—,"

"Couldn't I?"

"You have all this," she gestured wildly, to the walls of the marquee, but they both knew she meant the grounds beyond, the villa, his palatial home, his life, with so many anchor points he could never blow away. "I have nothing, except that one little house near the beach, and the walls that offered me shelter and protection when I was a terrified, abandoned kid." Tears sparkled on her lashes and his gut twisted for a whole other reason now. He was torn between the deals he'd made, the profits he'd foreshadowed, the commitments he'd pledged to developers, estate agents. He couldn't simply walk away from the deal because of Maddie. Could he?

"I understand that nothing's permanent," she continued, sipping her champagne again, fingers still trembling. "I understand that better than a lot of people," she muttered. "But I thought…I just thought I'd always have that home to go back to."

"Go back to? You've never left it, Maddie," he said, trying to be gentle, but frustration was lapping at him—all the more so because she wasn't simply falling in with his plans and admitting that she too wanted this to keep going.

"Are you seriously judging me for that?"

"I'm not," he promised. "But I'm saying what I've thought all along—that selling the house could be a new beginning for you."

"Yes," she whispered. "And for Jack. I know that, and I accept it. But I can't forgive you," she said, honestly, biting into her lower lip, her brow furrowed. "I can't forgive you for your part in it."

He hadn't expected that. It hit him like a lead weight, right in the chest. Stars filled his eyes. "It's just business."

"Not to me," she whispered. "To me, it's personal."

"Then what the hell have we been doing?" He demanded, one hand on his hip, his fingers pressing into his flesh with weight.

"Sleeping together," she murmured. "It doesn't mean anything, remember?"

He'd said that to her. He'd certainly believed it, right at the beginning. He'd thought Maddie would be another easy-to-forget woman to take to his bed and then move on from. He'd thought sleeping together would scratch an itch, easy as that.

"Right," he nodded slowly, even as her words burned through him like acid. "And you don't want to sleep with me anymore?"

Her eyes lifted to his, her lower lip tremulous. Damn it, she looked so uncertain. Could she really doubt the strength of their connection? At least when it came to sex? That much was damned obvious.

"We can't."

"That's not an answer."

"No," she shook her head, but lifted a hand to his chest, her fingers touching him, so lightly it was almost painful because he wanted her to touch him properly. "The answer is that I want to sleep with you. That I don't know if I'll ever stop wanting to sleep with you, and that scares the hell out of me, Rocco. It terrifies me. Do you know how many times I saw my mom make this mistake? How many times I saw her lose her head to some guy who was all wrong for her in so many ways? Nothing good comes from this. Nothing."

His eyes probed hers, but he saw only fear in their depths—fear, and the absolute conviction that she believed she was right.

"That's different."

"Was it?" She scoffed. "How?"

"For one thing, you're not going to lose your head to me. I'm talking about seeing each other—casually. I'm not asking you to marry me."

She flinched then, and he realized it was the wrong thing to say.

"Neither of us wants that, right?"

Her eyes latched to his and, for some reason, the breath caught in Rocco's throat, so his lungs wouldn't inflate properly.

"Maddie?" His voice was stern, demanding an answer.

She shook her head quickly. "I used to think—," she bit into her lower lip. "Once upon a time, I was desperate to get married and have kids. I wanted a family of my own, so I'd always have a place in this world, in someone's heart. But then—," her voice trailed off into nothing. It didn't matter; she didn't need to say it for Rocco to understand.

"Your ex."

Her eyes flicked to his. "Brock, was his name."

Rocco hated the other man already.

"Everything I'd ever thought about men, about trusting men, about how stupid it is to let someone into your heart, was underscored by my experience with him."

"This isn't about your heart," he promised, trying to make this safe for her.

"Which just goes to show how little you know me, Rocco. If you think I'm capable of sleeping with someone like you for any period of time and not thinking myself in love, then I must be a total stranger to you."

It was like staring at her through one of those odd carnival mirrors, designed to bend the whole world out of shape. Her words were coming to him from such a great distance. He needed to understand, even when he wasn't sure he wanted to. "Are you saying you're in love with me?"

She rolled her eyes, visibly frustrated. "No. I'm saying that if we keep seeing each other, I'll fall in love with you, and I don't want to take that risk. I don't trust you," she whispered, then grimaced. "It's not your fault. I don't trust anyone, anymore. But you…you least of all."

It was spectacularly unfair. "What have I ever done to jeopardise your trust?" he asked, nostrils flaring as he stared down at her.

Her expression was heavy. "Nothing," she said, shaking her head. "And everything."

"You're speaking in riddles."

"You've always been honest with me, so far as I know, but you're still the guy who pulled my life apart at the seams."

"That was never about you," he slashed a hand through the air. "If I had met you before all this, I wouldn't have bought the houses. Is that what you want to hear? That I wish I could go back and do it all over? But I can't. I'm too far down the road. It's not just my money and time, it's the company's—my family's. It's everything I've worked for—and they're counting on me."

"Your work means everything to you."

"Is that a flaw?"

"No, it's a fact. You might think you want me, but in reality, I'm way, way down the list of things you care about." She dropped her hand from his chest. "That's another fact."

He could only stare at her because in theory, she was right. He had his work, his business deals, his family. These were the only things he had ever cared about, and that approach had served him well, all his adult life.

"I didn't expect to care about you," he admitted. "But I do."

An emotion sparked in her eyes that he didn't understand. Disbelief? Hope? He shook his head impatiently.

"It's not enough."

"What do you want from me?" he asked, dragging a hand through his hair.

"Nothing you could ever give me."

"What is it?"

"I need a guarantee."

"A guarantee of what?"

She shook her head, and the smile on her face was ghostly, full of self-mockery. "That you'll never lie to me. That you'll never betray me. That I won't get hurt by being with you. And even if you could promise me any of those things, I wouldn't believe you."

"Only a liar would make that promise," he said thickly. "Because life is unpredictable and uncertain, and I can promise one thing today that might not prove true in a year's time. But I can show you who I am, and what I'm capable of, and not capable of. You know me, Maddie. You know me—beyond the property transaction, and my dedication to this company, my family—you know me. Do you think I would ever hurt you?"

Her lips parted on a rush of breath. "I—don't know. And it's not a risk I'm willing to take."

The sentence had started with ambivalence but finished with determination, and as if to underscore it, she took a step backward.

He was losing her; perhaps he'd never really had her. Not if she was speaking the truth. If she was incapable of trusting him, because of her past, and unwilling to forgive him because of the purchase of her grandfather's house. It was all against him and always had been.

"Tell me why." He had no choice but to accept her decision, but that didn't mean he wasn't entitled to an explanation.

"I've told you?—,"

"No. Tell me what happened with your ex."

Her eyes widened with surprise.

"He's the reason you're refusing to give this a chance, isn't he?"

She toyed with the stem of her champagne flute, fingers running up and down the length.

"This was always just a fling," she reminded him. "We got caught up, but it doesn't change?—,"

"Everything's changed. That's fact," he snapped, then made a visible effort to calm down. "Tell me what happened with the two of you."

He could tell she didn't want to. He could see the rejection on her features, which were pinched tight, in her eyes, that were awash with grief and panic. And then she turned as if to walk away, and he was faced with the choice of letting her go or going after her. He chose the former.

When he was growing up, his grandmother had kept a little book of quotes in the kitchen, and one in particular had always resonated with him. It was about setting something you care about free, to determine by their own free will if they will return or not. He'd memorized the words but never really understood them, until this moment. He cared about Maddie, he cared about having her in his life, but he wasn't going to try to force her to stay. How could he?

And then, like a bolt of lightning, an idea careened into him. An idea that fundamentally skewered the wisdom he'd just been ruminating on, and yet, wasn't it a way to give them both what they wanted? He wasn't ready to end this, but neither was he willing to throw away a lifetime of certainty that he would never get married. He wanted more time with Maddie, but not a lifetime. And he knew she wanted him, too. She just needed to know that it was safe for her. Transactional, almost. A businesslike quality to their personal life, so she knew she wouldn't be destroyed as she was with her ex.

He had an answer; a way to give them both what they needed. Adrenaline fired in his blood. He ignored what he would be throwing away financially and focused only on this moment. Here. Now. Maddie.

"Give me one month, Maddison, and I'll tear up the contract."

Her back went ramrod straight; she didn't turn to look at him. The words were out there now; there was no taking them back. No stopping to question the wisdom of what he'd just said.

He had no idea how she was taking the proposition. His gut churned with a wild mix of emotions he couldn't identify. He was pretty sure shame was cresting to the fore. Was he really doing this? Distilling what they were down to a property transaction? Using real estate to barter her back into his bed?

"What exactly do you mean?" she asked.

This was it. His chance to take it back. He could tell her he hadn't meant it. That he'd just been speaking without thinking. He could say something. But there was a possibility she'd accept, and so he held firm, squaring his shoulders and planting a hand on his hip in a foolproof gesture of confidence.

"Give me a month. Give us a month."

"And in exchange, you'll stop the development?" she whirled around to face him, her features still pinched, but somehow unreadable. As though she were intentionally shielding herself from him. Damn it, he didn't want that either!

"Yes."

"I thought it was worth too much to you, your family, your company?"

So did he. It was in that moment, he realized that for the first time in his life, he'd met someone who mattered more than business. More than money. More than his family?

A bead of perspiration formed on his brow. He hadn't appreciated how high stakes this conversation was until this moment, when he'd laid down an ultimatum and was waiting, powerless to influence her. He could only stand there, mute, silently wishing, and hoping…

"What exactly happens in this month?"

How easily she'd exposed the flaw in his plan—that he'd given it precisely no thought. "It would be like before," he said, hesitating slightly.

"And then what?"

"We'll work it out then."

"That's not good enough. How can I agree to something when the terms aren't clear?" She shuddered a little. "You're offering me a way to stop the development. I'm asking exactly what I'd have to do…"

Nausea crested in his belly. She made it sound wrong. All wrong. She made it sound as though she would consider giving him a month only to stop the development, when for Rocco, this was all about them. He dragged a hand through his hair, uncertain for one of the few times in his adult life. "Forget about it."

"How can I forget about it?" she asked witheringly. "You're dangling a carrot in front of me, pretty much the only thing I want in life, so tell me how I get it, exactly?"

He was speechless. This was definitely not going as intended. Not that he'd ‘intended' anything. The whole stupid offer had just slipped out, with no planning, no forethought, no intelligence, obviously.

"Is it a month of being with you every night? Or every other night? Or just on weekends? Or am I simply to be at your beck and call, waiting for the phone to ring because you ‘need' me?"

"You're twisting my words."

"I'm clarifying them," she responded caustically.

Okay, fine. If she wanted specificity, he'd give it to her. He was used to negotiating deals; he could think fast. "Five nights a week, at my hotel. Travel with me, if I need to travel."

"I see," she tapped a finger to the side of her lips, in a gesture that was somehow mocking, and furious. He just knew she was going to reject him. She was stringing him along, but soon, she'd close the door on this.

Slowly, with a look in her eyes that glittered with cold hatred, she stalked back towards him, each stride long and determined. Then, her hand stretched out. Not to slap him or punch him, as he suspected he deserved, but rather to offer her own to shake.

"You've got yourself a deal, Rocco."

His heart thumped against his ribs. His body went tight all over.

"What?" his voice rang in his ears.

"One month. Five nights a week, trips as required, and in exchange, you get the hell out of Honeybee Lane. And then, my life."

He slid his fingers over hers, his eyes refusing to dodge her gaze, even when shame was making him hurt. He had her. For one month more, he had her, and at the end of that time, everything would be different. Clearer. Better. By then, God willing, he'd be willing to walk away. As for the development, letting it go would be a financial blow, but he wouldn't regret it. How could he?

That was just business and this, well, this was Maddie.

The conversation had been a disaster, on so many levels, for Maddie. She'd gone from accepting the reality of their situation to realizing how much more she wanted from Rocco, to accepting that he'd never give it to her, to understanding that he really believed her time—and, more vitally, sex with her—could be bought. Okay, he was willing to rip up a deal he'd already paid tens of millions of dollars for, but that didn't change the facts. It didn't erase the insult or hurt.

This was what she meant to him?

He didn't love her, but he did want her.

And just like that, she'd realized something. She thought she'd given up on the idea of love and forever, of family and hearth, of a handsome stranger riding in on a horse to save her, to be her everything and her all, but deep down, that was still Maddie's biggest dream in life. She wanted to love and be loved.

And when Rocco had come to the marquee and started talking to her, she'd hoped against hope that he was going to give her something. Something more meaningful than still wanting her in his bed. Something more meaningful than sex. Not a declaration of love, exactly, but maybe something…close?

She'd reduced what they were doing to sex, hoping like hell he'd contradict her. That he'd tell her the sex was just a part of what he liked about Maddie. She'd even hinted at how precarious this was for her—she'd been honest and told him that sleeping together would lead to her loving him. He didn't share those concerns—he didn't see any risk to himself. He just wanted to keep the physical side of their relationship going.

And like everything in his life, Rocco was willing to pay for what he wanted—because that was how things worked in his world. Everything was transactional. He wanted her, she wanted Jack's house and the street to stay the same as always, and so he had offered her that one thing, in exchange for this one thing.

Win, win, right?

Except it wasn't a win for Maddie, and it sure as hell wasn't going to be a win for Rocco.

If he honestly thought she'd go through with a deal that was as debasing as this, he had another thing coming.