Free The Legend of de Marco by Abby Green

blushed.
    ‘I hope you’re not lying about your ability to cook dinner.
    I won’t stand for any attempt at insolence, Gracie. Tonight is important to me.’
    Pain lanced Gracie and she spoke before she could censor herself. ‘Because you’re entertaining your fiancée?’
    Rocco frowned. ‘How do you know about that?’
    If she could have swallowed her own tongue she would have, but she said miserably, ‘I saw a headline outside.’
    For a long moment Rocco just looked at her, and then said, ‘She is not my fiancée yet. Not that it’s any business of yours.’
    Gracie remembered what he’d said before she’d opened her big mouth and said rebelliously, ‘If I did serve up fish fingers you’d have no one to blame but yourself.’
    Once again she had the curious feeling that he was holding back a laugh, but then he glowered at her. ‘Don’t even think about it.’
    ‘Was that all?’
    He nodded curtly, and before Gracie did or said something she’d really regret she turned and fled.
    Rocco watched Gracie’s slim back retreating through his offices. He didn’t miss the fact that she caught the eye of more than one male employee, or that it made his insides tighten. How did she have the singular ability to constantly make him veer off course and gravitate towards her?
    Her observation about his offices being too transparent had never been made before—by anyone. He felt inordinately exposed, because only he knew that his preoccupation with being able to see all around him came from his early days and the constant need to watch his back. It was also why he surrounded himself with people when he knew most others in his position preferred solitude. On some level, because he’d grown up surrounded by so many, it was one thing he hadn’t been able to let go of, andshe’d effortlessly spotted it. Albeit without understanding it.
    Most people assumed it was an aesthetic thing. But it was as if she’d
known
there was more to it. And then that comment about always striving to be at the highest point. Literally.
    She disappeared into the elevator and Rocco sat down and swung his chair around to the view, so no one could see him. For the first time he actually did resent the lack of privacy. He rested his elbows on the armrests of his chair and his chin on steepled fingers. In that moment a very illicit and long-buried feeling of rebellion stirred his blood.
    Mid-afternoon that day, Gracie was neck-deep in preparing her menu for the evening. She was hot and sweaty when George appeared in the kitchen, holding out a big white box.
    ‘For you, from the boss.’
    Gracie wiped her hands on her apron and took it. Her silly heart started to thump. Some rogue part of her brain seemed to run away with itself and she couldn’t help imagining a beautiful chiffon dress in delicate shades of pink. And for a moment she couldn’t help fantasising that dinner this evening was for
her
and Rocco.
    She laid the box on the table and opened it up with unsteady hands. It only took a few seconds for those traitorous images to crumble to dust. She reached in and pulled out a black pinafore dress and a white apron. Sheer tights and plain black court shoes. A note fell out too. The arrogant scrawl said,
‘Please wear this later. R.’
    Gracie alternately felt like laughing and crying. She’d never before allowed herself to daydream such fantasies even for a moment. Her life had been about gritty realityfrom day one. She’d had one boyfriend and he’d never given her anything—not even a birthday card. And suddenly she was indulging in Cinderella-esque dreams?
    Disgusted with herself, Gracie stuffed the dress back into the box, childishly hoping it would get creased. She returned to her preparations and took a deep breath, curbing the desire to walk down to Rocco’s gleaming office and tip the sauce she’d been preparing over his smarmy head.

CHAPTER FIVE
    P ACING in his drawing room that evening, Rocco couldn’t remember the last