The Legend of de Marco Read Online Free PDF

were with him last week, flaunting yourself in front of me. You
knew
who I was.’
    Gracie sucked in an outraged breath that had a lot to do with the memory of how transfixed she’d been by him that night. ‘I was
not
flaunting myself.
You
came over to
me.
’
    At this Rocco de Marco flushed a dull red, and for the first time Gracie had a sense that she’d gained a point. But any sign of discomfiture was quickly erased and his face became a bland mask again. Bland, but simmering—if that was possible.
    Quickly, before he could launch another attack, Gracie admitted reluctantly, ‘I was with Steven because he was self-conscious about going alone.’
    Rocco’s lip curled. ‘I have yet to believe that you are even Steven Murray’s sister. Why does he have a different surname?’
    Gracie shifted uncomfortably and knew she must look pathetically guilty. She looked down. ‘Because … because he fell out with our father and took our mother’s maiden name.’ It wasn’t entirely untrue.
    ‘Not to mention the fact that you look nothing like him.’
    Gracie looked up to see Rocco’s dark gaze travelling up her body, over her chest to her face. She could feel the heat rising. ‘No,’ she snapped. ‘I know I look nothing like him. But not all—’ She stopped abruptly, realising she’d been about to say
twins.
She amended it. ‘Not all families resemble each other. He looks like my mother and I look like my father.’
    She crossed her arms too, feeling ridiculously defensive, and knew it was only because for her whole life she’d wondered if she’d looked more like their mother would shehave loved her the way she’d loved Steven? Would she have stayed?
    The fact that she’d eventually abandoned them both was little comfort and a constant source of guilt for Gracie. She could still remember the long nights of hugging her brother as he’d cried himself to sleep, wondering where their mother had gone.
    For a long time she’d felt it had been
her
fault, because her mother hadn’t wanted her. It was only with age and maturity that she’d realised their mother had had no intention of ever taking Steven—too wrapped up in her own problems and her own dismal world.
    After a long moment of glaring at Rocco, Gracie could feel herself sway. Her vision blurred slightly at the edges. Just as she was inwardly cursing her own weakness Rocco emitted something unintelligible and came towards her, putting a big hand on one arm. She stiffened at his touch, hating the incendiary effect he had on her, but at the same time aware of how close she was to collapsing. Like some Victorian heroine in a swoon.
Pathetic.
    She tried to pull away, but to no avail.
    Rocco said, from far too close, ‘When was the last time you ate, you silly woman?’
    This time she did pull free, and glared at him again. ‘I’m
not
a silly woman. I’ve just been … worried. I didn’t think about eating.’
    That black gaze swept up and down again and his lip curled. ‘You don’t seem to think about eating a lot.’
    He strode away from her and Gracie watched him, half mesmerised by his sheer athletic grace. He flung over his shoulder. ‘There are some instant meals in the fridge. Follow me.’
    Gracie felt seriously woozy now. Rocco de Marco was offering her
food
?
    She tore her gaze away from six feet four of hard-muscled alpha male and looked to the apartment entrance, beyond which lay the private lift doors. Suddenly the distance to freedom seemed tantalisingly close.
    As if he’d read her mind Rocco materialised again a few feet away, with hands on his hips, and said softly, ‘Don’t even think about it. You wouldn’t make it to the next floor before you were returned.’
    Her heart stammered as she looked at him. ‘But … I didn’t see anyone.’
    Rocco winked at her, but there was no humour on his face. ‘Haven’t you watched any Italian movies? My men are everywhere.’
    Gracie tried to reassure herself that he was just joking, but