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And look how that had turned out.
She tilted her chin defiantly.
She was not her mother, and this would not be something she came to regret. With Rocco, so long as she stayed in the box seat, completely in charge of things, it would be fine.
“I want to have fun,” she said with a slow, decisive nod. “And then I want to get on with my life—without you in it. Okay?”
His brows drew together. “Which means?”
“I’ll come to Italy with you. I’ll do the best damned flowers in the world for your brother’s wedding. And I’ll back out of the house matter. It’s Jack’s house, so it’s his decision. But I can never forgive you for your part in that, and I will never get over it— no matter how much fun we have, that will always be in the back of my mind.”
He returned her slow, considered nod. “You’ll never forgive me.”
“Do you blame me?”
He thought about that long and hard. “It’s not personal. It’s business.”
“That’s a cop-out.”
“No, it’s true. Of all the homes I have purchased in that street, you are the only person who’s looking at me as though I am the devil incarnate.”
“Perhaps I’m the only one who’s gotten to know you?” She bit back with saccharine sweetness.
“Perhaps,” he surprised her by agreeing, but then he pulled her body close against his, all naked and warm, and she inhaled his intoxicating masculine scent with a small sigh. “Italy and then we’re done,” he said, as if making a promise to himself. “That will be the end of it.”
“Yes,” she agreed, thrilled with the clearly drawn boundary. There was no chance of losing herself to him, and this, if such scaffolding existed. No chance whatsoever; she was perfectly, sensibly safe.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“OKAY, I HAVE A QUESTION.”
He glanced across at where Maddie sat, all petite and bright in the beige luxury of his private jet. Her legs were folded beneath her, hands toying with a resin bangle she wore, and her eyes had been busily scanning the space for the last ten minutes or so.
“I imagined you might.”
Her gaze shifted back to his face and anticipation tightened there, like a coil.
“But can you guess what it is?”
“I couldn’t even attempt it.”
She flashed him a grin.
“So?” he prompted, intrigued.
“You have all this,” she gestured around the plane, almost knocking the air hostess who was walking towards them with a tray of refreshments. Maddie withdrew her hand quickly, offered a smile of apology, then waited until they were alone once more. A glass of ice-cold champagne had been placed in front of Maddie, and a scotch for Rocco, as well as a tray of prosciutto, cheese, nuts, and fruit.
Maddie eyed the latter and, when they were alone, continued: “You have all this, so why do you work so hard?”
Rocco’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“What do you work so hard for? Isn’t this enough?”
“I’m not motivated by money.”
“I thought everything was about money?” she repeated back to him.
“Money is an excellent metric of success. That’s what I really care about.”
