“Don’t be ridiculous.” The hard look was back in Rocco’s eyes. “And you’re not to lose any weight.”
Okay, maybe her ego needed that lift. And she definitely needed to not talk about what had just happened. Not going in for dissection or listening to more reason why not. She couldn’t bear it. “I knew it was unlikely. The only way I’d be a success is because of my name. My connections. Not me,” she babbled. “But I don’t really want that either.”
“He talked to you at the party the other night?” Rocco stepped back from her, running his hand through his hair and ruffling it as he put yet more distance between them.
“He took a couple of pictures that night and showed them to me. Gave me his card.” Remembering this was good. It was uncomfortable—like having a bucket of cold water tossed in her face.
“What were the photos like?” He walked to the trolley and lifted the lids to peek at the dishes.
“Not safe for work.” She’d been in her slinky, slip-style dress. No bra. The expression in her eyes had been so obvious, as had the sharp outline of her peaked nipples poking through the silk. The pictures hadn’t been far off pornographic.
She’d been in that over-heated room, looking at Rocco. No blaming the cold.
“But he took them at the party?” Rocco frowned as he asked.
“He’s good at getting an angle.” She shrugged and sat at the place he had gestured to at the table. Her mouth watered, how long was it since she’d eaten?
“What did you do?” he asked.
“At the time, I ran away.” She picked up the cutlery and mentally debated between tasting the seared steak first, or whatever that puree was beneath it.
If she couldn’t have Rocco, she’d have this. The ultimate displacement activity—she needed something to get seriously stuck into. Something to help her avoid thinking about what had been stopped.
“Of course you did,” he mocked and sat opposite her. “But then he tracked you down here?”
“I called him. Desperate times...” She trailed off and took the first bite of her dinner.
“Not that desperate.” He grimaced. “And the lemonade in the champagne flute?”
She swallowed. “I wanted my wits about me, but didn’t want to look like a naive kid. I ordered before he got there, obviously.”
“So that get rich quick scheme failed.”
“It was a dumb-ass idea anyway.”
“Mmmm,” he agreed. “So what’s the next scheme?”
She had no freaking idea but she was determined to so something. It was years before she came into her trust fund—and even then only if her father didn’t do anything to prevent her from accessing it. Truth? She wanted to prove herself first anyway—gain independence long before that inheritance started paying dividends direct to her bank account. She wanted to succeed without any help from any of them.
But as she had no idea how, she avoided answering by eating.
“Why don’t you want to go home?” He filled in the silence, apparently not as starving or in need of distraction as she was. “You could work at the resort. Summerhill is massive, it always needs staff.”
Yeah, that was how Rocco had survived. But her father wouldn’t ever let her do the same.
“He’d never allow me front of house. It wouldn’t be the done thing to have his daughter as one of the hotel maids.” The guy was too obsessed with the family image. “Now Connor is so busy being the boss, he doesn’t know whether I’m there or not. I’m just I’m the pesky kid sister who kept running away from boarding school and not staying out of sight.”
She was supposed to stay out of sight, happily studying her ass off for exams she didn’t want to sit, until she took on the destiny her father had dreamed up for her. High-flying lawyer or whatever, in about eight years’ time.
“Is that why you took a job at St Clair’s?”
She stopped chewing and glanced at him. He’d barely touched his meal, was sitting abnormally still now. She didn’t know how long it was since he’d seen his mother. His half-brothers. Did he want to know anything about them?
She swallowed the suddenly tough piece of meat. “I wasn’t allowed to work at the resort and I needed to earn money. Dad didn’t know for a long time. Flipped when he found out.”
Rocco’s expression was fathomless. Wasn’t it ironic that it was her evil father who’d helped him and his own evil step-father who’d helped her.
Both to spite the other, no doubt. There was no love lost between those two men.
She waited, wanting to see if he’d ask. If he wanted to ask. It had been so long—did he miss his mom?
“So now what?” Rocco switched the subject back to her.
Fair enough.
“I want to make it on my own,” she said simply. “If Logan can, I can.”
“Logan had support from Connor,” Rocco said.
“You made it on your own.”
“I had support from both Connor and Logan.”
And she didn’t have support from anyone.
He stabbed his steak but still didn’t bother actually eating it. “Why didn’t you run to your boyfriend?” he asked grumpily. “Where’s he in all this?”
She held back from taking her next bite. “What boyfriend?”
“Did you break his heart?” Rocco laughed a little bitterly. “I can imagine that.”
“You think I’d break his heart?” Danielle blinked. “No. I’ve never had a boyfriend.”
He looked at her. “No boyfriend at all? Never ever?”
She shook her head.
“So.” He paused.
She knew he was joining up the all too obvious dots.
“None of the usual boyfriend-girlfriend experiences either?”
She put down her fork. “Are you asking me if I’m a virgin?”
“Yeah,” he breathed out a sigh. “Are you?”
“Technically.”
“Technically?”
“I’ve fooled around a little… but yeah, I’ve never gone... all the way.”
He just stared at her.
“Oh for heaven’s sake,” she picked up her knife and fork and started sawing into what little remained of her dinner. “Don’t look like that.”
“How in the hell are you still a virgin?”
“We’re not all out shagging ski-bunnies from our early teens.”
“No? You missed out.” He chuckled. “But you’ve been on campus for over a year, right?”
“I wasn’t up for screwing my lecturer either. Or any of the guys in my classes.”
“Lecturer? Please tell me you’re joking.”
Mouth full, she shook her head.
“Why didn’t you want any of them? You like packaging, were they were all ugly?”
“It’s not all about looks,” she said. “I know what I want. And what I don’t want.”
“What don’t you want?”
“Some… fumble… some regret.”
“That was the fooling around?”
“It didn’t work for me.”
He shoved his plate away. “So what do you want?”
She paused for a moment, mentally debating. But she’d come this far, had been this honest. What was the point in holding back anything more? She was mature, right? Could talk about her emotions. Her needs. Her wants. She was mature enough to handle the fall out.
She lifted her head and met his steely black-eyed stare. “You.”
He sat utterly immobile for a long, long moment. Then he stood up from the table, turning away from her. “You can’t always get what you want.”
“I know that already.”
He drew in a breath. His body was tense, like every muscle was on alert. “Dani—”
“Don’t make this relevant.” Her shoulders sagged. Too freaking late.
“Of course it’s relevant.” He looked appalled.
“Why?”
“It just is.”
“What is it with guys and a girl’s virginity??
? She threw her hands up. “Either you’re all trying to get it on the instant you find out, or you’re running scared.”
“I’m not running scared.”
“Yes you are. You’re more freaked out than I’ve ever seen you.” She picked at the last potato with her fingers. “What do you think is going to happen? Oh…” she paused, nodding her head. “You’re afraid of the sight of blood?”
His expression hardened. “You know what, smart-ass, you think you’re so funny.” He stepped over to her, pressing his knuckles onto the table beside her. “But brace yourself, because here comes the truth. I don’t want to hurt you.”
She looked up at him.
“And I don’t just mean physically.” He leaned closer. “What happened before was… an accident.”
“An accident?” She mimicked him. “You feeling me up was an accident?”
Strain creased his forehead and he turned away from her again. “Dani. This makes a difference. You know it does. It’s not just age. It’s experience too. You’re lacking in both departments. It’s a combination I can’t take advantage of.”
“Even when I want you to? When I’m asking you to?”
He spun back to face her at a ‘safe’ distance in the center of the room. “It’s not fair on either of us.”
“Don’t. Don’t give me the excuses, the lines… Don’t give me the pity.” She spat the word at him. “Just give me some honesty. If you wanted, you’d take. It’s that simple. You don’t want.”