The Commanding Italian's Challenge

Shock propelled her legs to obey. She sank into the seat, and in the moment before he spoke again her gaze darted to the lawyers, noting their solemn looks.

‘Now, let’s pretend you really have no clue who I am—’

‘I don’t. I’m not sure why that’s so unfathomable to you, but I haven’t the foggiest idea who you are.’

He stared at her for another long, tight stretch. Then he leaned forward. ‘My name is Maceo Fiorenti.’

The surname was familiar. Painfully so. She’d blocked it out of her life—albeit unsuccessfully, because of its sheer size and success—because of its association with Luigi.

‘I’m assuming that you’re in some way connected to Casa di Fiorenti?’

The lawyers exchanged stunned glances.

‘You could say that. But I am also... I was also connected to Carlotta.’

In her emails, Carlotta had signed off as Carlotta Caprio-Fiorenti. Faye hadn’t given the Fiorenti attachment much thought. Now she did, with a peculiar feeling dragging in her stomach.

The man across the conference table was too old to be Carlotta’s son, so he could only be—

Faye felt her jaw gaping again and caught herself. ‘You’re Carlotta’s husband?’ Why did that knowledge send sharp pangs through her chest? ‘But you’re—’ She stopped, bit her lip to cut off the rest of her words.

One masculine brow lifted in mocking query. ‘I’m what, Miss Bishop? Too young? A toy boy, as you refer to it in your country? Don’t be afraid to speak up. You won’t be saying anything the media haven’t attempted to dissect a million ways.’

Heat flared up her neck, since she’d been about to say exactly that. Carlotta had been in her late-fifties, while Maceo Fiorenti looked at least thirty years younger.

But this wasn’t why she was here. Heck, she was still in the dark as to the reason for her presence in this room. With this man who fascinated her far more than she should allow him to.

‘Your relationship with Carlotta is none of my business, I’m sure. And now we’re properly introduced, perhaps you could enlighten me as to why I’m here?’

‘I’m CEO of Casa di Fiorenti and one hundred percent shareholder of this company. Or at least I thought I was until a week ago.’

Faye frowned. ‘What does that mean?’

He leaned forward, and every instinct urged her to retreat. She held her ground. Because to appear weak would be to grant him victory.

‘It means that my late wife informed me that Luigi—I’m assuming you do know who he is?’ he drawled.

She steeled herself against the pain that should have dulled after all this time, but curiously hadn’t. ‘Of course.’

‘Meraviglioso,’ he said sarcastically. ‘My late wife informed me that Luigi had requested that, should he pass away before you turned twenty-five, Carlotta pass on a bequest in her will or when you reached that age. I take it you celebrated your birthday recently?’

Faye nodded absently. ‘Three months ago.’ Then she caught her breath. ‘That’s when Carlotta first contacted me. But...why didn’t she tell me?’

‘Did you give her the chance? Or did you repeatedly rebuff her attempts to reach out to you?’ he asked.

She suspected he knew the answer. Guilt flushed through her, but she refused to cower. ‘I had my reasons.’

Pain. Betrayal. The stigma of shame that had never gone away. The anxiety of not knowing why Luigi had left and never looked back but had seemingly kept tabs on her.

‘No one can love an abomination like you...’

Matt’s words echoed in her head, intensifying the anguish. In truth, she’d succeeded in partially silencing the why of Luigi’s desertion until those damning words. Now she feared she would never move on. Not until she knew if Luigi had felt the same way.

‘Ah, but you didn’t feel strongly enough about those reasons to stay away because you’d “made a promise,” si?’

Far from being needled by his determination to get under her skin, Faye forced herself to sit back. To smile and shrug. ‘It’s obvious you think I have an agenda, so let’s dispense with the rhetorical questions and get on with it, shall we? I have...’ She made a show of checking the time on the clock before settling her gaze somewhere over his shoulder. From the corner of her eye, she saw his jaw clench. ‘I have about half a day’s sightseeing before I go back to my hotel.’

Terse silence greeted her. His tawny gaze compelled her. Unable to resist, Faye found herself looking into eyes that held what looked like grief. She couldn’t be sure because it had disappeared a second later. What didn’t disappear was the guilt that assailed her.