The Commanding Italian's Challenge

Hindsight might be wonderful, but it was also cruel.

In raining judgement on his parents for harbouring the secret that had altered the very foundation of his beliefs, and shattered the pedestal on which they stood, he hadn’t stopped to consider the consequence of his actions.

That he’d found out too late.

Now he had to live with the knowledge that his parents’ carefully laid plans, their hopes and dreams for themselves and for him, had been destroyed because of him. Because of the implacable stance he’d taken when a cooler head and more flexibility might have saved him from this desolate path. The shame and guilt that rightly prevented him from contemplating any semblance of famiglia, or even a relationship for himself, were of his own making.

He had no one to blame but himself.

Grimly grounded by that reminder, he clicked open Faye’s file.

His eyes narrowed, a tiny bolt of surprise charging through him as he perused her higher education history. She had a degree in sociology and business, achieved at the top of her class. And yet she chose to waste her time on a farm?

Beyond that there was nothing that should have prompted the tension she’d shown over filling in these forms. Yet it had been present.

Maceo paused when he reached her personal details, a hot wave curling though him as his gaze lingered on the marital status box she’d ticked: none.

None didn’t mean unattached.

And it certainly didn’t matter to him one way or the other.

He’d deprived his parents and Carlotta and Luigi of lifelong relationships, of decades of reaping the benefits of their hard work. Who was he to contemplate his own pleasure? A liaison? Or, heaven forbid, a relationship?

Jaw clenched, he dragged his gaze through the rest of the document.

Altogether, her history was unremarkable. And yet Faye Bishop was anything but... She was a deceptive little flame and she burned far hotter than her outward appearance implied. Was that why Carlotta had made him promise to test her before honouring her bequest? Because she’d experienced Faye’s uniqueness for herself?

Basta!

He was spinning tales where there were none.

Rising, he strolled to his window, hoping for a distraction. But not even the arresting view could replace a certain fairy-resembling creature with tiny claws, a sharp tongue...and a voluptuous body he couldn’t quite erase from his memory banks.

But he hadn’t battled the twin demons of guilt and shame on a daily basis without growing calluses. Summoning his iron will, he returned to his desk and for the next four hours successfully dismissed Faye Bishop from his thoughts.

* * *

An email from his lawyers confirming that Stefano and Francesco intended to contest their sister’s will only roused in him amused anticipation. He’d hoped they would. Now he would ensure they walked away with nothing.

Maceo was contemplating his next move when the knock on his door came. His initial instinct to dismiss the unwanted visitor vanished when Faye Bishop’s low, husky voice announced herself.

‘Come.’ His voice sounded thick, loaded with anticipation. Which irritated him endlessly.

Not enough to rescind his invitation, though.

He sat back and watched her enter, looking as colourful and unruffled as she’d been a few hours ago. Dios, she was even smiling—albeit at Bruno, his assistant, who smiled back before, catching Maceo’s scowl, he hastily shut the door behind her.

The moment her gaze connected with Maceo’s, her smile evaporated. He shifted again, his irritation increasing along with that pressure in his groin as she swayed in that ridiculous skirt towards him.

She stopped in front of his desk. He didn’t invite her to sit.

‘I’m done with HR,’ she stated, after a moment of silence he didn’t feel inclined to break.

‘The experience wasn’t too harrowing, I hope?’

She shrugged. ‘It was what it was.’

Maceo just