The Commanding Italian's Challenge

‘Are we leaving any time soon?’ Faye demanded, shattering his rumination.

But her bored tone belied the slight flaring of her nostrils and the budding awareness in her eyes that stated she wasn’t immune to the charged atmosphere between them.

‘After you,’ he drawled, not so irritated that he didn’t want to test the true mettle of her resistance. But only because it amused him. Nothing else. Certainly not because he wanted her closer. Wanted to decipher just what perfume she wore on her skin. The scent of her shampoo...

Like everything else in your life, she’s a temporary fixture. Remember that.

She hesitated for a moment. Then she slipped into the gap he’d created, avoiding his eyes as she passed him and moved into his assistant’s office.

Maceo’s hand tightened on the door as he took a breath. Then another. Cherry blossom and fresh peaches. An ordinary combination. And yet on her it was a scent he wanted to chase to the source. Linger on and savour.

Dio mio, what was wrong with him? Not even at the age of eighteen, the last time he’d been remotely hormonal around the opposite sex, had his libido wreaked such havoc on his senses. Hell, even then he’d been cynical about the attention he’d received—had known that the power and prestige of his name had largely contributed to the zealous flattery that had come his way.

In the years since becoming CEO that theory had been repeatedly proved. Not even his being married had deterred women. He’d been propositioned on a regular basis. And all it had achieved was a lingering distaste in his mouth, reinforcing his decision that not seeking pleasure of any sort was the right path.

That fortifying goal had been a flaming signpost he’d followed. It had instilled in him a loyalty and fidelity to Carlotta that hadn’t caused him a moment’s wavering, despite the true situation of their marriage. But now, for the first time, Maceo had experienced a shift in that foundation. Followed by the realisation that he hadn’t quite been able to drag his gaze from Faye’s smooth skin or the feline movement of her body as she strode away from him.

Basta!

Curtly, he informed his assistant of his plan to work from his villa office and headed for the lift. He would relocate Faye, ensure she was under appropriate guard, and then forget she existed.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, he seriously feared his jaw would snap in two as her phone emitted yet another ping. She ignored it—again—seeming perfectly content to stare out of the window as they travelled to the heliport, her fingers curled around the handle of her small suitcase.

‘Are you going to answer that?’ he snapped, his gaze shifting to the large bag that held her phone somewhere in its shapeless depths.

‘I will when I’m alone.’

Suspicion and intrigue built in him in equal measures, much to his annoyance. ‘Don’t hold back on my account. Surely any pertinent details I need to know, you’ve already apprised my HR department of?’

She studied him for a beat, then shrugged. ‘Good, then it shouldn’t bother you too much. Do we have far to go?’ she added, stoking his annoyance further.

‘We’ll be at the helipad in less than five minutes.’

Her eyes widened. ‘The heli—We’re going to the villa by helicopter?’

Maceo was surprised...and, yes, intrigued...by the curbed delight in her voice. ‘That’s one of the modes of transport I prefer, si.’

‘What’s the other mode?’

‘Speedboat.’

Her eyes grew rounder. Then she frowned. ‘I’ve been on neither. Apologies in advance if anything untoward happens.’

Against his will, his lips twitched. ‘Such as...?’

She shrugged again, drawing his eyes to the flowers dancing down one bare, shapely arm, to the delicate bones in her wrist. The tingling in his groin intensified. Grimly, he reeled himself in.

‘I’m okay with heights...for the most part...but I don’t know if I’ll feel sick or not. Is that a thing on helicopters?’

‘Motion sickness on helicopters is indeed a thing, si,’ he rasped. Then watched her pert little nose wrinkle.

‘Well, be warned, then. I guess seasickness is also a possibility. If I ever use your boat, that is.’

‘I’ll bear both in mind and keep the appropriate distance.’

‘It’s not too late to change your mind about inviting me to stay.’