Immediate rejection of that idea hardened in his gut. ‘We will not rehash a matter that is already settled.’
‘On your head be it,’ she replied, in that tart little voice.
It promised barbs. Ones he felt peculiarly compelled to test, to stroke, to see how deeply they’d cut. It was a sensation that made him relieved to see they were approaching the helipad.
Relief morphed into intrigue when she alighted next to him and stared, stupefied, at the large aircraft that bore his family’s logo.
‘Good God, it’s huge!’
Was it? He’d never given it a moment’s thought. These days he occupied himself with safety rather than size, and he employed the best to ensure that no harm came to the things he cared about.
Up until a week ago it had been Carlotta. Now it was just Casa di Fiorenti. His own actions had ensured that.
The hollow ache expanded, the demons beginning to howl in glee.
You survived. Now you’re alone. As you should be.
Exhaling around the tightness in his chest, he strove for calm. ‘I suppose it is,’ he drawled
, once again disturbingly compelled by the emotions chasing across her face. ‘Is that a problem?’
‘Beyond making me think you’re compensating for something with the size of your...equipment? Not at all.’
For the first time in a long time Maceo found himself mildly astonished by a woman’s forthrightness. The fact that it brought further acute attention to his manhood and a battering to the vow he’d taken stunned him into stillness.
He clenched his jaw. Pleasure and companionship weren’t on the cards for him. And even if they were it wouldn’t be with this woman who stared at him, her gaze daring, while the sunlight danced in her rainbow hair and sparked her indigo eyes.
‘Forgive me if I’ve broached a touchy subject.’
Maceo strode toward his aircraft. ‘Don’t insult either of us. Your patently false tone neither begs forgiveness nor concedes sensitivity. As for the slur on my manhood—I don’t feel the slightest inclination to prove you wrong.’
She arrived next to him just as a blush suffused her face. The gaze that had held his so blatantly a moment ago shifted away.
‘A word of advice, dolcezza. Don’t take on the big dogs if you blush so easily. Trust me, I will outlast you on any given day.’
With that, he held out his hand. After a tense moment, she took it.
Maceo helped her into the helicopter and refused to examine why he’d used his direct line to instruct his pilot to take extra care to make the journey smooth. Most likely because he wasn’t in the mood for further aggravation from her.
The moment they took off he busied himself answering emails and catching up on further business. Only to glance at her when she gasped.
‘Is that the villa?’ A sleek finger pointed in the general direction of Villa Serenita.
With a sigh, he slid his phone back into his pocket. ‘Si.’
‘It’s...breathtaking,’ she whispered, her fingers braced against the glass as if caressing his home from afar.
He shifted in his seat. ‘A genuine compliment?’ he observed drily. ‘I’m dumbfounded.’
She didn’t respond. It was as if his residence had rendered her speechless.
He took the unexpected moment to see Villa Serenita through her eyes. The circumstances of his life thus far had impressed upon him the need not to take things for granted, the knowledge that one reality could be ripped from him to be replaced by another vastly less palatable but, if Maceo were honest, the place where he laid his head at night had stopped registering in the maelstrom of guilt and shame that had become his everyday life.
Now, as the chopper banked, he looked down at the villa his grandparents had built. The villa his parents had poured their hearts and souls into making a home while harbouring secrets that would shake its very foundation. The place where he himself had taken a stand that had destroyed everything.
‘How old is it?’ she asked.
Her tone conveyed genuine interest. ‘It was a mere shell when my grandparents bought it, over seventy years ago, but the building is over two hundred years old. They kept to the original baroque style, but added their personal touch over the years.’