The Commanding Italian's Challenge

‘The company was yours too. Didn’t they come after you?’

‘I happened to be...indisposed at the time.’

‘Indisposed?’

His lips twisted. ‘The small matter of being in a coma and unable to defend myself.’

She paled and sucked in a sharp breath. ‘You were in a coma?’

Maceo was surprised the office gossips hadn’t already divulged that information.

‘Oh, my God, Maceo...’

Did she know she’d clutched his arm? That her grip tightened by the second? A throb of guilty pleasure beat through him along with the shame, because he liked her touch far too much to tell her. To remind himself why he shouldn’t allow it.

‘How—’ She gasped as enlightenment arrived. ‘You were in the same accident?’ she whispered.

‘Si, I was.’ Something moved through him—an awakening of that deep pain. That profound regret. And the guilt. Always the guilt.

‘What...? How did you survive?’

He shrugged. ‘According to witnesses, I was thrown clear too, before the car went off the road. I wasn’t as lucky as Carlotta, though. I suffered head injuries and slipped into a coma.’

One he hadn’t come out of for over a year.

Her breath emerged shakily. He wanted to devour it. To absorb every ounce of emotion she could spare, hoard it like a miser for those dark days ahead when the reality that he was truly alone threatened to drive him insane.

Did he deserve even that? No, he didn’t. And yet he couldn’t help himself.

‘Does your heart grow soft for me, cara?’ he queried, yearning for another morsel to take his mind off his bleak future.

She exhaled, another shaky breath that drew him like a siren song. ‘I’d be heartless not to feel for anyone who goes through something like that.’

‘But I’m not “anyone”, am I, Faye?’

Several expressions chased across her face, charged by the dark magic that weaved around them. ‘No, you’re not. But you deserve the same consideration.’

Her attempt to put him in his place unsettled him. ‘Is that all I deserve?’ he pressed, giving in to the urge to stroke that smooth, silky cheek, to brush his thumb over lips that tasted as sweet as he suspected heaven tasted.

He knew he should stop. Knew he was letting himself down. But, mio Dio, this woman made him weak. And he’d been fighting for so long...

He’d never attributed any lofty connotations to his sexual circumstances. The decision he’d taken over a decade ago had been rooted in loyalty and the need to honour his parents’ memory. He’d vowed not to chase pleasure or contentment when his parents lay dead because he’d acted as judge, jury and executioner.

Nothing had changed. His demons raged as virulently as ever, demanding his continued sacrifice. So why was denying himself now so challenging? Why, for the first time in a decade, did he want to fall short of his own goals?

‘I’m not sure how...what you mean...’

‘Aren’t you?’

‘Maceo...’

He parried. She retreated.

Their silent little dance had led them behind a larger cypress tree, farther away from curious eyes. Capturing her soft nape, lowering his head and taking those luscious lips with his in that moment felt deliciously simple. And yet life-altering in a way that shook through him.

She moaned and clung harder to him. The sweet sound of her whimper tore a reciprocal sound from within him—a vocal manifestation of the hunger clawing through him. A hunger she’d stoked from the first moment he’d set eyes on her. A hunger he knew deep in his bones would be just as tough to wrestle as his demons.

Later. When this temporary madness h