This prompted Faye, just for a moment, to consider asking her about Luigi and Pietro, before dismissing the idea. All she’d be doing was inviting speculation.
In her opulent suite, her clothes had been unpacked and neatly put away in the large dressing room. French windows led onto a sprawling terrace and Faye’s breath caught all over again at the magnificent view.
Once the housekeeper had pointed out every luxurious amenity in the bedroom and sky-lit rainforest-themed bathroom, she smilingly enquired about Faye’s dinner plans.
Torn between asking about Maceo’s plans and remaining oblivious, she settled for a quiet dinner on her terrace. The view was too stunning to waste. And a few hours to get her head straight wouldn’t hurt either.
* * *
Dinner was a superb seafood salad, washed down with another fruit punch, after which Faye returned to her suite, took off the scarlet linen jumpsuit she’d travelled in and indulged herself for far too long beneath the powerful jets of the shower before sliding between seriously comfortable sheets.
She woke the next day to a message from Maceo that he would be in conference calls all morning and that she had the day to herself.
Faye refused to examine why the message left her hollow inside.
After a lazy breakfast, she powered up her laptop and re-read every report about Casa di Fiorenti’s St Lucia operation. Then she fired off an email to Alberto with some new flavour ideas.
Feeling her concentration wavering after that, she gave up, and slipped into a sun-yellow bikini and matching beach dress with a long slit that fell to her ankles.
Barefoot, she went downstairs to the pool. After confirming the time difference, she plucked her phone from her bag. She hadn’t spoken to her mother in a few days, and although she wasn’t worried about Angela Bishop’s well-being, she was suddenly dying to hear her mother’s voice.
Her call connected a minute later.
‘Hi, Mum? Are you okay?’ she asked, when a soft, mellow voice answered.
‘Of course I am, Faye. Why wouldn’t I be?’
A lump rose in her throat at the clear, lucid response. Her mother was having a good day.
‘I’m glad to hear it. What have you been up to?’ she asked, reclining on a lounger.
For the next twenty minutes Faye lost herself in her mother’s everyday life at New Paths, tossing in a few vague anecdotes of her own. But behind their exchange was the pain and sadness that always lingered.
Faye wasn’t aware she was crying until she felt the wetness on her cheeks. She struggled to pull herself together. The last thing she wanted to do was upset her mother with her silly tears.
She waited for a natural break in the conversation, then ended it with as much enthusiasm as she could muster.
She’d just tossed her phone onto the table beside her when a shadow loomed over her.
‘You’re distressed. Why?’ Maceo demanded tightly.
Faye blinked, struggling to get her emotions under control as he sauntered closer. ‘It’s nothing.’
‘I beg to disagree.’
She pressed her lips together. ‘I thought we weren’t meeting until later. Why are you here?’
He held out a glass and she realised that he’d come with refreshments.
‘It’s hot out here. I thought a drink might help,’ he stated, his gaze tracking her face. Yesterday’s easy humour was nowhere in the eyes that shamelessly dissected her expression.
She accepted the drink while trying to hide the feeling of vulnerability his presence elicited. ‘Thank you.’
He claimed the lounger next to hers, his gaze never leaving her face. ‘Tell me, or leave me to form several probably wildly inaccurate conclusions,’ he said, with a deceptive softness that didn’t hide his intent.
Faye dropped her eyes to her glass and then, fighting weakness, boldly returned his gaze. ‘Or you could leave it alone?’
‘We seem to have this conversation quite a lot, no?’