The Commanding Italian's Challenge

A muscle leapt in his cheek. ‘Ripeto. Repeat that.’

‘Please—’

He held up a halting hand. ‘You plead understanding for something you haven’t explained.’

She folded her arms around her middle to stop the cold seeping into her veins from taking hold. ‘You’re better off not knowing! Please trust me. I don’t think your first time should be with someone like me.’

His nostrils flared. ‘Why not?’

‘Because you’ll regret it.’

‘That tells me absolutely nothing. Do better.’

‘I’m...damaged.’

He turned still as stone and his skin lost colour. ‘How?’

She couldn’t form the words, so she shook her head.

‘No,’ he refuted icily. ‘You don’t get to hold back now. Secrets and subterfuge shattered my family. Whatever it is you believe you’re shielding me from, I want it out in the open.’

Ice shrouded her heart. ‘You don’t. Please, Maceo. I’m not worth it.’

He gave no quarter. ‘I will be the judge of that—not you. Tell me.’

She darted her gaze across the deck and beyond, for a wild moment wondering if she could throw herself overboard, swim away until the waters sucked her under. Because surely oblivion would be better than the unshakeable knowledge that she would prove him wrong? That nothing could compare to the repugnant truth she’d guarded so zealously since Matt’s heart-wrenching reaction?

‘Look at me, Faye.’

Breath shuddering, she met his burning gaze.

‘There’s no escape from this.’

The sharp edge to his words made her wonder if he meant it literally. Had this been his plan all along? Bring her aboard his magical yacht, set a scene straight from a spellbinding dream and... And what? Show her what she couldn’t have?

If so, he’d succeeded. She’d delved beneath the formidable exterior to the heart of the man. And what she’d discovered made her yearn harder for him than before, when this had been purely a physical reaction.

And, because she’d seen him, she owed him the truth buried in her heart.

Her heart dropped to her churning stomach as she forced out words. ‘Twenty-six years ago my mother lived in London. She was training to be a nurse, but worked part-time as a waitress. She preferred working the posh parties because they paid better.’ Faye dragged her hands up and down her arms to stop the shivering. ‘One night she stayed late to clean up and...and one of the male guests attacked her. He...he tied her up, blindfolded her and assaulted her.’

‘Mio Dio...’ Maceo whispered on a stunned breath, then stepped towards her. ‘Faye—’

‘No! Let me finish. Please.’

His fists bunched but he nodded.

‘The attack was traumatising, and she dropped out of school. Three months later she found out that her rapist hadn’t just taken from her. He’d left her with a permanent reminder.’

She forced herself to meet Maceo’s gaze. She knew what was coming and she refused to hide from it.

‘He left her pregnant. With me.’

Maceo’s face drained of all colour as a wave of visible shock washed over him. Before it could take full hold, before the accompanying horror, disgust and, worst of all, that nanosecond of weighing up which way to go—whether it was worth bluffing his way through his revulsion or fully revealing it—she turned and fled.

‘Faye!’

His voice wa