The Commanding Italian's Challenge

Fighting more tears, Faye leaned over and kissed her mother. Then she rose from the table.

She was going to London.

* * *

Maceo clenched his fists, impatience bristling through him as he paced his living room. He was reduced to voyeurism—a silent participant watching Faye via the monitor in his penthouse while his lawyers took their sweet time securing her signature.

He’d given them carte blanche to offer her whatever she wanted, but evidently his instruction that the transaction should be conducted in the shortest possible time hadn’t quite sunk in.

He was half a second from picking up the phone when they finished. The moment they left, Bruno escorted Faye to the lift. Maceo was waiting when the doors parted on the penthouse floor thirty seconds later.

She was facing away from him, wearing a coral concoction, with bangles to match and a similar colour threaded through her hair, and he welcomed the much-needed moment to compose himself.

Then she turned, her breath catching when she saw him. Mio Dio, she was beautiful.

‘Maceo! I thought you weren’t... What am I doing up here?’

‘I wish to talk to you.’

‘Then why weren’t you downstairs with your lawyers?’

Because I’m a damn mess.

‘Because I didn’t want business to muddle this.’

‘And what is “this,” exactly?’ she enquired, raising her chin.

‘Would you like to come in? Per favore,’ he pleaded.

Her gaze flicked past him into the penthouse and Maceo caught the slightest wobble in her chin. It was the tiniest chink in her armour, b

ut he found himself praying it was a sign that all wasn’t lost.

She walked past him, head held high. He followed, his heart racing as her alluring scent reminded him of its absence on his pillow.

She reached the sofa and turned to face him. ‘Tell me why I’m here.’

‘Because, my beautiful rainbow, I’m a desperate man, here to plead my case,’ he stated baldly.

She reached out blindly, clutched the back of the sofa.

Maceo exhaled, his prayers intensifying. She wasn’t immune to him.

‘We said everything we had to say to one another in Italy,’ she said.

‘Did we? Are you absolutely certain I can’t say more?’

‘Depends on what the subject matter is.’

Unable to keep his distance, he took a few steps towards her. She didn’t retreat. Another mercy.

‘You were right, cara.’

‘About...?’ she queried, her eyes filming with a pain he would give his limbs to erase.

‘About how I handled everything. Regardless of my feelings on the matter, I should’ve given you the information you needed for your own closure. My conceit made me believe mine was the right way. I hurt you, Faye. And I’m here to say...mi dispiace. I am also here to make amends.’

Something close to disappointment crossed her face. ‘Is that all you’re here for?’