The Commanding Italian's Challenge
‘Perhaps not. But I find myself needing to ensure that no other man sees you like this.’
The low, terse revelation, writhing with possessiveness, detonated between them, rendering them both immobile and unable to do anything but stare, aghast, at each other. Or at least Faye was certain that was how she was looking at him. Because the stormy emotions coursing through her made her want to fling herself at him, regardless of the words coming out of his mouth.
‘Chauvinist, much?’ she snapped.
He let her indictment bounce off his broad shoulders without so much as a wince. ‘I care very little about how I appear, cara. I care very much about returning you to the villa, pronto, before you take off another item of clothing.’
Faye got the impression that he wasn’t going to budge from her office. And, much to her dismay, she discovered she wanted to go with him. Wanted to remain in his company despite the wild sizzle and crackle between them. Despite the fact that her body was still caught in a maelstrom of sensations, the epicentre of which was the super-sensitive budding of her nipples and the flames licking through her pelvis.
Despite every inch of him proclaiming the danger of remaining for one more second in his company, she slipped her shaky feet into her high heels and caught up her bag. ‘Okay. Let’s go.’
He caught her wrist in his large hand and led her to his private lift. Downstairs, as if he’d commanded it by telepathy, the few employees working late stayed well clear of them. When they reached his speedboat, Maceo barely acknowledged the pilot’s greeting.
He planted himself in front of her, shielding her from the view of his driver, his wide body blocking out the worst of the breeze. He continued to keep hold of her arm, his gaze never once straying from her face.
‘So...your choices?’ he asked stiffly after a minute, barely raising his voice.
She looked up. His gaze caught hers and held it captive. Breathless, she watched it linger, hot and hungry, on her lips before dropping to her chest.
A shocking phenomenon occurred just then.
Far from folding her arms to hide his effect on her, Faye retained her pose, felt her breasts suddenly heavy and needy, her hands dangling by her sides as she sorted through her thoughts to answer his question. Choices... Site visits...
‘Oh...um... St Lucia. And Ghana.’
He nodded. ‘We’ll leave this weekend—after the party.’
Under different circumstances she would have reeled at the novelty of everything that had happened in the last few weeks—her inheritance, the luxurious splendour of the villa, the job she found herself enjoying more with each day...hell, even her new clothes. But, while she’d known from the first that Maceo Fiorenti was a formidable man, the almost conceited way he wielded his power continually left her slack-jawed—not that he’d noticed, since he
pretty much did as he pleased with little regard for anyone else.
‘How long will we be gone?’ she asked, struggling to handle yet another twist in this roller coaster.
His gaze sharpened, his sensual lips momentarily flattening. ‘Ten days—perhaps more. Already missing your clubbing friends?’
‘Believe it or not, I do have people who’re interested in my travel plans.’
His hard look eased. ‘Your parents?’
She sucked in a breath, then reminded herself that Maceo didn’t know her history. ‘My mother.’
‘And your father? Is he—’
‘Not in the picture. Never has been. Never will be,’ she insisted, but that sickening sensation gripped her gut so tightly she had to force herself to breathe carefully through it or risk giving herself away.
She didn’t notice that goosebumps had broken out on her flesh until his hands slid up and down her arms in a contemplative caress. A different sort of shiver assailed her then, almost but not quite nudging that sickening feeling aside.
‘Such a strong reaction—’
‘And entirely none of your business,’ she injected forcefully, hoping he’d drop the subject.
Thankfully he did, although his gaze raked her face repeatedly before he lifted a hand to tuck a coil of runaway hair behind her ear.
Perhaps it was relief and gratitude that made her turn into his touch. Or perhaps she’d taken complete leave of her senses tonight.
Whatever it was, she gasped when he cupped her cheek, his hand hot and possessive and electrifying enough to make her pulse race faster.
‘Faye?’