The Commanding Italian's Challenge
Whereas Maceo seemed to harbour zero qualms about how things had ended.
There’d been no censure, just a long, sizzling, assessing look at the breakfast table. Since then she’d caught him staring contemplatively at her. It wasn’t so much as if he was trying to work her out. It was more an inkling that he was already halfway to plundering the heart of her secret.
But from the moment they’d taken off, the powerful CEO had resumed his role. He’d been all about Casa di Fiorenti business, apprising her of their itinerary, which included sailing to two plantations via his yacht. She’d questioned the use of that mode of transport, to be curtly informed that it was so he could travel and work at the same time.
A part of her envied his skilful ability to proceed as normal, while the major part revisited the incident in her suite for the hundredth time.
Yes, she’d disgracefully jumped him. And, yes, the torrid kiss had been sublime. But Faye had become increasingly preoccupied with the conversation after she’d pulled the brakes.
The subtext had seemed...monumental. The look on Maceo’s face had been an arresting tableau of regret, guilt, pain and fury. Just what had happened to him? And why couldn’t she put the incident out of her mind?
As if triggered by the unasked question, his laser-powered gaze flicked to her and she realised he’d spoken. ‘I’m sorry, what?’
One sardonic eyebrow lifted. ‘We have arrived. I’d leave you to your daydreaming, but I don’t think you’d appreciate the heat once I turn the engine off. So...are you coming?’
‘Of course I’m—’ She looked past him to the structure they’d parked in front of, and was thrown into yet another realm of awe.
‘Dear God, do the Fiorentis do anything approaching normal?’
‘I don’t quite catch your meaning,’ he replied, plucking his sunglasses off to slip them into his pocket.
Her gaze darted back to him, her face flaming when she realised she’d spoken out loud. Brazening it out, she flicked a hand at the jaw-dropping house basking in the late-afternoon golden sunlight. ‘I mean this...this impossible dream of a house.’
‘I take it you like it?’ he enquired drolly.
She snorted. ‘That’s like asking a racing car driver if he likes speed.’
One corner of the mouth she’d become intimately acquainted with last night lifted, lending him a rakish, almost boyish look that softened the dark edges of his demeanour. Heat swirled through her belly as two things struck her—firstly, that she’d never seen him truly smile, and secondly that she was terrified to contemplate the damage such an expression from Maceo would cause a woman.
‘Then I hope it’ll tempt you to exit before this vehicle turns into a furnace.’
He alighted, and then, to her surprise, came around to open her door. The teasing smile was widening, triggering a curious mixture of excitement and despair, which intensified the moment she stepped out and inhaled his scent.
Memories of that scent on his hard body plastered passionately against hers immediately took centre stage in her thoughts, then reeled forward through graphic possibilities of what might have happened if they hadn’t stopped.
‘I’ve lost you again. Should I be offended? Or flattered?’ he asked.
‘Flattered?’ she echoed hazily.
‘Your expression gives you away. But, truly, there’s no crime in reliving a unique moment.’
‘You must be speaking metaphorically, or something, because I see no crime whatsoever in calling a halt after a foolish decision.’
To her absolute dismay, he smiled with genuine amusement. It utterly transformed his face. A true fallen angel with a wicked streak. His smile promised all sorts of devilish delight. Faye felt her jaw dropping and scrambled to right that wrong.
‘We’re two level-minded adults, cara. With needs that seem programmed to lead us in one direction, whether we wish to go or not,’ he rasped, his voice a little rough and a lot disturbing.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
Why on earth was her voice quivering? She wasn’t some quaking maiden. She had one experience and its devastating aftermath to her name. And a vow to ensure no more were added to it.
A vow she’d almost broken last night.
A vow she risked now, standing here in the shadow of Maceo’s towering frame, getting lost in the accented timbre of his voice and the spellbinding paradise around them.
‘It means, whether we like it or not, this thing needs to be a
ddressed.’