The Commanding Italian's Challenge
Everything that had happened between them from the moment she’d arrived in Italy was beginning to make a devastating sort of sense. This was never going to be an emotionless interlude. Even without the sex, Maceo had affected her on a deep, visceral level.
Gradually, that irritating little niggle she’d felt at the dinner table unveiled itself.
She didn’t want to leave Italy. Not just yet. And it had nothing to do with her stepfather or Carlotta or anything she’d learned so far.
/> She wanted to stay because of Maceo.
The thought terrified her more than anything had terrified her in a long time. And yet still she stayed in his arms. And when he woke an hour later and slanted her that brooding look in the dark she melted straight into him.
Because her foolish heart didn’t know any better.
* * *
Ghana was sublime. A sprawling metropolis in parts. A verdant jungle paradise within half an hour of leaving the capital, Accra. Sitting just above the equator, it was humid during the day and cool in the evening. But what took Faye’s breath away was the sudden majesty of its thunderstorms. They arrived with tremendous force, shook the world and drenched everything in sight within seconds.
From her vantage point in the world’s most spectacular tree house, in the middle of the Ashanti Region’s jungle, she marvelled at the green lushness around her. Everywhere she looked cocoa trees swayed with gentle grandeur for miles, in the rich landscape she’d explored twice over since their arrival two days ago.
Faye had learned every little thing about the precious cocoa bean—especially the new variety of rose-pink bean that was setting the confectionery world alight. But, more than that, she’d collected samples of the indigenous fruits of Ghana and intended to add them to Alberto’s collection.
Thoughts of returning to Naples brought apprehension. Somewhere between St Lucia and Ghana, Faye had talked herself into letting this thing ride out in its own time. It might end tomorrow. It might end the day she left Italy. The only certainty was that it would end.
Maceo hadn’t mentioned the job offer again. And, as much as she told herself she was fine with that, her chest tightened every time she contemplated her inevitable departure.
In other ways, her emotions had been soothed. Maceo’s insistence on Luigi’s integrity had left her with the belief that her stepfather hadn’t forgotten about her. She only wished he’d found time to explain his desertion in the years before his death.
But dwelling in the past was futile. She didn’t begrudge him the happiness he’d found.
Would she find a love like that some day?
Her heart lurched when her thoughts immediately zeroed in one specific figure. A strong, formidable Italian who, as if she’d summoned him by thought alone, now slid his arms around her waist.
To disguise his effect on her, and to stop herself thinking that in mere weeks she would leave and possibly never see him again, she jerked her chin at the spectacular theatre of the raging storm. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it.’
‘Si, it’s magnificent, isn’t it?’
‘The foreman, Kojo, says it can last several weeks.’
Maceo’s chin nudged the top of her head. ‘It’s why I prefer to come at this time. If I had to choose between thunderstorms and the mosquitoes in the latter months of the year, I’d choose this.’
Faye smiled, even though she remained a mess inside. ‘Are you saying you’re afraid of a few mosquitoes?’
His lips twisted in a half-smile. ‘I prefer to battle opponents that don’t sneak up on me in their attacks,’ he said.
Before she could respond his arms dropped, and he walked back into the tree house.
Made up of two large, opulent rooms, divided into living and sleeping areas, it was built into the branches of a giant wawa tree, with the actual walls of the tree house made of the same wood. Locally made rugs covered the floors and walls, and an embroidered throw with a cocoa theme covered the king-sized bed. Off the side of the bedroom was a rainforest shower and bathroom, and adjoining the living room an alcove with a large desk that Maceo had commandeered.
Faye watched him go, rubbing her arms to stop the cold shiver that had nothing to do with the rapidly cooling temperature. She stopped herself from following, and on impulse headed into the bedroom. She hadn’t checked on her mother since leaving St Lucia, and for some unknown reason she felt her heart lodge in her throat as she dialled her number.
She hadn’t decided when to tell her mother about her inheritance. They hadn’t spoken about Luigi, the man she’d been so briefly married to, in years, and Faye wondered sometimes if her mother had succeeded in forgetting him. Regardless of that, Faye knew she’d have to tell her eventually.
The call crackled, and when her mother came on the line it grew progressively patchy. Eventually Faye gave up, with a promise to call back, and looked up to find Maceo leaning in the doorway. Even though she’d revealed her darkest secrets to him, she still tensed. Had he overheard her conversation?
‘I didn’t mean to disturb you,’ she said, trying to read his face.
He shrugged. ‘I came to suggest you wait until the storm is over because the connection will be bad.’
She nodded. ‘I sort of got that.’