The Commanding Italian's Challenge
Hope dissolved into despair and Faye couldn’t even find the strength to be angry. ‘Another lie?’ she rasped.
‘No. But I didn’t think you were in a frame of mind to hear the truth before.’
‘That’s how you intend to justify withholding this from me?’
His jaw clenched. ‘This is how you choose to end things, Faye? With accusations?’
‘I didn’t end this, Maceo. You did.’
Slowly that formidable façade locked in, his statue-like hauteur erasing every trace of emotion from his face.
‘Go, then. Don’t let me stop you.’
She snatched the letter. And left.
* * *
Maceo stood in one corner of the conference room, attempting to block out the buzz of excitement growing steadily behind him. Casa di Fiorenti hadn’t had a new product launch in two years. It stood to reason his shareholders were thrilled at the prospect of a new range.
Alberto and his team had pulled out all the stops to preview the Arcobaleno range in only six short weeks. His ambition to push it through production in time for Christmas was well on track too.
Maceo didn’t care. These days he cared very little about anything. Except for the excruciating passage of time.
Six weeks.
A lifetime since she walked out of his study. He’d laboured under the misapprehension that relocating to his office at his Rome headquarters might solve the problem of seeing her face around every corner—that returning to his penthouse apartment in the heart of his favourite city might erase the memories of her that haunted Villa Serenita.
But no.
Everywhere he went he saw her.
His staff offered pitying looks while his employees scurried away when they saw him coming. And why shouldn’t they? He was intolerable to be around.
Not even the satisfaction of pushing his lawyers to find the loophole that had enabled him to finally toss Carlotta’s brothers off the board had eased the savage ache inside him.
Several times he reached for the phone. Each time he lost his nerve.
Maceo laughed under his breath. He’d been through a car accident, a coma, months of intense rehabilitation, only to be cowed by the rejection of a diminutive woman with rainbow colours in her hair?
Arcobaleno.
His insides twisted at the name that suited her from head to toe. He was certain he wouldn’t be able to see another rainbow without being reminded of Faye.
Should he have stopped her from leaving? How could he when she was right?
He’d withheld crucial information about who she was. He’d devastated her as surely as his own parents had devastated him. And so soon after she’d delivered him from his dark torment. For that alone he deserved this suffering.
‘Signor...?’ Alberto addressed him hesitantly. ‘They’re waiting for you to make a speech.’
Too bad. He was fresh out of congratulatory speeches. The only talking he wanted to do was to the woman who’d left an indelible mark on him. The woman without whom he was beginning to fear he would perish and fade away to nothing.
He stared into the glass of vintage champagne he hadn’t touched, attempting to summon words that held genuine meaning. Each one felt flat and false. Hell, even the weather was conspiring against him.
In the square below, tourists milled about, huddled together or seeking shelter from the sudden downpour that had caught them unawares. Like him, they’d expected sunshine, only to be greeted with grey clouds.
He lifted his gaze, glared at the clouds. Just then they parted. By the smallest fraction. But it was enough to let through a stream of sunshine. And within that sunshine...
Maceo’s heart tripped over as he caught sight of the faintest rainbow.