by Maya Blake
Pain twisted deep and she clutched the armrests tighter to hold it inside.
‘No need to look so concerned, Faye. A hard day’s work never killed anyone, as far as I know,’ Maceo drawled, shattering her anguished thoughts.
She raised her chin. ‘Save your insults, signor. I’m not afraid of hard work. As a matter of fact, you can put me to work immediately. The sooner I’m done here, the sooner we can be rid of each other.’
The triumphant gleam in his tawny eyes made the hairs on her nape quiver. And, after a beat, he once again helped himself to a scrutiny of her. A shiver flowed down from her neck, encompassing her body with a hot, electric awareness that left her peculiarly breathless.
‘Curb your enthusiasm. I cannot, as you say, put you to work. Casa di Fiorenti has a professional reputation to safeguard. That includes a strict dress code in which you currently fall woefully short. And, as you weren’t planning on being in Naples more than a day or two, I doubt you have the right attire to work anywhere besides your beloved farm,’ he stated drily.
Her flush deepened but she refused to lower her gaze. While her taste in clothes was consciously individual, and she appreciated it didn’t suit a corporate environment, she wasn’t about to turn herself inside out to please this man.
‘I’ll accommodate your dress code...but only up to a point. I’m not changing who I am to suit anyone.’ She gave herself an inner high-five when her voice emerged firm and strong.
His wry, twisted smile suggested he found her comment amusing. ‘We’re affiliated with several fashion houses. The HR department will ensure they’re made available to you when you’ve filled out the appropriate forms.’
She tensed. ‘What forms?’
Hooded eyes fixed more tightly on her. ‘The usual employment forms. That will suffice.’
Faye forced herself to breathe out slowly. ‘Is that necessary?’
Maceo’s eyes narrowed. ‘You must be aware how suspicious that sounds? How large are the skeletons in your closet, Miss Bishop?’
‘How large are yours?’ she threw back. ‘You’re the one insisting on this unnecessary assessment before you give me what’s legally mine. I won’t bare my life to you just so you feel better about doing whatever it is you’re doing.’
He remained completely unfazed, leaning forward until the wide breadth of his shoulders filled her vision. ‘You will give me your word that nothing in your background will embarrass me or my company.’
Ice engulfed her whole body, trapping her in her seat when all she wanted to do was jump up and flee those piercing eyes intent on digging beneath her skin. On baring the dark secrets she’d been forced to live with from birth.
‘The only promise I’ll make you is that I’m committed and hard-working. You have no right to make any other demands of me. Take it or leave it. But be warned: I won’t simply disappear until you decide to honour Luigi and Carlotta’s wishes.’
It was a wild bluff and she held her breath, hoping he wouldn’t call her on it. He was the billionaire CEO of a staggeringly successful company, with all the clout and power that came with the position. She knew his legal team would chew her up and spit her out without so much as breaking a sweat should Maceo lift that haughty eyebrow to indicate they should do so.
Something hard and seasoned flickered in his gaze, making him appear much older than he was. As if he’d lived lifetimes and possessed harrowing tales to tell. Would those tales have anything to do with why he’d married Carlotta? Or explain that rabid mob of paparazzi downstairs?
Far from retreating from the frenzied curiosity eating her alive, Faye wanted to know more about this man. Wanted to unearth his every secret. Which was a dangerous state to inhabit when she had such deep, dark secrets of her own.
‘I don’t respond to threats, Miss Bishop,’ he said, his words deceptively soft but effectively grounding her.
‘I’m simply stating the truth, signor.’
‘I’ve discovered “the truth” means different things to different people. I’m certain I’ll find out your true mettle in the next six months.’
She gasped. ‘Six months? I can’t... You can’t force me to stay here that long.’
That eyebrow elevated, spelling out just how inconsequential he found her protest. ‘I’m not forcing you to do anything,’ he returned, far too smoothly. ‘You’re hardly my prisoner. Feel free to execute another dramatic exit, since you seem to specialise in those.’
‘Three,’ she blurted. ‘I’ll give you three months.’
‘Four,’ he countered immediately, his eyes gleaming with cut-throat anticipation. ‘And I want your agreement that your connection to Luigi will only be divulged at my discretion.’
Four months of sacrifice in return for the ability to help thousands who needed it? With clever investment, the money from Luigi’s bequest could stretch for years, perhaps decades. And, even while a large part of her remained horrified, and daunted by the thought of spending time under Maceo Fiorenti’s laser eyes and dark suspicion, another part of her, emotionally centred on that bruising rejection all these years later, urged her to seize the opportunity.
Staying in Italy might reveal the truth once and for all—that Luigi had turned his back on her because of the stain of her birth that he hadn’t been able to overlook. As much as it hurt to admit it, Matt had resurrected ghosts she needed to confront and, if not lay to rest, at least learn to cohabit with.
‘Agreed. Four months and my...co-operation,’ she accepted heavily.
His triumphant expression almost made her take it back. But he was already moving on. ‘And at the end of it, you’ll sell your share to me.’
‘Or explore all my options and decide what’s best for me.’
Burnished eyes held her in place. ‘Selling it to me will be best, I assure you. No one else will give you the value I can.’
Why those words sent hot slivers of awareness through her, Faye refused to examine.
‘Are we done here?’ she asked, in a breathless rush she hoped he wouldn’t notice.
Tawny eyes flickered, resting on her in a way that suggested he knew every thought racing through her head.
‘One last thing. For the duration of your stay you’ll reside at my villa in Capri. That way we won’t have to have any tiresome debate about your room and board.’
The sensation of a silken net tightening around her made Faye shift in her seat. But there was no escaping his ferocious regard.
‘No, thanks. I’ll find my own accommodation.’ Her heart sank at the thought of digging deeper into her meagre savings.
Keep your eyes on the prize...
‘Did you see the paparazzi when you came in?’ he asked, switching subjects.
Frowning, she nodded. ‘Yes...’
‘Grande. That is just a fraction of the press who follow me around on a daily basis. They’d love nothing better than to fixate on a shiny new object like you.’
Alarm dug into her belly. ‘Why would they be interested in me?’
‘Your arrival here isn’t a secret. And you don’t exactly blend into the background, do you, arcobaleno?’
Faye whizzed through the Italian words she knew, courtesy of that brief and idyllic time with Luigi before it had all turned to dust.
Arcobaleno. Rainbow.
Another more substantial sensation lanced through her. Heavier. Sinking low into her pelvis before setting off sparks in her private places. Sensations she’d smothered after that singular, soul-shredding experience with Matt.
‘As far as I’m aware, that type of tabloid attention is reserved for notorious celebrities—so what does that make you?’
‘I’m not here to indulge your curiosity, arcobaleno,’ he replied with thick sardonicism. ‘I’m simply giving you options. Take your chances at some cheap hotel with limited security or remain under my protection,
where intrusion into your life will be minimal.’
‘Why don’t we spell out the real reason?’ she asked. ‘You really want me under your roof so you can keep an eye on me.’
‘I will do so regardless of where you sleep, Faye, since I rarely take anyone at face value. It’s entirely up to you whether you wish to sleep in comfort or in a hotel, with the constant inconvenience of the press hounding you and the unfortunate side effect of incurring my displeasure should you be tricked into speaking out of turn.’
A tiny scream gathered at the back of her throat. She swallowed it down because she knew in her bones that he’d love nothing better than to see her lose control. To have her confirm his every last preconception about her.
And Faye was sure that when she throttled back her irritation at his high-handedness she would see the benefit too. After all, he was saving her from unnecessary expense—money that could be put to better use elsewhere. But it still grated that she had to force herself to accept his strings-attached charity.
Her nails dug deeper into the armrests, but she froze when his mocking gaze dropped to her telling reaction. Forcing calm into her body, she replied, ‘I’ll stay at your villa. If you insist.’
He accepted her acquiescence with a simple nod, then reached for his phone. There was a short, rapid conversation in Italian, and then his eyes returned to her. ‘My HR director is on her way. She’ll get the ball rolling.’
The relief that attacked her midriff lasted all of two breaths before Faye registered that she was being dismissed—that Maceo was now engrossed in a document.
Insisting to herself that she was equally glad to be rid of him, she rose and willed her feet to turn about, dismissing him as easily as he’d dismissed her. She succeeded after several seconds, but it took every ounce of her willpower not to turn around and confirm that the feeling of his eyes boring into her back was nothing but her imagination.
Celebrating that tiny triumph felt essential. Because as she followed an impeccably dressed middle-aged woman out of the office, Faye’s instincts screamed that she’d need every bit of ground she could retain when it came to Maceo Fiorenti.
Their battle was merely commencing.
CHAPTER THREE
THE MOMENT HER DETAILS were recorded on the system Maceo received an alert and accessed it. He despised himself for the unstoppable urge he couldn’t deny. Far from being disillusioned after an hour spent grilling Faye Bishop, and having his suspicions confirmed that she was indeed only after the money from her share, he couldn’t dismiss her from his mind.
He’d dissected her every quietly ferocious look, every word that had spilled from those Cupid’s bow lips. He’d even pondered why she dressed the way she did. Why she inked flowers onto her skin. Why she had so little apprehension about irritating him, when everyone in his private and professional sphere went to unspeakable lengths do ensure the opposite. Even rattled, Faye gave as good as she got.
His gaze strayed to the chair she’d occupied, settling on the armrests she’d all but mauled in her bid not to sink those claws into him.
Maceo found his lips curving and immediately killed the action. The last hour changed nothing. All she’d done was spout words in an attempt to make him change his view of her. Anyone could claim hard work and commitment. The proof would reveal itself in the coming months.
Disgruntlement twisted in his gut. Before he’d met her, his intention had been for her to spend only three months at Casa di Fiorenti. So why had he pushed for six? And why the hell had he issued that directive that she stay at the villa?
While he’d been upfront about interest from the paparazzi, he hadn’t divulged the fact that it was his own careful game, cultivated to keep them from digging into his family’s past and discovering the unspeakable secret his parents and Luigi had moved mountains to hide. And, more than that, his own part in shortening the lives of his family.
Hindsight might be wonderful, but it was also cruel.
In raining judgement on his parents for harbouring the secret that had altered the very foundation of his beliefs, and shattered the pedestal on which they stood, he hadn’t stopped to consider the consequence of his actions.
That he’d found out too late.
Now he had to live with the knowledge that his parents’ carefully laid plans, their hopes and dreams for themselves and for him, had been destroyed because of him. Because of the implacable stance he’d taken when a cooler head and more flexibility might have saved him from this desolate path. The shame and guilt that rightly prevented him from contemplating any semblance of famiglia, or even a relationship for himself, were of his own making.
He had no one to blame but himself.
Grimly grounded by that reminder, he clicked open Faye’s file.
His eyes narrowed, a tiny bolt of surprise charging through him as he perused her higher education history. She had a degree in sociology and business, achieved at the top of her class. And yet she chose to waste her time on a farm?
Beyond that there was nothing that should have prompted the tension she’d shown over filling in these forms. Yet it had been present.
Maceo paused when he reached her personal details, a hot wave curling though him as his gaze lingered on the marital status box she’d ticked: none.
None didn’t mean unattached.
And it certainly didn’t matter to him one way or the other.
He’d deprived his parents and Carlotta and Luigi of lifelong relationships, of decades of reaping the benefits of their hard work. Who was he to contemplate his own pleasure? A liaison? Or, heaven forbid, a relationship?
Jaw clenched, he dragged his gaze through the rest of the document.
Altogether, her history was unremarkable. And yet Faye Bishop was anything but... She was a deceptive little flame and she burned far hotter than her outward appearance implied. Was that why Carlotta had made him promise to test her before honouring her bequest? Because she’d experienced Faye’s uniqueness for herself?
Basta!
He was spinning tales where there were none.
Rising, he strolled to his window, hoping for a distraction. But not even the arresting view could replace a certain fairy-resembling creature with tiny claws, a sharp tongue...and a voluptuous body he couldn’t quite erase from his memory banks.
But he hadn’t battled the twin demons of guilt and shame on a daily basis without growing calluses. Summoning his iron will, he returned to his desk and for the next four hours successfully dismissed Faye Bishop from his thoughts.
* * *
An email from his lawyers confirming that Stefano and Francesco intended to contest their sister’s will only roused in him amused anticipation. He’d hoped they would. Now he would ensure they walked away with nothing.
Maceo was contemplating his next move when the knock on his door came. His initial instinct to dismiss the unwanted visitor vanished when Faye Bishop’s low, husky voice announced herself.
‘Come.’ His voice sounded thick, loaded with anticipation. Which irritated him endlessly.
Not enough to rescind his invitation, though.
He sat back and watched her enter, looking as colourful and unruffled as she’d been a few hours ago. Dios, she was even smiling—albeit at Bruno, his assistant, who smiled back before, catching Maceo’s scowl, he hastily shut the door behind her.
The moment her gaze connected with Maceo’s, her smile evaporated. He shifted again, his irritation increasing along with that pressure in his groin as she swayed in that ridiculous skirt towards him.
She stopped in front of his desk. He didn’t invite her to sit.
‘I’m done with HR,’ she stated, after a moment of silence he didn’t feel inclined to break.
‘The experience wasn’t too harrowing, I hope?’
She shrugged. ‘It was what it was.’
Maceo just
managed to stop himself from sneering. ‘A nothing statement that couldn’t be more useless if it tried,’ he said.
She tilted her head, indigo eyes sparkling with amusement. ‘You know, I thought it was just my presence that rubbed you the wrong way, but I’m starting to believe you’re just naturally that way.’
A peculiar hollow opened up in his gut. ‘And which way is that?’
‘Hardwired to be bitter, cynical and just plain unpleasant.’
And guilty. How could he forget the guilt that ate him alive from the moment he woke till oblivion delivered him to his demons?
‘I assure you I’ve never been just plain anything in my life.’
‘Ah...so you’re a special brand of acid rain, ruining the existence of anyone who happens to be caught within showering distance? When you were little, did you have an anti-hero cape, emblazoned with some unique dark lord logo?’
‘There was never any need for such a garment. My extraordinariness sufficed. Still does.’
Her eyes widened and her delectable mouth gaped for a second before she caught herself. ‘I shouldn’t be surprised by that answer. And yet...’
‘And yet you are? Grande. Know that I have the power and the wherewithal to pull this and any future rug from under you and we’ll spare each other any surprises.’
Her amusement evaporated and Maceo felt another niggling sensation—this time disappointment. His exchanges with Carlotta had always been cordial, but spectres of the past and his demons had overshadowed their interactions. His banter with Faye was inconsequential, and yet he’d found himself savouring it the way he savoured the last mouthful of excellent espresso on his sun-drenched balcony before he faced the day.
‘Your HR director said you wanted to see me. If it’s just so we can hurl a few more insults at each other, then I’ll pass. It’s been a long day. I’d like to do something else that’s not...this.’
