by Maya Blake
He made the journey from study to jetty without recalling having moved.
Extracting his wallet, he shoved a handful of notes at the driver and barely heard the man’s effusive thanks.
‘Did you have a good time?’ he asked Faye, aware of the ice dripping from his voice. And not caring one little bit.
CHAPTER FIVE
SHE WHIRLED AROUND and the smile slowly drained from her face.
This day of firsts continued to pummel him. Because, absurdly, Maceo felt a dart of regret that she was no longer smiling.
‘Yes, I did,’ she murmured. ‘And before you give me a hard time—’
He waved her away. ‘You don’t need my permission to come and go as you please.’
Wry astonishment flared in her eyes. ‘I beg your pardon, but have you tried telling that to your face?’
A smile tugged at his lips, despite the irritation bubbling in his veins. Staring past her to the disappearing water taxi achieved the desired effect of restoring his disgruntlement. ‘A heads-up would have been nice.’
Her lips pursed. ‘So you could give me a hard time about it before I left?’
‘So I could’ve cancelled the plans I made for dinner.’
Her eyes widened in shock. Maceo chose not to be insulted.
‘I... You wanted to take me out to dinner?’
‘Not out in public, no. I thought we could have dinner together here at the villa.’
Her long lashes swept down. ‘Oh. Well, since you’ve been treating me like an unwanted guest for the last three weeks, dining with you was the last thing I expected.’
He frowned. ‘You exaggerate. I’ve treated you in no such way. And I have it on good authority that your every wish has been catered for.’
Because he’d instructed it to be so. He had affluence to spare, after all, and at the end of this he wanted her amenable to selling that share to him.
Is that all you want?
He ignored the question as she sighed. ‘I’m not about to get into another argument with you, Maceo. Or, heaven forbid, offer my views on the way you host guests in your home.’
A rush of heat through his veins stilled him for a moment. And then he brutally dismissed it. There should be nothing pleasing about her using his name. She’d invited him to use hers, after all. Yet he yearned to hear her say it again. Perhaps even moan it when he explored that lush lower lip of her with his fingers? His lips?
Dio Santo, what was wrong with him?
His hand went to his breastbone, blindly seeking the list. The reminder. But it was still in his jacket, discarded in his study. Much as he was discarding his vow—
No. Never that.
He dropped his hand as she walked past him and headed for the house. Again he felt that maddening compulsion to follow, to let his gaze wander over her, take in those long, supple legs and slim, delicate ankles.
‘Was there a particular reason for this dinner?’ she threw at him over her shoulder.
For an unguarded moment he wanted to toss back a petty retort that if she’d wanted to find out she should’ve let him know her plans. Thankfully, the moment passed.
‘I was struck by a sudden generosity and decided to answer a few of your questions over a good meal.’
She’d started to climb the steps leading to the terrace, but she stopped and pivoted, her movements entrancingly graceful. ‘You were going to tell me about Luigi?’
Her eyes glowed in the dark, luminous and expectant. Torrid heat built within him, flaring until it engulfed his whole body.
‘Perhaps. I hadn’t quite made up my mind.’
She tilted her head, indigo eyes narrowing. ‘Do you take pleasure in toying with me, Maceo?’
The very thought of trifling with her sent a heavy pulse of arousal through him. Dio, he either needed to find a different sort of entertainment or to have his head examined.
‘You missed your chance to find out.’
Sumptuous lips pressed together. ‘How do I even know this dinner plan you claim to have had is the truth? Maybe you’re trying to make me feel bad about something that didn’t exist.’
‘Do you feel bad about anything?’
She stiffened. ‘What?’
He summoned righteous outrage, hoping it would erode this...this lust that insisted on confusing him. ‘You had a chance to get your answers from Carlotta and you denied her. Do you feel bad about that?’
She simply stared at him. Bold and seeking. And for the first time in his life Maceo felt the strangest inclination to back down. Look away.
‘What happened to you...?’ she murmured eventually.
Ice cracked his spine. ‘What?’
The light in her eyes dimmed. ‘Never mind. I’m wasting my breath.’ She started to walk away.
Without stopping to consider the wisdom of it, he reached out and captured her elbow. ‘Clearly you have something on your mind. Let’s hear it,’ he invited silkily. ‘A nightcap, perhaps? Maybe that will make you more civil?’
Her eyes shadowed, then dropped away. ‘I don’t drink. Never have.’
‘Any particular reason why not?’ he asked.
‘Because a clear head is important to me.’
‘What a peculiar answer.’
She shrugged. ‘You find me peculiar already. What’s one more thing?’ She pulled away, and with searing reluctance Maceo let her go.
In the salone, he strode over to the drinks cabinet, poured mineral water with a dash of lime and held it out to her. She took it, but made no move to drink.
‘So, is clubbing your ideal sort of entertainment?’ he asked, feeling his reluctance to be done with her eating deeper into him.
‘I can take it or leave it.’
‘And the R&D team? Can you take or leave them too?’
‘What is this, Maceo? You’ve gone from warning me against even breathing in your presence to outright socialising with me?’
Maceo ignored her scepticism. If he was to get her onside to claim that share, he needed to tread carefully. ‘Ask me what you want to know about Luigi,’ he invited, giving up on making small talk he didn’t care about.
The glass trembled in her hand. She tightened her fingers, lowered her head. ‘Did...did he ever mention me?’
Maceo shook his head. ‘I didn’t know you existed until a few weeks ago.’ The revelation still grated—badly. So many secrets...
Hurt darted across her face and he watched her slowly stroll over to the sofa. She sat down, looking a little lost as she stared into her glass.
‘I suppose that means he never mentioned my mother either?’ she asked.
Despite her efforts to conceal it, he heard wariness in her tone, saw the way she avoided his gaze.
His hackles rose. ‘No, he didn’t. Neither did my parents.’
Certainly they had never told him the full story. A story with layers he might never uncover now everyone involved had perished.
He couldn’t keep the bitterness from merging with the guilt that churned through his stomach. He’d pushed for transparency and all he’d been left with were ashes and a life of desolation. Because how could he dare to grasp for anything resembling contentment when he’d deprived his own parents of theirs? When each time he looked in the mirror he experienced the guilt of being alive?
‘If it’s any consolation, I was kept equally in the dark for most of my life. And I detest secrets.’
The last declaration was to gauge her reaction. Sure enough, her gaze shifted away from his.
‘Some secrets are better off staying in the dark,’ she murmured, so softly he wondered if she’d realised she’d spoken aloud.
He laughed, the sound dark and hollow even to his own ears. ‘Only those who seek to justify their subterfuge believe that.’
Her eyes reconnected with his
and he was disconcerted by the dark turbulence swirling within. ‘Not everything is black and white, Maceo. Some things are out of your control. Some secrets have the power to rip families apart.’
Dio, he knew that too well!
‘Only if you let them fester. Cut out the rot and what is left will be enough.’
Long moments ticked by before she glanced away. ‘When did Luigi and Carlotta meet?’ she asked, returning to the subject she seemed obsessed with.
More and more Maceo was convinced that whatever she was hiding was embedded in her past with Luigi.
‘They met when she joined the company. According to those who were around, it was so-called “love at first sight”.’
Her lips twisted, and Maceo wanted to applaud her for not attempting to conceal her reaction with inane statements.
‘Am I a bad person if I say I wish they hadn’t met?’ she asked in a hushed voice. One that reluctantly touched him.
‘No.’
She started at his unexpected answer. Then ploughed ahead. ‘He was the only father I’d ever known.’
‘And he turned his back on you. Do you intend to hate him for ever?’
Again, she didn’t rush to deny the emotion, and the raw pulse of her anguish touched something dead inside him, threatened to rouse it.
‘Maybe not. But he left us before he met Carlotta, and I hate not knowing why.’
‘Some uncertainties you have to live with.’
‘Would the great Maceo Fiorenti accept something like this and just live with it?’ she asked.
The weight of his guilt pressed down hard. He’d pushed, created discord, and then lost those dear to him before he’d had the chance to make amends. ‘No, he would not.’
That sat between them for a minute. And Maceo didn’t exactly detest the sense of kinship that flowed between them.
‘How did he die? The newspapers mentioned a car accident...’
He forced a nod, memories crashing in despite his efforts to hold them at bay. ‘It happened in Milan. They’d just landed the biggest deal for the company yet. They threw a party to celebrate.’
‘They...?’
A muscle ticked in his temple and his blood felt icy cold. ‘My parents were in the same car as Luigi and Carlotta. Luigi and my parents died instantly.’
She gasped. ‘And Carlotta? Was she badly hurt?’
‘She was thrown from the car before impact and hospitalised briefly, but as you know she made a full recovery.’
‘At the drinks tonight, someone mentioned you’d once been in an accident too,’ Faye said.
Maceo refocused to find her frowning at him.
He tensed. ‘I’ll give you a free guess as to how I feel about office gossip.’
She shook her head. ‘It wasn’t gossip. They assumed I knew.’
He straightened from where he’d been lounging against the fireplace. ‘Have you had your fill of information about Luigi already? You must have if you’re inclined to indulge yourself in asking about me.’ He used the silky tone Carlotta had fondly referred to as his ‘il inferno’ voice as he sauntered towards Faye, not bothering to hide his displeasure about this new subject.
She’d clearly read his expression accurately, and he watched as a shiver coursed through her. He lifted his glass to his lips to hide his dark satisfaction at her reaction. Of course that all went away when she licked her bottom lip, leaving a wet trail that thickened his blood, left him with an instant raw need to be the one licking that plump flesh. Sucking it into his mouth. Tasting the hell out of it...
‘I thought we were just making conversation,’ she said.
‘No, cara,’ he drawled. ‘But if you want something else to occupy you, I can think of much better things than to discuss me,’ he offered.
She jumped up, and mineral water spilt over her fingers. Maceo took the glass and set it down. When he faced her again, she took a step back.
‘What...what do you think you’re doing?’
Si, Maceo. What are you doing?
He wasn’t breaking his vow. He was simply...
‘Satisfying your curiosity,’ he said. He lifted a hand and trailed his fingers over her smooth jawline.
Again she shivered. ‘No, you’re not. You’re...annoyed. And you’re using this...whatever this is...to hide it. Why?’
He shrugged. ‘You have an overactive imagination, Faye. I’m doing nothing except paying you back for indulging yourself with me this morning.’
She snatched in a breath. ‘I thought you said it must never happen again?’
‘No need to panic, cara. Nothing has happened yet.’
‘And nothing will,’ she blurted.
No, it wouldn’t. Because his path was set. No pleasure. No liaisons. No famiglia.
But nothing said he couldn’t teach this creature a lesson for toying with him. For making him...want.
He breathed a curiously satisfied sigh as Faye remained still, allowed him the freedom to experience her silky skin, to feel the blood rushing beneath her pulse that was slowly turning her pink with desire.
The hunger that had taken hold of him since that morning intensified, rampaging through him like a wild animal. Slowly he nudged her chin with his thumb, tilting her head up to his.
‘Why the hair colour?’ he asked, finally giving in to his curiosity.
‘Because it makes me happy.’
Such a simple answer. And yet so alien to him that he froze. When had he done something for the simple reason of pleasing himself? Not since before he’d woken up from hell and found himself inhabiting a nightmare.
‘And the henna tattoos and the unconventional clothes? They make you happy too?’ he pressed.
‘Yes,’ she murmured, subtly leaning into his touch.
Maceo didn’t think she was aware that she was doing so. Dark satisfaction flared higher within him.
‘Life is dreary enough without helping it along with boring clothes.’
‘Such a simplistic thing to say,’ he answered, but in some deep, dark part of him he acknowledged that he was...endeared to her.
Temporarily.
Faye Bishop had layers he couldn’t afford to be sidetracked by. Not when he sensed there were secrets she strove hard to hide.
She shrugged. ‘I am what I am.’
He indulged himself in another stroke of her skin. Felt her tremble and his own groin pulsate in response.
‘But you’re not, cara, are you? There is much more hidden beneath, isn’t there?’
‘I’m not sure exactly what’s going on here, Maceo...’
He stepped closer, breathing her in. ‘Say my name again,’ he commanded.
‘Why?’
‘Because it pleases me.’
Shame slammed into him at the admission. But he didn’t...couldn’t...take it back.
‘Do you always get what you want?’ she asked.
‘No, I do not. If I did my family would still be alive.’
The starkness of his answer froze them both and he saw the beginnings of softness in her eyes. He wanted to lap it up and at the same time reject it. He did neither. He simply continued to caress her, the hypnotic forbidden thrill of it seeping deeper into his blood.
‘I’m sorry you lost them,’ she murmured, with genuine sympathy in her eyes.
He inclined his head, accepting the words but then dismissing them before they wound themselves around places he would swear weren’t vulnerable.
She opened her mouth again. And against his better judgment and every vow—perhaps because he was suddenly wary of her expertise in confounding him—he stalled her by the most direct means available to him: lowering his head and kissing her.
This was by no means his first kiss, but it was his first since that moment he’d opened his eyes to a whole new world. A world whe
re his parents were no longer alive. A world where guilt and cruel might-have-beens resided.
One simple touch of her lips and Maceo’s senses detonated in an unrelenting force so potent and yet so pure it sent him reeling. She moaned, and the sound only intensified his hunger. Her sweet, supple body swayed into him. He wrapped an arm around her waist, drawing her closer. A gruff sound was unleashed from him as her softness moulded to his hardness.
It was as if he’d been uncaged.
He drank her in, delving deep into her mouth to taste every inch. And how sweet she tasted. Adolescent experiences he could barely recall evaporated from his mind for ever, replaced by this new, mind-bending sensation threatening to overwhelm him.
Faye’s scent. Her taste. The soft firmness of her body. All eroded his greatest asset—his control. But even as he assured himself he could wrestle it back, he was also admitting to himself that he’d never felt want like this.
His marriage hadn’t been a traditional one. Only he and Carlotta knew their truth. So his need was particularly acute as he fisted Faye’s hair, helped himself to another taste of cherry blossom and the pure woman in his arms.
And he would have kept on sampling and indulging if reality had not seeped in like a dark, icy storm.
Was he really doing this? Blithely discarding his vow for the sake of this foolish temporary temptation? When the last thing he deserved was any form of serenity?
With a control he wrestled extremely hard for, he broke the kiss.
Eyes wide, breath panting, Faye stared up at him, a look of horror slowly etching her face. ‘I’m not sure exactly what that was, but—’
‘I can spell it out for you or give you another demonstration if you need pointers?’ he said, infusing his voice with nonchalance he didn’t feel. Maceo had no intention of losing himself like that again, but she didn’t need to know it.
She shook her head, sparking an irrational irritation inside him as the look of horror remained on her face, despite feeling a similar sensation at himself.
‘I don’t want pointers, thank you. What I’d like is to go to bed—if this little game of yours is over?’ Without waiting for an answer, she hurried towards the door.
