by Maya Blake
There was that word again. Creeping far too often and relentlessly into her thoughts.
‘Does the inside please you as much as the outside?’ Maceo asked when they returned indoors, with that low, deeply disturbing note still in his voice.
Feeling unsettled, she examined his expression for an insight as to the subtle changes in their skirmish. There was no mockery. But there was a quiet, intense emotion she was afraid to decipher.
‘It’s magnificent,’ she answered, simply and truthfully.
He nodded with satisfaction, then straightened from where he’d draped his streamlined body against a wall. ‘Bene. The housekeeper will show you to your room. If you need anything just let the staff know.’
Abruptly he turned away and started to walk off.
‘Where are you going?’ she blurted.
He paused, then shot her a droll look. ‘I’m attempting, perhaps for the first time since we met, to leave while we’re not at each other’s throats. I think the term is to quit while I’m ahead, si?’
Faye was shaking her head before he’d finished. ‘Surely we can find a way to coexist and be...?’ She stopped, because she couldn’t quite find a term that described what not being in conflict with Maceo looked like.
Pleasant? Peaceful? Affable?
Words far too tame for the high-octane friction that existed between them.
‘Without...?’ he pressed, one eyebrow quirked in amusement.
She threw exasperated hands in the air. ‘I don’t know. But I didn’t fly halfway across the world to be left twiddling my thumbs because you’re attempting to be...whatever version it is of yourself you’re being right now. At the very least can we call a truce on hostilities?’
That smile returned, played at his lips while he stared at her. ‘Very well. If that is what you truly wish. Take the remainder of the day. Relax. Work some of the jet lag out of your system. We’ll reconvene at some point tomorrow?’
A knot of tension eased inside her and she realised she’d been holding her breath. Because she’d needed that reassurance of when she’d see him again. Dear God...
‘Sure. Okay.’
With a far too cunning smile, Maceo walked away, leaving her feeling as if she’d walked into another of his silken traps.
The housekeeper arrived to escort her upstairs, relieving her from dwelling on her thoughts. Faye smiled as the older woman informed her with quiet but deep pride that they were in the much sought-after suburb of Soufrière. That she’d worked for the Fiorenti and Caprio families—in her dream job—for over twenty years.
This prompted Faye, just for a moment, to consider asking her about Luigi and Pietro, before dismissing the idea. All she’d be doing was inviting speculation.
In her opulent suite, her clothes had been unpacked and neatly put away in the large dressing room. French windows led onto a sprawling terrace and Faye’s breath caught all over again at the magnificent view.
Once the housekeeper had pointed out every luxurious amenity in the bedroom and sky-lit rainforest-themed bathroom, she smilingly enquired about Faye’s dinner plans.
Torn between asking about Maceo’s plans and remaining oblivious, she settled for a quiet dinner on her terrace. The view was too stunning to waste. And a few hours to get her head straight wouldn’t hurt either.
* * *
Dinner was a superb seafood salad, washed down with another fruit punch, after which Faye returned to her suite, took off the scarlet linen jumpsuit she’d travelled in and indulged herself for far too long beneath the powerful jets of the shower before sliding between seriously comfortable sheets.
She woke the next day to a message from Maceo that he would be in conference calls all morning and that she had the day to herself.
Faye refused to examine why the message left her hollow inside.
After a lazy breakfast, she powered up her laptop and re-read every report about Casa di Fiorenti’s St Lucia operation. Then she fired off an email to Alberto with some new flavour ideas.
Feeling her concentration wavering after that, she gave up, and slipped into a sun-yellow bikini and matching beach dress with a long slit that fell to her ankles.
Barefoot, she went downstairs to the pool. After confirming the time difference, she plucked her phone from her bag. She hadn’t spoken to her mother in a few days, and although she wasn’t worried about Angela Bishop’s well-being, she was suddenly dying to hear her mother’s voice.
Her call connected a minute later.
‘Hi, Mum? Are you okay?’ she asked, when a soft, mellow voice answered.
‘Of course I am, Faye. Why wouldn’t I be?’
A lump rose in her throat at the clear, lucid response. Her mother was having a good day.
‘I’m glad to hear it. What have you been up to?’ she asked, reclining on a lounger.
For the next twenty minutes Faye lost herself in her mother’s everyday life at New Paths, tossing in a few vague anecdotes of her own. But behind their exchange was the pain and sadness that always lingered.
Faye wasn’t aware she was crying until she felt the wetness on her cheeks. She struggled to pull herself together. The last thing she wanted to do was upset her mother with her silly tears.
She waited for a natural break in the conversation, then ended it with as much enthusiasm as she could muster.
She’d just tossed her phone onto the table beside her when a shadow loomed over her.
‘You’re distressed. Why?’ Maceo demanded tightly.
Faye blinked, struggling to get her emotions under control as he sauntered closer. ‘It’s nothing.’
‘I beg to disagree.’
She pressed her lips together. ‘I thought we weren’t meeting until later. Why are you here?’
He held out a glass and she realised that he’d come with refreshments.
‘It’s hot out here. I thought a drink might help,’ he stated, his gaze tracking her face. Yesterday’s easy humour was nowhere in the eyes that shamelessly dissected her expression.
She accepted the drink while trying to hide the feeling of vulnerability his presence elicited. ‘Thank you.’
He claimed the lounger next to hers, his gaze never leaving her face. ‘Tell me, or leave me to form several probably wildly inaccurate conclusions,’ he said, with a deceptive softness that didn’t hide his intent.
Faye dropped her eyes to her glass and then, fighting weakness, boldly returned his gaze. ‘Or you could leave it alone?’
‘We seem to have this conversation quite a lot, no?’
‘Because you have no qualms about prying, but only deliver information you promise when the mood takes you.’
Was this a test? Was getting her to open herself up to him one of the requisites of fulfilling his duty as executor? Or was it something more?
Faye didn’t ask, because suddenly she was terrified to find out that his interest was merely a means to an end...
‘My mother,’ she blurted, then pressed her lips together, stunned by her own response.
‘She is unwell?’
She shook her head. ‘Far from it. She’s in a brilliant mood.’
He frowned. ‘And this causes you distress?’
To say any more would be to reveal far too much, so she remained silent.
Of course Maceo wasn’t going to be satisfied with that. ‘She lives with you on this farm?’ he pressed.
‘Yes.’
‘Perhaps I’m rusty on the mechanics of family relationships, but verifying that she is well and healthy should be a cause for contentment, should it not?’
Faye scrambled to get her emotions under control. ‘It is. I am. I’m not even sure why I am crying.’
His tawny gaze turned sceptical.
‘Can we change the subject?’ she asked, with a touch of desperation.
/> ‘Of course. You want to discuss your favourite subject, perhaps?’ His silky words held a definite edge.
Faye nodded, uncaring that she was traipsing from one dangerous territory into another.
He remained silent long enough for her to wonder if he’d changed his mind. Then, ‘Has it occurred to you that you’re searching for answers that are right in front of you?’
‘How do you mean?’
His nostrils flared briefly. ‘Perhaps Luigi left you for your own good?’
Pain lanced through her, but she pushed past it. ‘Would you leave it alone? Without knowing whether your parents loved you or not?’
His face tightened, his jaw clenching for a moment before he released it. Lifting his glass to his lips, he took a large gulp before setting the drink aside. ‘I know they cared for me. To the best of their ability.’
‘What does that mean?’
Jaded, faintly bleak eyes pinned hers. ‘Does anyone really love completely? Or is there an inherent selfishness in us that guarantees we’ll always hold back? A fear of disappointing others, perhaps?’
‘Did you not love Carlotta? Was that not enough?’ she asked, plagued by a need to know.
He tensed, his eyes boring deeper into her. ‘How you pry, cara. And yet you are such an expert at withholding.’
Faye lifted her chin. ‘Is that a yes or a no?’
‘Does it matter to you if I did or not?’ he parried.
That curious tightening in her chest—the one that strangled her each time she imagined him and Carlotta together—produced a response she wished she could take back the moment it escaped. ‘Yes.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘Perché? Why? You wish to know if I am capable of those deep and meaningful emotions you seem inclined to attach to everything?’
His derision stung, but she didn’t back down. ‘What if I do?’
‘Then I would caution you to brace yourself for disappointment.’
Her heart lurched alarmingly, echoes of Luigi’s desertion stabbing at her. ‘Because you’re incapable of love?’
He remained silent for another long stretch, and then he shrugged. ‘Because life has a tendency to give you what you want while depriving you of what you need. As to your question... Luigi was Carlotta’s first and only love. I went into our marriage with both eyes open and therefore I wasn’t disappointed.’
‘Not expecting something doesn’t mean you’re not hurt when you’re deprived of it,’ she pushed, her mind racing with different interpretations of his answer.
Was he bitter because his love had been unrequited?
Faye bit her tongue against asking and broke his gaze, suddenly unable to withstand its ferocity. She discarded her glass, prepared to rise.
He stopped her by the simple act of caging her legs between his, leaning forward to place his hands on either side of her hips. She didn’t feel trapped. More compelled to stay put simply by the hypnotic effect he exuded.
‘Are you fleeing because my answers don’t satisfy you?’
‘I’m not. Weren’t we just making conversation?’ She tried for a light tone and failed miserably.
‘Hmm... I had the impression you were trying to understand me, cara. The question is, why? We are going to part in a few weeks, are we not?’ he demanded, a touch of acid in his voice.
‘You’re right. We are. And I’ll never have to think about you again.’
Perhaps the shadows in his eyes were a trick of the sun, but the tightening of his sensual mouth wasn’t. ‘Keep telling yourself that, arcobaleno.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘You are under my skin. The same way I’m under yours. There’s no escaping it.’
His voice was sandpaper-rough, perfectly pitched to burrow deep inside her, to places she’d closed off after Matt. And yet he seemed to with effortless ease.
Silence fell between them as his words sank in.
From nowhere, a pulse of potent feminine power flared through her. ‘It’s just our unique circumstances,’ she said.
He shrugged. ‘Perhaps.’
One hand moved, tracing the skin where her dress had parted, from mid-thigh to knee, before sliding his hands behind her leg. The sensation was shockingly visceral, enough to draw a gasp.
‘If it helps, I don’t like it any more than you do.’ Before she could respond to that curiously bruising declaration, he continued, ‘You think you will forget me that easily, Faye? When you can’t even remain within touching distance without your every sense clamouring for me?’
Heat washed through her as his fingers kneaded her flesh. ‘I’ll take care of how I feel. Feel free to do the same for yourself.’
He didn’t respond immediately. Instead his eyes conducted a slow, thorough journey, landing in places that highlighted her breathless state, her helpless reaction to him. She knew her nipples were pebbled against her bikini. That a fine tremble had seized her since he’d laid his hands on her. Her fingers were locked hard into the cushions of the lounger just so she wouldn’t reach for him.
‘And what way is that? Do be kind and share, per favore,’ he rasped.
Retreat. Regroup. Anything but sit here, tormented by the need to touch him.
Too late, he saw her struggle. Stoked it.
‘Do it,’ he encouraged thickly. ‘Touch me.’
‘No,’ she said boldly. Then ruined it by trembling.
That drew a wicked smile from him. And the smile grew the longer she remained seated, weakening her further when he leaned in until his lips were a whisper from hers.
‘You’re not a coward. Take what you want. Set us both free.’
She drew in a desperate breath, inhaling his potent scent until every pore of her being was filled with him. Slowly his smile disappeared, replaced by a stark hunger that threatened to eat her alive.
How had they got here?
The answer was terrifyingly simple.
They always ended up here. As if an invisible force controlled them.
But she wasn’t a passive passenger, without any say or control in her destiny. On the contrary, faced with temptation such as she’d never known before, her willpower had pulled her though when things got out of hand.
‘We’re going to part in a few weeks...’
His words echoed in her head, intensifying the tightness in her chest and the hollow in her belly.
Perhaps it was the need to eradicate those feelings that made her react. Perhaps her foundations had been badly eroded when she wasn’t looking.
Whatever.
With a rough, unbidden little sound, torn from her throat, Faye wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders and closed the gap between them.
Maceo permitted her free rein for all of five seconds, and then he was pulling her into his lap, disposing of the sundress in two easy moves to leave her clad only in her bikini. He reclined on the lounger, dragging her along his body until she was sprawled on top of him. Then he wove dark magic around them.
Words tumbled from his lips as he tasted her with a ferocity that left her breathless. Moaning, she threw herself into the embrace, the knowledge that this exploration was finite, that some time very soon she would be back in Devon with her mother, memories of Capri and St Lucia a distant dream, sharpening the need to absorb and hoard every second of this experience.
She gasped as Maceo flipped them over and dragged urgent hands down her body. Cupping one breast, he flicked the nipple expertly until it peaked, then groaned under his breath. Searing pleasure darted from the point of contact to her core, making her slick and needy and desperate.
Against her thigh she felt his potent power and shivered.
‘I want you. I will have you,’ he grated against her throat, the sound so raw and deep it was as if he made the oath to himself.
It burrowed deep in
side Faye, and the next shiver that coursed through her, while deeply pleasurable, arrived with a warning. Because for a nanosecond every cell in her body had screamed yes.
Yes to opening herself up to another devastating rejection.
Yes to putting not just herself and her innocent mother in humiliation’s way but Maceo, too.
Because hers was the sort of stigma that could never be washed away.
She’d been selfish once upon a time, had sought solace when she should have kept her secret. She still bore the emotional scars from that.
Matt had only been a fellow university student, but Maceo was Luigi’s godson—part of a family her stepfather had treasured and chosen over her mother and her. And, while the knowledge seared pain into her soul, after weeks in his domain she understood why Luigi had made that choice.
Maceo had impeccable pedigree, and despite his tragic circumstances he had become a powerful, dynamic CEO, revered for his intellect. A man who’d elevated his family’s business to international renown and success.
How could that compare to her, a nobody, an abomination, with a deep, terrible secret?
If she gave in now, even if her secret remained buried for her lifetime, knowing she’d stained him would be unconscionable.
She started to pull away.
He caught her chin and stilled her retreat. The action left her with very little choice but to stare into intense tawny eyes alight with passion.
‘You are thinking of denying me. Denying us. Again,’ he condemned, with a quiet, deadly rasp.
‘I... I have to.’ The words were torn from her soul.
‘The only reason you have to is because something holds you back,’ he announced arrogantly. His eyes narrowed to laser slits. ‘Your HR forms suggested that you are unattached. Is that a lie?’
‘You read my HR forms?’ she asked, momentarily distracted before his firm touch focused her back on the electric present.
‘I’m CEO,’ he stated imperiously. ‘Now, answer the question. Do you have a lover, Faye?’ he breathed, his voice a volcanic rumble as his gaze flicked down to where they were plastered together, chest to chest.
