by Maya Blake
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.’
His gaze dropped to her phone. ‘How was your mother?’
Her tension increased. ‘I couldn’t really tell. I’m hoping she’s the same as when we spoke in St Lucia.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘What’s her general state?’
Pain lanced through her. ‘She has good days and bad days.’ It was an adequate enough answer. And yet she found herself elaborating. ‘The assault was traumatic in itself, but the real trauma came when she found out she was carrying me. I think that completely broke her mentally. I was oblivious to her deep trauma for years before she got help.’
He walked into the room, his hands leaving his pockets to hang by his sides. ‘You were a child. How could you have known?’
‘I was old enough to see how hard she took Luigi’s leaving. She got so bad we were both assigned counsellors. I was too young to grasp exactly what was going on half the time, but I knew that she was suffering. About a year after Luigi left her counsellor suggested New Paths as a permanent residence. It was a whole new experience for her. Most of the time she thrives there, but every now and then she has a relapse.’
Maceo flinched and his expression turned almost furious. Just as he had on the balcony, he turned away abruptly.
Her stomach hollowed. ‘Sorry if that was TMI. Not everyone wants to know the messy details.’
He turned back to her, his eyes burning. ‘On the contrary. I want to know everything.’
The firm assurance brought a lump to her throat. Swallowing, she nodded. ‘New Paths has a high success rate with alternative therapies. Mum’s is a combination of medication, art and music therapy, specifically designed for her. That’s the kind of therapy I want to do eventually,’ she confessed quietly.
Enlightenment fired in his eyes. ‘That’s what you intend to use your inheritance for?’
‘Yes,’ she stated boldly. ‘You probably think it’s not—’
‘I think it’s highly commendable. Luigi would be proud.’
Tears prickled at her eyes. ‘Do you think so?’
He nodded, his eyes gentling in a way that suggested he wasn’t as unaffected as she’d imagined. They stared at one another, jagged understanding throbbing between them. Then another crack of thunder attempted to shatter the tree house.
She jumped. Maceo chuckled.
The atmosphere was broken. And when he returned to his desk a minute later Faye couldn’t help but accept that she’d slipped just a little bit further down that slippery road where her heart was in even more danger.
CHAPTER TEN
IT WAS A little terrifying how returning to Capri felt to Faye like coming home. Perhaps the feeling stemmed from never having had a true home, her mother’s mental fragility and resulting anxiety having left her in a state of flux.
Those two years spent with Luigi had been her closest to stability and ‘home’...
Pico’s over-exuberant greeting merely deepened the sensation of homecoming. And that night, when he scratched at the door for entry into Maceo’s bedroom—where he’d insisted she moved—she smiled at Maceo’s put-upon expression.
‘I’m under no illusion that he’s pining for me,’ he said.
‘Will you let him in, please?’
‘I suspect I’ll have to—or else listen to him whine all night,’ he growled, before rising to open the door.
A thoroughly pleased Pico rushed in, but when he attempted to jump onto the bed Maceo whistled sharply. ‘He can stay for tonight, but I refuse to have him on our bed.’
Her heart squeezed, then banged against her ribs in foolish reaction to his words. Under the guise of petting Pico, Faye ruthlessly tried to bring her feelings under control. Which turned out to be a futile task because, a moment later, when Maceo tugged her into his arms, the cascade of emotion smashed her fortitude to smithereens.
* * *
In the following weeks Maceo continued to whittle away at her foundations until Faye accepted that when she eventually left she would be taking an extra suitcase full of heartache with her. Because her feelings for Maceo had long passed the just sex they were supposed to be indulging in.
To stop herself being totally overcome by her staggering emotions, she attempted to place a professional distance between them—first by requesting a return to the R&D department, and then by demanding that they keep their physical relationship between themselves.
Maceo grumbled, but when she refused to back down, after a twenty-minute debate, he grudgingly gave in, before pulling her beneath him in bed with the instruction to put him in a better mood—a task Faye was all too delighted to perform.
Day after day, she was discovering tiny new facets of her lover.
Maceo could be gentle when required, was extremely generous to his staff, and without fail, visited his family’s memorial every weekend.
On the third weekend after their return she asked to accompany him. He hesitated for a fraction of a second before holding out his hand.
An hour later she stood beside him, tears prickling in her eyes as she paid her respects to the only father she’d ever known, silently accepting that she would never truly know all the answers.
There was one
question she hadn’t yet asked, though.
She tried to ignore the lingering distance she felt from Maceo as they left the cemetery. But, just as when they’d been in St Lucia, she felt that small pebble of unease chafe, its presence looming larger with each day.
‘I’ve never asked about Pietro’s whereabouts... I’m assuming the two of you aren’t in touch?’
Maceo stiffened, and the hand gripping hers tightened. ‘No,’ he said tersely.
He said nothing more. Faye pulled at his hand till he stopped. Looking into his face, she glimpsed a caginess she’d never witnessed before.
‘Maceo, what is it?’
His lips thinned and his jaw clenched before he answered. ‘He died of a drug overdose in Malaysia, three years ago.’
She gasped, her gaze swinging back to the family mausoleum. Maceo shook his head. ‘He left instructions to be cremated wherever he died. I didn’t attend the funeral.’
He resumed walking and after a moment she joined him, aware that the distance between them was widening. But she was leaving in a few weeks. Reminded of how Luigi had left her with questions, Faye swore she wouldn’t let Maceo do the same.
* * *
They had no dinner plans the following Friday, and, as had become her habit, when she finished work she took the lift to Maceo’s floor.
Bruno was nowhere in sight. About to knock on his door, she hesitated when she heard voices.
With a grimace, she lowered her hand, recognising Stefano’s and Francesco’s cold tones. She’d stayed clear of them since the party at Villa Serenita, and wondered about why Maceo kept them around, considering the obvious friction between them.
She shrugged mentally. Luigi and Maceo’s parents had accommodated Pietro, despite his deplorable behaviour. It stood to reason Carlotta would do the same for her brothers.
About to retreat, and wait for Maceo in one of the conference rooms, Faye froze when she heard her name. She knew she shouldn’t eavesdrop, but a need to overcame her better judgement.
After several weeks in Italy she’d picked up enough Italian words to grasp the gist of a conversation, although she didn’t have to be fluent to recognise the brothers’ tone.
‘The little whore...’
‘Paparazzi sniffing around...’
‘Perhaps they need to be indulged...’
Maceo’s terse response produced a chilling silence she could feel even from behind the closed door. Both brothers snarled something right before she heard footsteps. She tried to retreat, but didn’t get far enough. The door flew open and twin pairs of beady eyes glared at her.
Behind them, Maceo stood tall and furious. His gaze gentled a touch when he saw her, but he turned away almost immediately, raking his fingers through his hair as he strode to the window.
She entered his office, shutting the door behind her. ‘Everything all right?’
‘No.’
‘May I ask what that was about?’
He tensed visibly, fingers massaging his nape. ‘Leave it.’
She hadn’t expected the harsh answer. Cold dread slithered through her stomach. ‘Is it about how they treated Carlotta? Shouldn’t you let that go, Maceo?’ she urged softly.
He spun around, his eyes flames of rage. ‘No. Because they’re snakes. At every turn they try to undermine my position.’
‘Can’t you just vote them off the board?’
His jaw tightened. ‘I might be the majority shareholder but I don’t have the ultimate overruling authority. Not yet, anyway.’
She frowned. What she’d overheard had sounded personal. About her. ‘So what was it about just now?’ she pressed.
She sensed his withdrawal, saw the shutters coming down before he turned to his desk. ‘They’re making their usual threats. Wanting something for nothing.’
Perhaps it wasn’t a lie, but she suspected it wasn’t the whole story either. But, really, was it her business when he was visibly freezing her out?
‘I’m ready to leave,’ she said, changing the subject. ‘I can go ahead if you want?’ she suggested, hoping he’d refuse. Hoping he’d snap out of his mood so things could return to normal. But what was normal when the clock was counting down until this thing reached its end date?
‘We will leave together,’ he stated gruffly.
But even as he gathered his files, strode towards her and took her hand, he was a thousand miles away.
Dinner was a stilted affair, his thoughts clearly elsewhere. But all that changed when they reached the bedroom. There he focused his full attention on her. And, like the fool she was, she surrendered, allowed his searing passion to burn away her chaotic thoughts.
* * *
For a week they carried on in the same vein. Then came the added concern of her mother’s suddenly frequent contact, in which she demanded to know when Faye would be returning.
Assuring her that she would return soon only highlighted how close she was to leaving Capri.
How close she was to walking away from the man she suspected she’d fallen in love with.
When her mother’s calls increased in frequency the next day, Faye was forced to consider cutting her time even shorter. Perhaps going home to see her mother. Her heart eased a little at the thought that she didn’t have to leave permanently just yet. She would just fly home for a couple of days.
Deciding to tell Maceo, she left her favourite position beside the pool, where she’d been toying with more new flavour combinations.
It was Saturday, but Maceo was working at home.
The first thing she noticed was the staff’s tension as she passed them in the hallway.
Her second discovery was Maceo’s absence from his study.
The reason for the staff’s tension became clear when she heard Maceo’s furious voice and saw his angry pacing a moment later as he crossed the terrace outside.
She was debating whether to retreat when her gaze fell on the papers strewn on his desk. Nausea congealed in her stomach as she saw the first of the shrieking headlines. Then the one after that. All with accompanying pictures.
One picture was of her leaving the cemetery with Maceo. Another was of him clutching her hand as they raced towards his helicopter. A third grainy one showed them on his beach in St Lucia, clenched in a lovers’ embrace that left no doubt as to their relationship.
But it was the lurid revealing headlines that rammed horror down her throat. That filled every atom of her being with utter desolation until a hoarse cry left her throat and her knees gave way.
Billionaire CEO Dates Child of Rape!
In Bed with the Dirty Laundry!
She slapped her hand over her mouth, as if that would stop the sickening feeling cascading through her. Firm hands grabbed her, attempted to right her. With a horrified shriek, she pushed Maceo away.
‘Faye...’ His voice was low, imploring.
She staggered away from him. As she did so her hip bumped his desk, sending papers flying to the ground. She started to reach for them but Maceo surged forward.
‘Leave them!’
The peculiar note in his voice froze her. Growing colder, she peered more closely at the papers she’d dislodged. It was a report of some sort. And within the long script several familiar names jumped out at her. Hers. Her mother’s. New Paths. Luigi. Pietro?
‘Maceo, what is this?’ Her shaking voice echoed her devastated soul.
His lips thinned, highlighting the whiteness around his mouth, his ashen pallor. ‘Per favore. Leave it, Faye,’ he urged, his tone cajoling in a way that rattled her even more.
‘No. I won’t leave it. Why are you investigating me?’
‘I don’t want to do it like this.’
‘Do what?’ she shrieked. ‘Tell me!’ When he didn’t answer, she pointed to the newspapers. ‘Did you do this?’
Anger resto
red his colour. ‘Of course not.’
‘Then who did? You’re the only one who—’
‘Do not even finish that sentence.’
But her pain seared too deep. ‘Why not? I told Matt what happened to my mother, but this level of detail... No one knows that but you.’
Maceo’s fury evaporated, leaving behind thick censure that added to the dread crawling through her.
‘And you automatically assume I would betray you?’
‘I don’t know!’
‘You should!’ he sliced at her.
‘Why? Because we’re sleeping together?’ She lashed out, her pain too huge to contain.
A look almost of hurt crossed his face before it hardened into a rigid mask. ‘Because I told you I would always be straight with you.’
‘Then explain why you’re investigating me.’
‘I’m not investigating you. I’m investigating Pietro. And Luigi.’
‘Why?’
For a tight stretch he remained silent. Then, with a bleak look, he shook his head. ‘Because I don’t think Luigi’s arrival in your mother’s life was unplanned.’
Her vision wavered. She clutched the side of the desk to keep upright.
‘What...?’
But she knew. Like a snake slithering in the dark towards her, the poisonous truth was about to sting. Change her life for ever.
‘Luigi went to England purposely to find your mother—and you.’
‘Explain, Maceo,’ she pleaded, aware that her lips had gone numb. Her whole body had gone numb. Only a tiny sliver of her brain worked.
‘Because he suspected your mother’s attacker was Pietro. And in his own way he wanted to make things right.’
The sting arrived like a hot lance to her heart. Vaguely she was aware that she was shaking her head, that every atom in her being was shaking in denial. Just as she was aware that Maceo had dropped to his knees before her and was staring at her with eyes that pitied her.
‘No!’ she snarled.
