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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.’
She flicked her fingers between them in a manner supposed to indicate disdain, but Maceo spotted something in her eyes. Something that echoed his own disappointment.
He was fairly certain—not completely, since he didn’t spare it more than a moment’s thought—that it was the reason he powered down his computer and rose from his desk. And when he reached for his jacket and shrugged it on, he was aware her eyes followed his every move.
‘Where are you staying?’ he asked.
She frowned. ‘Why?’
‘Because you need to collect your things before we head for the villa. Unless you came to Italy with just the clothes on your back?’
Her headshake threatened the precarious knot of multicoloured hair atop her head. And seared him with the burning need to know how long her hair was.
‘No. I have a case back at the hotel.’
She named it, and Maceo barely stopped himself from grimacing. It was little above a hostel—unworthy of the name hotel.
Si, relocating her to the villa was best. For one thing it would stop any awkward questions as to why Luigi’s stepdaughter was staying in a hovel once the media got wind of who she was. He ignored the inner voice mocking him for hunting down further reasons for Faye to stay under his roof and headed for the door.
With clear reluctance she swayed towards him, then stopped. Her eyes locked on his. Blazed with an indigo defiance that tripped the blood rushing through his veins.
Maceo knew he should move from the doorway. Astonishingly, his feet refused to obey. For the first time this strange, intriguing creature was within touching distance, and he was wholly and irritatingly rapt with the need to do just that.
Touch. Explore. Experience.
This close, he became bracingly aware of her diminutive size. Faye barely came up to his shoulder. And yet her presence filled his senses, taunted him to take a deeper breath of air, to inhale her scent, imprint it on his very being.
Considering the vow he’d taken against experiencing any contentment or pleasure, Maceo knew he ought to feel guilt and shame. But the sensations rampaging through him were neither. This was a sort of...electricity.
Anticipation.
Arousal.
Had she been here, Maceo was certain Carlotta would have been amused. Perhaps for once she would not have stared at him with concern shadowing her eyes.
Because—
