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‘And the pink?’ she asked, tossing him a look before her gaze was drawn back down. ‘Excuse my observation, but I didn’t think it was a very...manly colour.’
Maceo shrugged. ‘It’s not a personal affront to my manhood, if that’s what you’re implying. In fact, I don’t think any other colour will do the villa justice.’
To his surprise, she nodded. ‘You’re right. Now that I’ve seen it, I can’t imagine it in any other shade but coral-pink.’
Was he truly discussing the effeminate colour of the building with this stranger? He gave a sharp shake of his head as the aircraft settled on the ground.
He threw his door open and stepped out, hoping the brisk air would restore some clarity. About to wave her in the direction of his staff and remove himself from her presence, Maceo once again found himself rooted in place. This time by the breathtaking smile on her face.
Had he missed something?
‘I survived. Hurrah!’ she gushed.
To his chagrin, she affectionately patted the side of the helicopter. He watched the caress, his insides twisting with something close to disgruntled jealousy.
Si, definitely time for them to part company.
‘Bene. I would have been most displeased had you decorated the interior of my aircraft with the contents of your stomach.’
‘No worries there. I haven’t had anything to eat since breakfast.’
He frowned. ‘Che cosa? Why not?’
‘Because I was too busy answering several hundred questions for your HR manager.’
Before he’d fully registered his actions, he’d caught her elbow and strode with her from the helipad.
‘Erm...where are we going?’
‘To find you something to eat. Far be it from me to be tainted with a reputation for being inhospitable.’
He took the quickest way to the salone closest to his housekeeper’s domain and tried to ignore his staff’s shocked expressions when he strode into the kitchen.
Giulia, the elderly housekeeper who’d been part of the household since he was a boy, hurried towards him. ‘Oh...buonasera, signor! Come posso aiutarla?’
How could she help him? He stared down at Faye, realised he still held on to her. Registered too, that her skin was indeed smooth as satin, soft as silk. Warm. Supple. Bellissima.
‘Signor...?’
Madre di Dio.
He snatched in a breath. ‘Giulia, this is Faye Bishop. She’ll be staying at the villa for the next few weeks. She requires a meal, and then would you show her to the Contessa Suite?’
Giulia was too seasoned to express the surprise reflected on his other staff’s faces. The Contessa Suite had been his mother’s, just along the corridor from Maceo’s own, the Bismarck Suite.
But this too was a turn of events he didn’t feel like dissecting.
As soon as Giulia had acknowledged his request, Maceo turned on his heel. He turned back just in time to see Faye gift one of her dimpled, breathtaking smiles to his housekeeper.
‘I’m so sorry. I feel like I’m being foisted on you, Giulia...may I call you Giulia?’
He watched as Giulia melted beneath its brilliance before indulgently granting Faye leave to use her first name. Watched his visitor dump her bag on the floor before climbing onto the nearest island stool, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the counter, thereby displaying a larger swathe of creamy midriff.
‘Whatever it is you’re making, it smells amazing! I might have to beg you for the recipe.’
Aware that he was lingering and drawing more peculiar looks from his staff, since they probably couldn’t recall the last time he’d entered the kitchen, Maceo forced himself to keep moving. To banish the far too intriguing Faye Bishop from his mind.
Regardless of the novelty she presented for whomever she came into contact with—and he was beginning to think she’d spun whatever fairy magic it was that she practised around most people, including, unfortunately, Carlotta—he was Maceo Fiorenti. A vow of no entanglements in favour of the singular preservation of his family’s legacy was his paramount objective. Nothing would sway him from that.
