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‘Because there’s gossip and there are facts.’
‘Do you trust your own staff so little?’
Again he shrugged. ‘Carlotta was beloved by everyone, and they’re in mourning. I didn’t want you to be swayed by superfluous emotion.’
‘And you? Aren’t you in mourning?’
His face closed up. ‘My emotions are none of your concern.’
‘Are you sure? I think your emotions directly affect our interaction. You can’t seem to look at me or speak to me without attaching unsavoury labels. Which is curious, because I’ve discovered a few things about you, signor.’
‘Have you?’ His tone was bored in the extreme.
‘For someone who demands propriety from others, you certainly like notoriety. Some would even think you’ve gone out of your way to court it.’
Faye could’ve sworn he stiffened at her remark; that something resembling wariness twitched in his face. But he shrugged. ‘My relationship with the paparazzi is—’
‘None of my concern?’ she finished, smiling mockingly.
‘Exactly so. Carlotta found baiting the media amusing. So I indulged her.’
‘Why?’ From what she’d read about Carlotta, the woman had been the epitome of class and poise. Faye struggled to picture her dallying with the tabloid press.
‘Because it was either let them continue to print hurtful things about her or control the narrative by giving them something specific to print,’ Maceo replied, then looked almost bewildered by the truth he’d divulged.
‘So it was all a game to you?’
‘Isn’t life one form of game or another?’ he queried cynically, but she saw the muscle ticking in his jaw, his fingers tightening on his cup.
There was more to this than merely taunting the press for laughs.
The picture she’d discovered in the library, now tucked into a book on her bedside table, rose to her mind. But instinct warned her now wasn’t the time to ask about it.
Faye shook her head, her insides tightening with bitterness, sadness and shame. ‘Not to me. To me life is very real and very serious, signor.’
His gaze rose to linger on her hair, then the bright spots on her attire. ‘And yet your outward appearance implies otherwise.’
‘Don’t judge me because I prefer not to dwell in sombreness, like you.’
To her utter surprise, he smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes, of course, but the startling radiance of it was enough to make her forget to breathe. When she did suck in a breath, his gaze fell to her breasts.
A different sort of atmosphere charged the air. Like the start of a firework display in the far-off distance, growing closer, more seismic, by the second.
It was the same sensation that had permeated their interaction in his office three weeks ago. One steeped in sexual awareness that still made her hot and restless and twisty inside, especially at night, long after she’d gone to bed, curiously fighting sleep until she heard the distinct sound of his helicopter landing.
That maddening awareness had driven her to her bedroom’s arched windows once, to catch a glimpse of him. She’d regretted it deeply when Maceo had caught her in the act, halting mid-stride as he crossed the lawn. For an eternity he’d stared up at her, paralysing her in place with those piercing eyes, before icily dismissing her and sauntering into the villa.
‘I don’t hear your denial that this is all camouflage for what you’re really like underneath the...gaiety.’
Faye was glad she’d set her cutlery down because she’d have dropped i
t and given herself away as a mini earthquake moved through her. As it was, she took the altogether cowardly option of not meeting his gaze, unnecessarily straightening her napkin as she willed her panicked heartbeat to slow.
Because the truth was, she was hiding. Covering up the dark stain of her existence. Tuning out the dark, menacing voice that declared her circumstances would never be normal. That the formation of intimate bonds, physical or emotional, while carrying the burden she did was impossible.
Matt had proved that with his raw and callous rejection.
‘Once again we seem to have avoided the subject at hand. Or did you really invite me to breakfast to discuss my wardrobe?’
