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With an Italian curse steeped in gruff denial, Maceo stepped back. His gaze turned from shocked to censorious as he dropped his hands. ‘Per al amor—’
He cut off his own words and whirled away from her.
‘I... I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—’ It was her turn to curb her words. Because she had meant to touch him.
‘I’m not sure what you think you’re playing at, Miss Bishop, but I’d caution you against trifling with me. Under any circumstance.’
His voice was a hundred blades, slashing her to shreds. Death by a thousand warnings when one would have sufficed.
‘Just so we’re clear, I don’t mix my business with pleasure. Ever.’
That final word was icily bitter. She gripped the edge of the table to steady herself against curiously searing disappointment. ‘But I’m not your business, am I? I’m Luigi’s. Carlotta’s by extension. To you, I’m a temporary burden, thrust upon you. You could be rid of me immediately, but are choosing not to. Which begs the question: which one of us is the glutton for punishment in this scenario?’
‘I have never taken the easy way out in anything, and nor do I intend—much as it’ll give us both satisfaction. As for your little...indulgence just now, you will ensure it doesn’t happen again.’
But Faye knew it hadn’t been all her. She’d seen the hunger in his eyes. Felt the pressure in his touch. His very male reaction against her hip.
‘Then do me a favour. Next time let me fall.’
He looked momentarily confused. ‘Che cosa?’
‘You stopped me from falling just now. Next time, if you’re not certain you won’t blow things out of proportion, keep walking.’
He seemed stunned by her response. Faye was certain no one had dared speak to the great Maceo Fiorenti that way in his life.
He took his time sliding the single jacket button into its hole, for all the world completely unaffected by the turbulent little incident. Back under rigid control, he inclined his regal head towards the door. ‘I will bear that in mind. Shall we?’
The journey to the jetty where his speedboat waited to ferry them to the office was conducted in tight silence. One Faye used to wrestle her senses back under control. By the time she stepped aboard and hurried to the farthest plush seat, she could draw half a breath without fruitlessly chasing Maceo’s scent of citrusy aftershave and disgruntled man. She could even avoid glancing his way for several seconds at a time. Pretend his tall, imposing body wasn’t continuing to wreak havoc on her senses.
She breathed a sigh of dubious relief when they entered Casa di Fiorenti twenty minutes later and he was immediately set upon by his assistant. But even as she scurried away she knew the reprieve wouldn’t last. Nevertheless, she locked herself away in the restroom, under the guise of fixing her slightly windblown hair, desperately attempting not to relive those moments in the dining room, as she needlessly straightened her clothes and prepared herself for the grilling to come.
Sure enough, the moment she sat down in the same conference room where she’d first met him, Maceo proceeded to dissect everything she’d learned in the past three weeks. When the head of the department repeatedly assured him that she was in no way slacking in her duties, Maceo turned those tawny eyes on her.
‘Tell me the most important thing you’ve learned so far, Miss Bishop,’ he tossed at her.
They were back to Miss Bishop, were they? Why did that send a dart of hurt through her?
‘I can’t speak for all departments, of course, but Signor Triento is an excellent leader. He trusts his staff to deliver on their goals without being a tyrant about it. I’m especially pleased with my assignment to help come up with new flavours for a limited-edition Christmas collection. I already have a few ideas.’
Alberto Triento beamed at her, before a glare from his boss swiped the smile away.
‘I wasn’t aware we were giving interns such leeway,’ Maceo groused, his eyes narrowing on Alberto.
The older man shrugged. ‘There is nothing wrong with testing new talent. It might come to nothing. Or it might bear fruit. We won’t know until we explore, si?’
He invited agreement, but Maceo’s gaze grew colder before, as if he’d grown bored of throwing his weight around, he dismissed Alberto.
Faye knew better than to assume he was done with her too. ‘So, did I pass muster?’
‘Try not to get carried away with the novelty of it all. And bear in mind we
test hundreds of flavours every year. Very few make the cut into production.’
‘But I get to eat chocolate as part of my job. I’m failing to see the downside to that!’
He pursed his lips, as if her observation had irritated him.
‘Why the R&D department?’ Faye asked in the silence that followed.
