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‘Because you have no qualms about prying, but only deliver information you promise when the mood takes you.’
Was this a test? Was getting her to open herself up to him one of the requisites of fulfilling his duty as executor? Or was it something more?
Faye didn’t ask, because suddenly she was terrified to find out that his interest was merely a means to an end...
‘My mother,’ she blurted, then pressed her lips together, stunned by her own response.
‘She is unwell?’
She shook her head. ‘Far from it. She’s in a brilliant mood.’
He frowned. ‘And this causes you distress?’
To say any more would be to reveal far too much, so she remained silent.
Of course Maceo wasn’t going to be satisfied with that. ‘She lives with you on this farm?’ he pressed.
‘Yes.’
‘Perhaps I’m rusty on the mechanics of family relationships, but verifying that she is well and healthy should be a cause for contentment, should it not?’
Faye scrambled to get her emotions under control. ‘It is. I am. I’m not even sure why I am crying.’
His tawny gaze turned sceptical.
‘Can we change the subject?’ she asked, with a touch of desperation.
/> ‘Of course. You want to discuss your favourite subject, perhaps?’ His silky words held a definite edge.
Faye nodded, uncaring that she was traipsing from one dangerous territory into another.
He remained silent long enough for her to wonder if he’d changed his mind. Then, ‘Has it occurred to you that you’re searching for answers that are right in front of you?’
‘How do you mean?’
His nostrils flared briefly. ‘Perhaps Luigi left you for your own good?’
Pain lanced through her, but she pushed past it. ‘Would you leave it alone? Without knowing whether your parents loved you or not?’
His face tightened, his jaw clenching for a moment before he released it. Lifting his glass to his lips, he took a large gulp before setting the drink aside. ‘I know they cared for me. To the best of their ability.’
‘What does that mean?’
Jaded, faintly bleak eyes pinned hers. ‘Does anyone really love completely? Or is there an inherent selfishness in us that guarantees we’ll always hold back? A fear of disappointing others, perhaps?’
‘Did you not love Carlotta? Was that not enough?’ she asked, plagued by a need to know.
He tensed, his eyes boring deeper into her. ‘How you pry, cara. And yet you are such an expert at withholding.’
Faye lifted her chin. ‘Is that a yes or a no?’
‘Does it matter to you if I did or not?’ he parried.
That curious tightening in her chest—the one that strangled her each time she imagined him and Carlotta together—produced a response she wished she could take back the moment it escaped. ‘Yes.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘Perché? Why? You wish to know if I am capable of those deep and meaningful emotions you seem inclined to attach to everything?’
His derision stung, but she didn’t back down. ‘What if I do?’
