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Regardless of what had happened in the past, the anguish Luigi’s desertion had caused her and
her mother, this man had buried his wife only a few days ago. At the very least she owed him a modicum of compassion.
She opened her mouth, but before she could retract her flippant words he spoke.
‘As the executor of Carlotta’s will, it falls to me to inform you that, through your stepfather’s bequest, you now own a quarter of one percent of a share in Casa di Fiorenti. Signor Abruzzo, kindly inform Miss Bishop what that means in monetary terms.’
One of the lawyers cleared his throat and flipped open a folder while Maceo lounged in his seat, all panther-like grace and piercing eyes, content to stare her down.
The effect of that stare caused her to miss the beginning of the lawyer’s heavily accented speech. Forcing herself to concentrate, Faye caught the last of it.
‘...at the last financial audit, Casa di Fiorenti was valued at five point six billion euros. Which makes the value of your inheritance approximately fourteen million euros.’
CHAPTER TWO
MACEO WATCHED THE strange creature’s full lush lips fall open. Then immediately cursed himself for that unwelcome observation.
Her lips could rival Cupid’s bow. So what?
Per l’amor di Dio, she had purple and silver hair! There were other colours in there, too. She was garbed in hippie clothes and one arm was decorated with flowers. Lush lips and dramatically eye-catching figure or not, she belonged on the set of some fairy-tale movie, not in the corporate offices of his billion-euro empire.
So what if her skin was the most flawless he’d ever seen and her indigo eyes seemed almost too good to be true...the most alluring he’d ever looked into?
He’d buried Carlotta just days ago. And, while their marriage hadn’t been quite conventional, he owed her the respect of not listing adjectives to describe the shape of another woman’s—
‘You’re joking!’
Her words refocused him. Infused him with the iciness and distance and gravity he should be clinging to—especially now, when Casa di Fiorenti should be his sole occupation.
‘Of course I am. Because of course I would choose now, a few days after burying my wife, to make a tasteless joke about her wishes.’
She had the decency to flush. But her contrition lasted only a handful of seconds. ‘My reaction wasn’t intended as an insult. This really is the last thing I expected.’
‘Is it? Truly, Miss Bishop?’ Maceo didn’t bother to hide his scepticism. He didn’t intend to hide anything from her. Secrets were what had eroded his family’s foundations.
‘Yes, it is. Mr Fiorenti,’ she snapped, her peculiar eyes sparking.
‘Then do as you intended before. Refuse it and leave.’
Curiously fascinated, he watched her tilt her head and return his stare. Sunlight danced off the multicoloured strands of her hair and Maceo forced his gaze to remain on her face, attempted to stave off the effect of this woman’s presence on his senses.
He’d stopped in his tracks when he spotted her through the glass, certain he was hallucinating. And even after becoming aware that he was drawing the attention of his executive staff Maceo had been unable to move. He’d been stunned at the curious sensations cascading through him—the most startling and damning being the ferocious pounding in his groin. A torrid and wholly unwelcome reminder, today of all days, that he was a man. With primal needs. Needs long and ruthlessly denied because he didn’t deserve to have them satisfied. Needs denied in order to achieve his goals. To hold on to what his parents had devoted themselves to.
He hadn’t survived hell to fall prey to a passing fascination with this pixie-like creature.
‘Your lawyers appear uncomfortable with that idea. Why is that, Mr Fiorenti?’ she enquired softly, then held up the arm decorated with hennaed flowers. ‘Wait—don’t answer that. I’ll hazard a wild guess, shall I? They’re fidgeting because you’re not allowed to tell me to do that.’ She glanced at the lawyer who had spoken. ‘Am I right, sir?’
His lawyer—damn the man—squirmed guiltily. ‘That is open to interpretation, but broadly speaking...si—’
The blinding, dare-filled smile she’d flashed at the window as he’d stood staring at her from behind the veil of glass—the smile that had stopped every red-blooded employee within the vicinity—curved into view again, complete with groin-tightening dimples, cutting off his lawyer’s words.
Maceo’s insides dipped in a mixture of arousal and guilt that made his fist curl on the table. Her gaze swung to his hand and the smile dimmed. He frowned, unsure why the look in her eyes disturbed him. He visibly relaxed, but even though her smile remained, it lacked...something.
Something he wasn’t going to concern himself with.
He leaned forward, eager to get this meeting over and done with. Faye Bishop wasn’t the only inconvenience Carlotta had left behind for him to deal with. There was added the nuisance of her brothers.
‘The bequest must be administered. But here’s the stinger, Miss Bishop. I have the power to add my own stipulations.’
