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The peculiar note in his voice froze her. Growing colder, she peered more closely at the papers she’d dislodged. It was a report of some sort. And within the long script several familiar names jumped out at her. Hers. Her mother’s. New Paths. Luigi. Pietro?
‘Maceo, what is this?’ Her shaking voice echoed her devastated soul.
His lips thinned, highlighting the whiteness around his mouth, his ashen pallor. ‘Per favore. Leave it, Faye,’ he urged, his tone cajoling in a way that rattled her even more.
‘No. I won’t leave it. Why are you investigating me?’
‘I don’t want to do it like this.’
‘Do what?’ she shrieked. ‘Tell me!’ When he didn’t answer, she pointed to the newspapers. ‘Did you do this?’
Anger resto
red his colour. ‘Of course not.’
‘Then who did? You’re the only one who—’
‘Do not even finish that sentence.’
But her pain seared too deep. ‘Why not? I told Matt what happened to my mother, but this level of detail... No one knows that but you.’
Maceo’s fury evaporated, leaving behind thick censure that added to the dread crawling through her.
‘And you automatically assume I would betray you?’
‘I don’t know!’
‘You should!’ he sliced at her.
‘Why? Because we’re sleeping together?’ She lashed out, her pain too huge to contain.
A look almost of hurt crossed his face before it hardened into a rigid mask. ‘Because I told you I would always be straight with you.’
‘Then explain why you’re investigating me.’
‘I’m not investigating you. I’m investigating Pietro. And Luigi.’
‘Why?’
For a tight stretch he remained silent. Then, with a bleak look, he shook his head. ‘Because I don’t think Luigi’s arrival in your mother’s life was unplanned.’
Her vision wavered. She clutched the side of the desk to keep upright.
‘What...?’
But she knew. Like a snake slithering in the dark towards her, the poisonous truth was about to sting. Change her life for ever.
‘Luigi went to England purposely to find your mother—and you.’
‘Explain, Maceo,’ she pleaded, aware that her lips had gone numb. Her whole body had gone numb. Only a tiny sliver of her brain worked.
‘Because he suspected your mother’s attacker was Pietro. And in his own way he wanted to make things right.’
The sting arrived like a hot lance to her heart. Vaguely she was aware that she was shaking her head, that every atom in her being was shaking in denial. Just as she was aware that Maceo had dropped to his knees before her and was staring at her with eyes that pitied her.
‘No!’ she snarled.
He lowered his head, his shoulders heaving. ‘Yes.’
