The Commanding Italian's Challenge Page 3

  He rose from the table, itching to be away from this room. He assured himself that the other reason he was so eager to leave had nothing to do with accessing his security team to verify that Faye Bishop had truly left the building.

  Casting one last dismissive glance at the brothers, he added, ‘Your sister left you some personal effects. I’ll leave Signor Abruzzo to apprise you of them.’

  He left the room to ringing silence.

  One step out the door and he was retrieving his phone. His assistant answered on the first ring. ‘Get Security to track down the woman who was just here. Her name is Faye Bishop. I want her back here pronto—’

  ‘There’s no need, signor. Miss Bishop is waiting in your office.’

  Maceo slid his phone back into his pocket and told himself the rush of heat through his veins wasn’t anticipation. Just as he’d dealt with Carlotta’s brothers, he would simply deal with another loose end.

  * * *

  With every bone in her body Faye wished she’d had the nerve to keep walking once she’d decided to reject Carlotta’s bequest. But...

  Pride goes before a fall.

  And hers had been one prideful act she’d known, even as it was enfolding, she’d have to go back on. Because, ultimately, this wasn’t about her.

  It was about her mother.

  It was about every woman who needed vital assistance.

  Every victim who could use some support to get back on their feet.

  She’d made it as far as the breathtaking steel, marble and glass atrium on the ground floor before good sense had kicked in. Thank goodness the receptionist there had accepted her explanation that she had unfinished business with Signor Fiorenti and allowed her to return to the top floor. Surprisingly, she’d been directed to the CEO’s office, instead of the conference room, and here she’d been cooling her heels for the last half-hour, pondering the consequences of her hasty decision.

  Had she, with a few emotive words, ruined her chances of helping countless women in need? Would the formidable man who had informed her of her inheritance give her the chance to take back her decision?

  A hot little tremor shook through her at the thought of facing him again.

  Maceo Fiorenti seemed the unforgiving sort who would hold a grudge. Perhaps even enjoy taunting her. Hell, he’d been bristling with rancour before they’d exchanged a word. It was clear he saw her as undeserving of this inheritance. Which meant she had a fight on her hands...

  The heavy opaque glass door opened and, as if summoned by her frenzied imagination, he walked in. Faye jumped up from where she’d perched on the edge of the sofa in the vast, dramatically grey-and-glass corner office.

  He barely spared her a glance. Crossing the room, he shrugged off his jacket and tossed it towards a sleek-looking coatrack. It landed perfectly, she was sure, but Faye wasn’t paying attention to the jacket. Her eyes were riveted on the play of sleek muscles; her mouth drying as she took in the sheer breadth of his shoulders, the sculpted back, trim waist and the hint of washboard abs.

  His body was in pristine condition, honed to perfection, with not a single ounce of superfluous flesh on display. Coupled with his height and jaw-dropping features, it was sinful how magnificent he was.

  But she wasn’t here to admire his physique, enthralling as it was. She was here to reverse the damage she’d done.

  She swallowed and opened her mouth, just as he looked up and spoke, his eyes freezing her in place.

  ‘I’m not sure whether to be disappointed at this backtracking or to praise you for the humble pie you’re clearly willing to eat by returning.’

  So much for hoping he’d let it go.

  She forced a shrug. ‘You can be both, as long as you hear me out.’

  ‘Bene. Let’s hear another impassioned speech you don’t really mean.’

  Faye swallowed her irritation. ‘I was too hasty. I shouldn’t have said what I said.’

  He flicked her a dismissive glance, his lips twisting in faint amusement. ‘I have already gathered that much. The question is why did you say it?’

  ‘I meant it at the time. I expected something else when I came here.’

  Some small indication that Luigi hadn’t found her an abomination. That the harrowing sadness she still glimpsed in her mother’s eyes when she was too drugged up to conceal her emotions wasn’t the reason Luigi had turned his back on them.

  That got Maceo’s attention. ‘What exactly did you expect from a woman you ignored for weeks?’

  ‘I didn’t expect anything from your...from Carlotta.’

  Faye wasn’t sure why the word wife stuck in her throat. Perhaps because she found it difficult to imagine this man married to Carlotta. She grimaced inwardly at the sexist thought. For all she knew they’d been a perfect match, wildly in love.

  That curious dart returned, sharper than before. She doubled her efforts to suppress it.

  ‘I wanted to know why Luigi...my stepfather...’

  She stopped, unwilling to divulge the depth of her hurt to a stranger. Even if that stranger had, until recently, been married to the widow of her stepfather.

  Faye shook her head. The whole thing was confounding. ‘When your lawyers mentioned Carlotta had left something for me, I wasn’t expecting it to be shares in Luigi’s company.’

  His eyes hardened. ‘It is a fraction of a single share.’

  She shrugged. ‘Yes. Whatever...’

  ‘There you go again—pretending you don’t give a damn about the fortune that’s landed in your lap. You’re going to have to do better than this flippant performance, Miss Bishop.’

  ‘It’s not a performance. I care about the inheritance, obviously, or I wouldn’t have returned. I just wanted something...more.’

  An expression flickered through his eyes, but he veiled his features with the simple act of glancing down. The avoidance lasted only seconds before he was back to dissecting her with laser-like precision.

  ‘Why now? He’s been dead for over a decade.’

  She wasn’t fooled by his silky tone. Suspicion rolled off him in radioactive waves. Her heart slowed to a dull, painful thud, and she was bracingly aware in that moment of the dark stain she carried. The reason she strove to live her life in light, lest the darkness overwhelm her.

  ‘I thought perhaps he hadn’t wanted to say whatever he needed to say to my face.’

  Again something intangible flickered in his eyes, lifting the hairs on her nape. Again the look disappeared, taking with it that tiny seedling of hope.

  ‘My godfather was many things, but he wasn’t a man who lived in fear of little girls. What do you believe he needed to say to you that he couldn’t when he was alive?’ he asked.

  Faye shook her head, her insides locking tight around her secret. ‘That’s between him and me. Or not, as it turns out, since there’s nothing besides this fraction of a share you’re so annoyed about.’

  Bleak amusement glinted in his eyes. ‘You think that’s what I am? Annoyed?’

  ‘You certainly don’t seem joyful about it—’

  ‘Perhaps because we both know you don’t deserve it, and nor did you do anything to earn it,’ he sliced in.

  ‘Whereas you have?’ Faye wasn’t sure why she felt the urge to needle him. ‘Correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t you the silver spoon recipient of what Luigi built?’

  His face hardened into an iron mask, his eyes livid flames of displeasure. ‘Permit me to correct that misconception. My grandfather started this company with one shop here in Napoli. My father took over when he was twenty-one and expanded the company into Europe. It was my family’s hard work that got it off the ground. Luigi’s contribution was immeasurable, of course, but he didn’t come on board until much later. As to your assumption that I’ve merely ridden on the coat-tails of my forebears—I’ll leave you to discover how wr
ong you are in your own time. You’ve already wasted enough of mine. Do you want to discuss how you will justify your inheritance or waste more time dispensing insults?’

  Faye realised just how much she’d wounded his pride by his haughty expression. Since she knew the company was now a billion-euro luxury confectionery brand, Faye didn’t need telling that he had been responsible for that meteoric expansion.

  She swallowed and attempted to corral her turbulent emotions. ‘I... I’d like to discuss this. What do I need to do?’

  He regarded her for several seconds and, had she been invited to guess, she would’ve said he was disappointed she hadn’t taken a third option and thrown his offer back in his face. But then that peculiar gleam entered his eyes again. Almost as if he was relishing this skirmish. And why wouldn’t he? Hadn’t she just presented him with the perfect opportunity to exact his pound of flesh for her insults?

  With growing apprehension, she watched him stroll around to perch on the corner of his vast glass desk. The motion drew her attention to his muscled thighs, to the high polish of his shoes and to the stern reminder that she was in the rarefied company of one of the world’s youngest billionaires. His expression suggested she should count herself lucky that a man of his calibre was giving her the time of day.

  He could easily throw her out. Why didn’t he? Because he’d made a promise to Carlotta? The wife he’d adored...?

  ‘Miss Bishop?’

  She started. His sharp tone indicated that she’d missed a chunk of what he’d said. ‘I’m sorry, can you repeat that?’

  His lips—comprising a thin upper and a surprisingly full and sensual lower, which alarmingly evoked lustful forbidden thoughts—firmed. ‘I invited you, once again, to sit down.’

  She frowned. He had a thing about ordering her to be seated. Was it merely a power play or...?

  ‘Am I boring you or are you under the misconception that I appreciate flighty females?’ he rasped, his accent thickening with irritation.

  ‘You’re aren’t—and I’m not. I’m just trying to wrap my head around all of this. Haven’t you ever had a bombshell dropped on you?’

  Bleakness dulled his eyes before he blinked it away. ‘More times that you will ever have the misfortune to encounter, I’m sure.’

  She sat down and dragged her gaze from his to the painting behind his desk, pretending to study what looked like a priceless masterpiece as she fought the urge to inform him how wrong he was. How no one in the world should have to bear the burden of the bombshells she’d had dropped on her.

  Abruptly he rose, crossed the room and seated himself directly opposite her, forcing her to focus on him. Not that it was any hardship. He was the epitome of a hot flame on a cold, dark night, drawing a hapless moth to its doom. She stared, taking in the vibrancy of his olive skin, the pronounced jut of his Adam’s apple and the steady pulse beating at his throat.

  An unfettered urge to stroke her fingers over that spot took Faye by surprise, making her swallow a gasp. Maceo’s eyes narrowed, then conducted a sizzling scrutiny of his own before resting on her suddenly tingling mouth.

  She wasn’t sure how long they stayed locked in that tight, breath-robbing capsule. His phone’s ping made her jump, releasing her from the spell.

  Maceo glanced down for a moment before his gaze returned to hers. The heat had receded, and in its place was cool regard. ‘Just so there’s no misinterpreting the information, I’ll have my lawyers provide you with a copy of Carlotta’s will once we’re done here. Your inheritance will be handed over at my discretion. And I’ve decided, Miss Bishop, that you need to appreciate where the money came from. Perhaps once you experience the hard work and sacrifice that went into your windfall, you won’t be as flippant about it.’

  Faye frowned. ‘I told you—that was just shock. It wasn’t my intention to cause offence.’

  ‘Then prove it. I am not simply going to hand over the share. Carlotta didn’t want me to and, after meeting you, I am certainly not inclined to.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean—after meeting me? You barely know me!’

  The moment he leaned back in his seat she knew her response was what he’d angled for all along. And she’d walked straight into his trap.

  ‘Here’s your chance to rectify that, then. Prove that this bequest means more to you than just money.’

  ‘How? Do you wish me to commission a plaque in Luigi and Carlotta’s honour? Sign my name in blood? Maybe get a tattoo on my skin?’

  He shrugged, as if they were discussing the weather, but Faye instinctively knew his every word so far had been calculated to gain this result.

  ‘Nothing so dramatic. My request is simple. Walk in their shoes for a time. You will stay in Italy, immerse yourself in Casa di Fiorenti. Show a little appreciation for what Luigi spent his life building. When I’m satisfied, you’ll receive your inheritance.’

  Faye gripped the armrests of her chair, unsure whether to be shocked or amused. His face was deadly serious, and his eyes warned her to plot her next move wisely or prepare to lose.

  ‘I have obligations. I can’t just abandon them to come here and jump through hoops for you.’

  He shrugged, distracting her with those incredible shoulders. ‘Then by all means leave. Carlotta has granted me a flexible timescale of up to five years. Perhaps she believed you wouldn’t be so quick to turn up once she was gone? Let my assistant know when you think you’ll be available during the next five years and I’ll endeavour to make some time in my schedule for you.’

  Her fingers dug into the expensive leather as he sauntered back to his desk, opened a file and proceeded to ignore her.

  Faye forced her jaw to unlock. ‘That doesn’t work for me.’

  He didn’t look up. ‘Then we’re at an impasse, Miss—’

  ‘My name is Faye. I’d prefer you use it instead of that barbed formality designed to put me in my place—wherever you deem that to be. Believe me, I’m very aware of our differences, and I promise I won’t tell if you come down a step or two from your lofty perch.’

  He relaxed deeper into his seat, taking a stance that she was learning meant keener speculation, a deadlier attack. ‘What do you do for a living...Faye?’

  The effect of his voice uttering her name was unexpectedly visceral. Disturbing enough to double her pulse rate and make her aware of every inch of her skin.

  ‘Why do I think you already know the answer to that question?’

  He offered a cunning smile. ‘Carlotta mentioned that you spend your time on a farm in... Where is it, exactly?’

  Her heart missed a beat, but she fought to keep her expression neutral as she wondered what else Carlotta had told him about her. Had she mentioned her mother at all?

  ‘It’s a place in southwest England, in Devon.’

  His gaze wandered lazily over her clothes. ‘Some sort of hippie commune, I gather?’ he drawled.

  ‘It’s a little more than that.’

  A lot more, in fact. It was a vital place for respite and support. But she wasn’t going to elaborate just for him to disparage her. Or, heaven forbid, decipher why it was that her mother lived there and she devoted every minute she could spare to it.

  ‘And what do you do there?’

  ‘I’m a social worker by profession, but I currently volunteer there.’

  Since her employment contract had ended, and there were no funds to hire her even on a temporary basis, Faye had been offering her services for free at New Paths Centre while she looked for another job. As much as she hated to admit it, Carlotta’s bequest would do financial wonders for New Paths and also fund other much-needed centres—a project she’d been pouring her energy into since she’d left university, with little to no success.

  ‘If you’re in between jobs, what’s the great hurry to return to your farm?’

  His voice oozed the
kind of disdain people reserved for shameless freeloaders. But Faye didn’t waste any effort on being affronted. She was used to being judged by her appearance. She stared back without answering. While he remained completely unaffected her silence.

  ‘Perhaps you’d be better disposed to stay if I informed you that your work here wouldn’t be voluntary?’ His thin smile didn’t take the sting out of his words. ‘Casa di Fiorenti has a reputation for paying its employees well. Even its interns.’

  He named a price that made her gasp. And immediately suspicious.

  ‘Are you serious?’ With just one month’s pay she’d be able to secure her mother’s room and board at New Paths for another year.

  ‘That’s for a mid-level employee. As Luigi’s stepdaughter—’

  ‘I don’t want any handouts. Any job I undertake will be rewarded on merit, not because of my connection to Luigi,’ she cut in, this time showing her affront.

  His smile hardened. ‘Believe me, you will work for it. I have no appetite for scroungers. What I intended to state was that as Luigi’s stepdaughter you would be required to learn about the company from the ground up, as my parents required of me, preferably with a year at a cocoa-growing facility overseas. But, since you don’t have that kind of time to spare, you’ll stay here in Naples, where I can keep my eye on you.’

  She flushed, the tension easing out of her even as he eyed her mockingly. ‘Oh. I see.’

  ‘The most appropriate place for you to start will be in the research and development department. I will reserve the right to rotate your position as I see fit.’

  Faye wanted to protest at his assumption that she’d fall in line with his wishes. Or even stay in Italy. But as she glared at him for his high-handedness she knew she wouldn’t walk away. Wouldn’t squander the chance to make a significant impact.

  Her mother’s continued care and well-being would be assured at New Paths. And, as heartbreaking as it was to acknowledge it, her mother would probably not even register Faye’s absence.