The Marriage Trap (11 page)

God, she had only herself to rely on for so long she wouldn’t know how to make hard choices for others. Any man she knew would’ve walked away and cleansed his hands of the mess. But not him. No, once a person belonged to Michael’s world, he’d look out for them forever.

A burning need to be the woman he cared for so passionately rocked her mind, her body, and shook her soul. What would it feel like to be claimed so completely by him?

Maggie’s throat tightened with emotion. His delicious spicy scent surrounded her, and his body heat burned through his clothes and reached out to entangle her. She craved to unbutton his shirt and smooth her palms over all that naked flesh, open her legs, and allow him to dive in and stop the endless ache inside of her. Instead, she dropped her hand from his and took a step back. She was tired of running sometimes, but it seemed the only thing she knew how to do well.

“If we don’t let them make some mistakes, how will they ever know?” she asked softly. “Carina is crazy about you. She just needs a little breathing room.” She paused. “Your family is lucky to have you watching over them. Now, let me make a phone call to see if we can fix this.”

She grabbed her smartphone and dialed.

•   •   •

Michael watched the closed door and waited for his sister to exit.
Dios,
he was trapped in female hell and saw no way out. Yes, Venezia had been difficult, but once she fell in love with Dominick she’d calmed, and he was able to relax. Of course, her decision to take a career outside the family business caused fireworks, and he was still disappointed, but that was mild in comparison with Carina’s sweet innocence on the verge of decay.

Julietta had been a breeze, not interested in boys and driven to succeed in her career and prove her worth. She reminded him so much of Mama with her ability to focus and a sharp business sense that built La Dolce Famiglia. His papa may have turned the place into a successful chain, but without his mother’s vision and drive, there would have been nothing.

Carina was different. She’d always been Papa’s little girl and held a lightness of spirit no one else claimed in the family. She experienced emotions more deeply, saw things no one else did, and her ability to give without caution had worried Papa.

The scene at his father’s deathbed flashed in his mind. The promise to keep his family safe and protected. To always take care of the girls. And to lead the bakery into a successful chain. Failure was never an option.

Sweat pricked his brow as he gazed at the three men hanging around, waiting for Carina. They were definitely older. Was he nuts to even consider letting her go?

He marched toward the small refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of water, giving the cap a vicious twist. His fake wife had done it again. His innocent sister had been in a photo shoot for male underwear, had a makeover, and wanted to run around with models. Why did he bring Maggie here again?

Oh, yeah. Because she was his wife.

He brooded as he drank his water and watched her. He hated the tiny leap his heart gave when she first turned and met his gaze. He was becoming used to the fiery connection that zinged between them, the tiny flare of awareness that lit those cat-green eyes and tempted him to push boundaries. The physical temptation he could handle.

It was the other things that were starting to bug him.

Her ability to surprise him was the worst. He’d expected a certain intimacy on the set with Maggie and the models. He’d never been on a live shoot, and her sharp eye and easy manner fascinated him. At first, Carina distracted him on the stage, but soon Maggie pulled his gaze until everything else fell away. She took control of her scene in a way that never threatened, but in fact encouraged teamwork.

Oh, she flirted. It was part of the woman’s core. But as he continued to study her, he spotted so much more beneath the rippling, cool surface, like discovering a vivid coral hidden beneath the muddy brambles of dull sea plants.

She always kept her distance.

Not physically. She touched, often, until even he squirmed when she had to actually adjust the bulge between the models’ legs. She laughed and teased and gave naughty winks in good fun. But there was a cool detachment in her aura, surrounding her like a thicket of thornbushes bushes with nasty-looking spines. Look, but don’t touch. Touch, but don’t feel. Her emotions were locked up and controlled to a point of strangling. Yet, when she looked at him, she seemed tempted to give him more. And he wanted more.

But would she say no? Her pride battered from their first encounter—her false belief he was in love with her best friend—all of the factors conspired to form a big fat No Way.

Unless he took what he wanted.

Her lithe frame clad in sleek black pants, a matching sleeveless black tunic blouse, and ridiculously high black sandals emphasized every graceful motion and luscious curve. Her gorgeous cinnamon hair played a game of hide-and-seek, showing off the tender nape of her neck, her soft cheeks, and her long, refined nose that always looked down upon him. To be the prince to break down those cutthroat defenses pulled to his Italian core. When had another woman ever challenged him like this?

He wanted her.

The sound of his name snapped through his thoughts. Maggie pointed to her phone, then motioned him over. “Okay, Sierra’s free. She can be here in a bit and drive her home tonight. You can trust her. But it’s up to you.”

His heartbeat sped up at the thought of sending his sister off with men and a strange woman he didn’t know. But something in Maggie’s words rang true. What if he didn’t let Carina experiment a bit and then she exploded? He couldn’t screw it up. Carina and his promise to Papa were too important.

“Maggie, can I trust my sister with this woman?”

Something flared to life in his fake wife’s eyes. A memory of pain, then regret. “Yes. I would never put Carina in a vulnerable position where she could be hurt. I know Sierra well, and she will not let something happen to your sister.”

He nodded. “Set it up. I’ll talk to Carina.”

“Talk to me about what?”

He turned and she stood beside him. Chin up in defiance. Eyes glittering. She’d left on the makeup, but even Michael admitted it was so much better than that goop she’d put on before. Now, she looked fresh. Herself, only better. “Maggie made arrangements to have her friend chaperone you,” he said.

Carina gasped. “
Dios!
Are you kidding me? For real, I can go?”

Michael put up his hand. “There are rules. You text me and let me know where you are at all times. Sierra will be in charge and will take you home. And before you go, I have a talk with them.” He stabbed his finger at the models, now donning T-shirts and jeans and combing their designer haircuts. “
Capisce
?”

Carina nodded frantically. “
Si, grazie,
Michael.”

His heart bloomed at her happy, open expression.

“They have the photos ready,” Maggie said.

They joined her at the small computer, which flashed a bunch of photos in a rapid stream. He listened as Maggie went through them, pointing out problems and deficiencies, what she liked and didn’t. Her opinions were bold, bossy, and turned him on big-time. Nothing like a strong woman in business—he’d always craved that in his mate. Unfortunately, many of the women he dated loved the idea of him taking care of them, and though he may come from a traditional household, he yearned for something more in his wife. Someone with a little brass.

The screen clicked on an image and everyone stopped. Michael sucked in his breath.

“That’s it,” Maggie whispered. “I got it.”

Michael stared at the photo. Carina leaned against a fake wall, staring out into space. Cast in half shadow, her figure was blurred, luminous. The features of her face were hidden by a wave of thick, curly hair, and her lips were pursed in longing for something . . . out there.

The three men were carefully positioned behind her to show off the product, but it didn’t seem posed. As if they had spotted an angel, they seemed rooted to the floor, entranced by her, expressions of need flickering across their strong features. The physical aspect of the picture paled in relation to the unexpressed emotions in each body, compelling the onlooker to stop and look deeper.

A whoot sounded from the production guy and he high-fived Maggie. She tilted her head and looked at him. “Can I use it, Michael?”

Carina shook her head, still gazing as if in a trance. “How did you do that, Maggie?” She breathed in awe. “It’s so beautiful.”

Maggie chuckled. “Part of my job. You’re the star, though. You’re the one who’s beautiful.”

Michael watched his sister blush and squirm in delight. His body shook slightly, as if preparing for a lockdown. How was she able to see exactly what his sister needed? Yes, she was a woman, but she’d always touted herself as disconnected from the usual woman stuff. Cooking, gossipy chatter, kids, domestic scenes. Yet, she offered his sibling a compliment that simply came from her soul, with no thought to sugarcoat or be fake.

Michael leaned down and pressed a kiss to Carina’s head. Then he looked into the eyes of a girl who was no longer a girl. “She’s right, you know. You are beautiful. And yes, Maggie, you can use it.”

The sudden emotion choked at his throat until he made himself turn abruptly and disappear down the hallway. Damned if he didn’t need a moment to get himself together.

Chapter Eight

S
he was approved to be married in a civil ceremony right now. Today. This moment.

Maggie sank down in the luxurious bubbles and blew out a breath. A spray of foam shot up and sprinkled the air with tiny pockets that caught the last rays of light and shimmered. She wiggled her feet, propped up her legs on the sides, and soaked.

Their visit to the court office in Milan terrorized her. Talking about a fake marriage was one thing; actually filing papers was another. After obtaining the Atto Notorio with two witnesses, they obtained their Nulla Osta—the final declaration of their intent to marry—after stacks of paperwork were approved, notarized, and filed.

Maggie groaned. Because of Michael’s high-ranking and well-known contacts, his mother had eased the paperwork chain so they were able to take care of everything in one busy afternoon. Maggie lifted up her hand and looked again at the cheery sparkle of the diamond ring encircling her finger. Michael’s plan seemed foolproof. He’d string his mother along for the next few months until Venezia was safely married, then advise them of a terrible fallout and their breakup.

Messy, but necessary. Maggie gave a deep sigh as the delicious scent of sandalwood calmed her senses. It was truly amazing the lengths Michael was going through just to help his sister, and his actions bespoke a respect for his mother that touched her. Instead of waving off her crazy demands that he marry and allowing his sister to take the brunt, he’d composed a plan to make everyone happy.

Except himself.

Her skin tingled and she rested a hand on the swell of her breast, stroking gently. What type of woman would make Michael happy? Someone sweet and undemanding? Or would he get terribly bored within the month? And why did she care so much?

Because she wanted him.

The truth slammed into her like a rear-end jolt. Yes, she’d always known they had sexual chemistry. But sleeping in the same bed, seeing him in his element, was doing terrible things to her. She craved to finally sate her appetite and be done with it. After all, if her track record was any indication, she’d be happily satisfied by morning and could move on. Nothing was worse than that empty, gnawing feeling in her stomach when she rolled over and realized the man next to her was not The One. Would never be The One. Surely, a good bout of healthy, satisfying sex would finally quiet her hormones.

But what about Alexa?

She nibbled on her lower lip at the thought. He may want to deny it, but he loved her best friend. Of course, after this trip, he’d finally stay far away from Alexa and her family, and Maggie wouldn’t need to worry he’d muck things up.

It was just sex. They played at being married anyway, so it might give their ruse a bit of punch. Nobody would ever need to know. They were adults and could handle a strictly physical relationship.

She wanted to have sex with Michael Conte. Excitement slithered down her spine. Her nipples pebbled under the slap of water. She wouldn’t be settling for second best because, once again, the bargain was on her terms. Her rules.

Oh, yeah.

Her fantasy exploded in front of her when the door opened.

A girlish yelp escaped her lips. She slithered farther down underneath the bubbles and hastily pulled back her leg from the edge. Michael strode in, a glass of white wine in one hand, a plate with a luscious crème puff in the other, and a full, wicked grin curving his lips.

“
Buon giorno, cara
. Are you enjoying your bath?”

She spluttered and tried hard not to blush like a schoolgirl. “Are you kidding me? What are you doing here? As most married women would state, I have a headache.”

He had the audacity to chuckle. “Ah, I have heard that expression before. We just uncorked one of our best bottles of pinot grigio, and I thought you’d enjoy a sip while you soak.”

She frowned. “Well, okay. Thanks.” Maggie grabbed the half-filled glass and breathed in the scent of lemony citrus and tangy oak. “You can put the plate over there.”

He set it on the small ledge at the end of the tub and stared at her. Refusing to squirm under his open, hot stare, she glared right back, sticking her lip out to blow some stray wet strands of hair out of her eyes. “You can go now.”

He sat down on the small lip a few inches away. He’d changed out of his suit and looked crisp and casual in worn jeans and a white button-down shirt. His feet were bare and his hair fell loose to his shoulders, which somehow made him even sexier. His presence squeezed out all the breath in the room and left none for her. Already that familiar zing tried to stab her like some sort of Sex Superhero. What was with that?

She waited him out but since she was the naked one, he didn’t seem to feel the need to make conversation. “What are you still doing here?”

“I thought we’d chat.”

“Fine. Strip off your clothes and let’s talk.”

He didn’t move, but his features shifted and suddenly, he was all hot male predator. “Sure about that request?”

Damn, her usual snarky comments were having the wrong effect. Why wasn’t he walking away? A light of challenge gleamed within his eyes, and in horror, her body lit to life. The water swished between her open thighs. Her nipples hardened beneath the bubbles. She caught her breath as his gaze deliberately dropped and caressed her hidden, naked form. What the hell was going on?

She changed tactics. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Our deal.”

Maggie shrugged. “Thought we were on course. Papers are filed so your mom knows we’re legit. Did you see how she asked a zillion questions to make sure everything was in order? She’s a crafty one.”

“Always was.”

“My shoot is over. Dress shopping is behind me.”

“Good.”

“Another family dinner is Friday night, oh, and Julietta wants me to visit the bakery with you tomorrow.”

“Fine.”

She frowned. “Why are you still here?”

“Because I want something.”

“What?”

“You,
cara.
”

Her tummy plummeted. She worked her jaw up and down but nothing came out, just weird squeaks because she had no air left in her lungs. Michael never moved, just remained poised on the edge of the tub. His easy posture contradicted the heat and demand in his eyes as he stared at her like a hungry cat ready to pounce on his evening meal. Oh, and just the thought of him biting her somewhere made her limbs go loose and liquid. What had he said?

“What did you say?”

His lip quirked. “You heard me. Here, try a bite of this.”

“I don’t want a frickin’—”

He reached out and pushed the crème puff slowly between her lips. She opened on reflex, then bit down. The flaky, buttery taste of the pastry exploded in her mouth. Rich crème coated her tongue in sheer pleasure. He watched her chew, and his thumb ran across her lower lip to catch the last bit of crème lingering. With deliberate motions, he put his finger in his mouth and sucked.

Her thighs tensed. Wetness seeped from between her legs and she knew it had nothing to do with the water. Her eyes widened as he tipped the glass to her lips. One precious drop fell on her tongue, and the icy sting of liquid slid down her throat and seduced a moan. He set the wine on the ledge and leaned in.

“Good?” he murmured.

Maggie blinked.

His gaze held her spellbound. Rough stubble covered his jaw and matched the image of a civilized man gone bad. The intoxicating scent of musk and soap filled her nostrils.

“Uh. Yeah.”

His hands skimmed her shoulders, teasing a line through the bubbles and leaving a trail of peppered gooseflesh. “What scent is this?”

“Huh?” Oh, dear God, she’d become a mute. She struggled to surface from the physical torture of his touch right above her breasts. “Sandalwood.”

“It’s been driving me crazy. When I finally taste you, will you remind me of earthy musk, sweet against my tongue?”

She realized then he was the master. He’d pretended she was in charge the whole time. No wonder she amused him! Her limbs hung limply, her center ached, and her skin burned even underwater. The man had bided his time and got her when she was the most vulnerable. Why did he suddenly want to change the rules of the game? Maggie forced her brain to work through the sensual haze.

“Why are you doing this now?” She hung fiercely to the thread of irritation, knowing if she lost it she’d throw herself at him and beg him to take her. “Are you playing some sick game with me?”

His face tightened with determination. “You’re the one playing games,
la mia tigrotta,
” he growled. “I’ve wanted you from day one, and I never denied it. I’m tired of fighting with you when we can be doing other things. More pleasurable things . . . for both of us.”

The fact he’d come to the exact realization she had pissed her off.
She
was supposed to proposition
him.
Michael was mad if he thought she’d meekly sit by and let him seduce her and stay in charge. It was her idea to finally have sex and get him out of her system. Damned if she’d allow him to win this round.

“I need time to think.”

He rose from the tub and nodded politely.

“Please hand me a towel.”

He glanced back at her. The struggle on his face, whether or not to push, finally settled. Maggie realized a layer of trust had begun to build, and knowing that as angry as he would get, he’d always remain in control softened a fear deep inside that had been buried for way too long. He grabbed the pink fluffy bath towel off the hook and handed it to her, then discreetly turned around.

Maggie grinned in triumph. Slowly, she rose from the bath, wringing out the dripping ends of her hair and wiping down most of the bubbles. Then she dropped the towel on the floor.

“Okay, I’m ready now.”

•   •   •

Michael turned.

She was naked.

Gloriously, vibrantly, bare-ass stark naked.

He dimly remembered the first time he’d seen a pair of naked breasts. As a young man on the brink of sexuality, he’d thought nothing could ever beat that moment for him.

This one did.

She stood at full towering height, head thrown back, with the towel pooled around her feet. An endless expanse of golden smooth skin lay before him, damp from the bath, glistening with the remains of the bubbles. Her breasts were high, full, and crowned with red nipples. His mouth watered to taste and suck on the ripe fruit. Her legs went on forever, lean and muscled. And a perfect triangle of cinnamon-colored hair hid her most intimate secrets. Barely. He scented her arousal and her body beckoned him.

Yet, he stood stock-still in the middle of the ceramic tiled floor, completely unable to move.

She’d tortured him all afternoon. The brush of her hair on her shoulders, her sarcastic wit, her vibrancy that shimmered even when she stood still. He remembered those few precious inches the other night. If his hand had dipped just a tiny bit lower, he would have been able to touch liquid fire.

The woman was under his skin and there was only one way to remove her. Sleep with her. Wring her out of his system, and in the morning, maybe they’d both be normal. Hell, they weren’t right for each other. They wanted different things—craved different lifestyles. He wanted a big family and a settled home with minimum drama. He wanted someone sweet, fairly pliable, but with enough spunk to keep him from getting bored.

Sex could fix everything. He was sure of it.

Maggie’s rejection had stung, but he refused to force her. The deep disappointment in her inability to be honest with him only proved his point that they weren’t evenly matched. He touted honesty as one of the most important factors in a relationship, and whatever secrets she hid, he bet those would never be shared. With him. With anyone.

But, again, she’d surprised him. On her own damn terms.

She had the gall to shrug and look down her nose at him like she was dressed in a royal gown. “I agree with your proposition to sleep together. But since you can’t even speak, I’ll go get dressed and we’ll revisit the topic later. When you’re more”—her gaze drifted downward to his rapidly rising erection and she smirked—“functional.”

She headed toward the door.

Two steps and he closed the distance. Locked the knob. And slowly turned her around.

Her eyes widened. With deliberate motions, he backed her up against the door. Tilted her chin. And pushed his knee between her thighs to spread her wide open. She caught her breath as he lowered his mouth to hers.

“I’m ready,
cara,
” he whispered. “Are you?”

His mouth took hers.

He loved to seduce women. Loved the slow slide of tongue, the catch of breath, the easy climb of desire as each step led toward completion. He considered himself a master in the art of pacing, but one thrust between her lips wrecked any type of control he’d ever had.

Her body slipped against his, as wet as the heat between her thighs and as blistering as flame. This was no easy, gentle, let’s-get-it-on kiss. This was a no-holds-barred war with no survivors. And Michael loved every inch of his total surrender.

He dove deep into her taste. She moaned and pushed her hips up, her fingers digging into his hair as she held him against her and demanded more. His hands slid over her body and reveled in every glorious inch, palming her breasts and tweaking the tips with his thumbs as he swallowed her moans. He nudged her legs farther apart while she panted, then hooked one of her thighs around his waist to secure her. He ripped his lips from hers and stared into mossy-green eyes dazed with lust.

His hand moved from one of her breasts and traveled downward, stopping at the top of her belly. “I’ve been dying to sink my fingers into you,” he murmured. “Are you ready for me?”

Her breath was a sexy whisper of sound. “You talk too much, Count.”

He smiled and slid his fingers into the swollen folds.

She cried out and threw her head back against the door. Her silky, pulsing channel closed around him and squeezed. He muttered a curse at her response, her need for him evident in the rush of liquid that soaked his fingers.
Dios,
she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, so open to every sensation. He stroked her deep, curling his fingers, and hit the sweet spot as she pumped her hips and reached closer to the edge.