The Marriage Trap (16 page)

Annoyance flitted across her face. She threw her purse on the table and took out her camera. In typical fashion, his
tigrotta
marched over to him, stood on tiptoe, and got in his face. “Is that what you do to your sisters when you don’t agree with their opinion? No wonder they walked out. Oh, trust me, I can never forget my
place
. I don’t want to be involved in this shit, but you keep messing up. For God’s sake, Count, wake up. You treat your sisters with a patronizing air they can’t stand. Julietta is perfectly capable of running the business without you, yet instead of respecting her place, you challenge all of her decisions.”

“Enough.” His brows lowered in a frown. “You have no clue how my sisters feel.”

She laughed without humor. “Are you kidding? It’s crystal clear. They adore you and believe you practically walk on water. They just want some kudos from their big brother. A little respect for what they’ve accomplished. Do you know Venezia believes you think she’s a joke? She may dress celebrities and gain respect in her field, but it means nothing because you don’t acknowledge her success. And Carina? She loves to paint, but you term it a cute little hobby, pat her on the head, and force her to attend business school. She’s got tons of talent and she aches to pursue it, but wants your approval. You’re not seeing her, and the woman she’s becoming. And Julietta keeps fighting the idea she’s an imposter and the business will never truly belong to her. You’ve made her doubt her instincts.”

A muscle ticked in his face. “I respect them and love them more than you know.
Dios,
they are my life! I sacrificed everything so they can be happy.”

Suddenly, her face softened. “I know,” she whispered. “You’ve done everything a father would have done. You supported them with money, discipline, and good advice. You kept them safe. You made sure they did the right thing and wanted for nothing. But you forgot the most important part. They don’t want a substitute father. They want an older brother who can joke with them, support them, and let them shine. On their own. They don’t need you to take care of them anymore, Michael.” She touched his cheek and tenderness slipped through the cracks and right into his heart. “They just want you to tell them you love them. Exactly the way they are.”

Her words rocked through him and tore down his comfortable blinders.

She held up her camera. “This is what I see for the image of La Dolce Famiglia,” she said. The screen showed the shot of his mother, bowl clasped in her embrace, a dreamy expression on her face in her homey kitchen. “It’s not about sex and food. It’s about this. Her dreams for her family, her determination to be the best, and the quality she strives for every day. That’s what your motto and advertising campaign should be.”

He stared silently at the screen. When he looked up, an array of emotions flickered across her features.

“You’re so lucky to have them. Make a mistake and they’ll forgive you. That’s what family is about.” She trailed off as if thinking about another event. “I don’t belong here, Michael. With you. With them. I can’t do this anymore.”

She turned and fled, leaving him alone with his thoughts. Everything he believed in and worked hard to maintain rose to mock him. His past swam before his eyes, and he tamped down the excruciating pain of failure. His mother’s face stared up at him from the camera. She deserved more than this. She deserved more from him.

He pulled out the leather chair and sat down. Slowly, he clicked past all the photos Maggie had taken since she arrived. They were so much more than pretty landscapes. In each shot, she’d reached something elusive, whether it be a color or shape that struck the onlooker. He watched as his four nephews came into focus, a candid glimpse of grinning, messy, mischievous boys as they mashed clay between their fingers. Slowly, he lay down the camera and faced the truth.

He was falling in love with her.

At the same time, she scared the crap out of him. Maggie wasn’t the woman he’d ever imagined spending his life with. She twisted everything inside of him until he vibrated at a high pitch, and she made the long line of other women he’d taken to bed fade away into nothingness. She was prickly, hardheaded, honest to a fault, and hid a soft center that melted his heart.

The worst of the whole encounter was his realization that she was right.

He hadn’t done his job. Images of his father dying before his eyes tortured him. The guilt of leaving him to pursue his own selfish dreams while his father worked long hours and tried to build a company his children never even believed in.

Emptiness ripped at his gut. But Maggie spoke the truth. Throughout his climb to push the company to the top, he’d refused to see his sisters as equals. In his mind, they reflected the young image of grief-stricken youths in desperate need of protection and stability. Even with his mother’s strength, Michael knew it was up to him to provide and assume a leadership role. So he did. He disciplined, advised, and led.

But he never told them good job. He never told them he loved them. He never listened.

He had done each of them a terrible injustice. He refused to allow Julietta any real rewards for stepping in as CEO. She completed all the menial tasks on a day-to-day basis, yet never retained any glory. He kept all the good stuff for himself like a selfish child and never gave his full support.

With Carina, he was so used to her being the baby of the family, he never thought of asking her what she wanted. He ordered, demanded, and expected. Sure, he knew she liked art, but not until Maggie pointed out her talent did he realize she may have a dream of her own, or even need encouragement to pursue something not business oriented.

But the worst, by far,
was Venezia. Shame filled him as the admission rose up inside and choked the air from his lungs. Venezia followed her dream to be a stylist, yet he constantly berated her for not taking responsibility for the family business, and he belittled her choice. Now, he realized why. He was jealous—jealous she was able to go after her dream, yet he’d lost his own. Somehow, he needed to let the anger go. He’d always prided himself on making his own decisions, and quitting racing was his choice. Venezia should not have to pay the price for following her dream, or for the loss of his.

And Maggie? She was about to flee. He had no idea how he was going to convince her, or tear down her careful control enough to get under her skin, but damned if he wasn’t going to give it his best shot. He would not let her get on that plane until he convinced her to surrender her soul. Then, and only then, could he know if it would work for them.

The shattered pieces of his life lay broken around him. Time to make a decision. First, make it right with his sisters. Second, take a leap of faith. Maggie had the heart and soul of a wounded warrior, and it was time he fought for her.

He needed to find his fake wife and somehow convince her to stay.

Chapter Ten

M
aggie lay on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. Her decision was final.

She was getting the hell out of Dodge.

Ever since she stepped foot in the Conte household, she’d lost her balance. She had gotten sucked into family dramas and in a weird way, she’d started to care. That was a no-no. She needed to be able to distance herself from Michael and get used to the knowledge that he wouldn’t be around any longer. He would not be hanging around Alexa. She didn’t care how he tried to get out of that bargain, she’d make sure he stuck to his word. Anyway, the last thing she needed was to moon over some guy who wanted different things than she.

Didn’t he?

Her thoughts whirled and she rolled to her side and groaned. Why was she beginning to doubt herself? Her initial decision to sleep with him and wring him out of her system backfired. One night and she already cared way too much. What if she got attached? What if she got some ridiculous ideas about love and permanence? Sure, he’d give her multiple orgasms and physically she’d be satisfied. But what about her heart? Could her heart handle such a blow?

Nope. Call her a coward, but when Michael returned, she’d be getting on the next plane back home. She’d say her mother got sick. Or come up with a death in the family—some long-lost uncle. Anything to get her far, far away.

A knock sounded on the door. She sat up in immediate dread. “Who is it?”

“Carina. Can I come in?”

“Sure.”

The younger girl bounced in and sat next to her on the bed. Maggie smiled at the happy look on her face. For a little while, she had bucked her moodiness and seemed lighthearted. Her makeup was applied with a more subtle hand, and her clothes showed off a bit of her figure, unlike the baggy jeans and T-shirts the girl usually sported. At least Maggie had helped Carina in some way. One item she managed not to screw up.

“How was your evening out?” Maggie asked. “And before you answer, it better be good. I dealt with your cousins last night and I’m still recovering.”

Carina laughed and crossed her legs. Her eyes lit with excitement. “Maggie, it was so awesome. I loooooved Sierra; she was supercool. And gorgeous. And the guys were really nice and polite. It was a big group so I never felt uncomfortable and guess what? They said I’d make a great model!”

Maggie smiled. “You would, but I don’t know if that’s something you’d want to pursue, Carina. Personally, I think you’d do better off with a college education and your art. You’re talented.”

A blush tinted her cheeks. “Thanks. Yeah, Michael and Mama would probably freak. But it was cool they actually thought I’d be good enough to model. They invited me to their next shoot, and now I have their cell numbers and we’re texting back and forth.”

“I’m glad you made some new friends.”

“Me, too. Can I ask for a favor?”

“As long as it doesn’t entail babysitting.”

“Can I borrow one of your scarves? Do you have anything ice blue? I want to try on a new outfit and I need a nice accessory.” She wrinkled her nose. “Venezia throws a fit when I borrow from her, and Julietta only owns business clothes.”

“Sure. I brought some extra in my travel bag. It’s in the closet—help yourself.”

Carina chattered about the details of her night, and Maggie leaned back on the headboard, relaxing under the ritual of clothes borrowing and girl talk. Carina oohed and aahed over a bunch of her scarves, took two, then paused. “What’s this?”

Maggie looked up. Her heart stopped.

Carina held a small fabric-covered book with a bright purple cover. The girl stared at it curiously, then flipped it open.

“No!” Maggie scrambled to the side in an effort to grab it.

“What’s the matter? Is this a love spell? Oh, my God, it is. How cool.”

Oh. My. God.

The memory of her drunken night slammed into her brain and gave her an instant headache. Yes, she’d supported Alexa when her friend had cast the spell for a man. Yes, Alexa ended up marrying Maggie’s brother, and they were happy. But there was no way it had to do with the spell. In fact, Nick was the complete opposite of everything Alexa had originally asked for, but when she pointed that out, Alexa just laughed and said Earth Mother had been right all along.

Alexa forced her to take the book of spells and use it. Maggie had refused at first, but eventually threw it in her bag and forgot about it.

Until that night. When she realized she might never find the right man to marry, never have children, and be alone for the rest of her life. Then she drank too many margaritas, watched a sappy movie, and dug out that violet book. Then proceeded to make a fire in her living room and create the dreaded list.

The qualities she demanded made her squeeze her eyes closed to shut out the memory. Stupid and juvenile. Of course, love spells didn’t work, but slipping the paper under the bed seemed like the least she could do after making a frickin’ fire and burning the list. She’d never told Alexa, one of the first things she had ever hidden from her best friend. Better to keep the secret in case the news spread.

Anyway, there wasn’t a man in the world who contained the qualities she sought. She may as well look up
hero
in the dictionary and wish for Superman to appear outside her condo window.

She totally forgot she’d thrown the book in her travel case in an effort to forget what she had done. Now, the truth of her lunacy mocked her in neon violet. “Carina, it’s nothing, really, I forgot it was in there.” She laughed, but even to her own ears it sounded fake. “My girlfriend gave it to me as a joke.”

Carina skimmed the pages. “Did you do it? The love spell? Is that how you and Michael met?”

Humiliation dragged her down like the sucking tide of an undertow. “No, of course, not. It’s just a joke and I forgot to get rid of it.”

Carina’s eyes widened. “Can I have it?”

Maggie fisted her hands and stared at the book in horror. “What? No, no, it’s a silly thing. That stuff doesn’t work and your brother will kill me if he sees you with a witchcraft book.”

“Not witchcraft. This says you have to list all the qualities you want and need in a mate. Follow the spell and he comes to you.” She flipped through the pages while Maggie fought sheer panic. “Wow, it says you have to make a fire to honor Earth Mother. Oh, Maggie, please? I swear I won’t tell a soul, it’s just supercool.”

Maggie’s mouth hung open like a guppy. Why hadn’t she thrown it out when she had the chance? It was like a bad penny that kept showing up. She was going to kill Alexa for forcing her to take it. Absolutely kill her.

“Maggie? Please?”

With growing anticipation, she stared at the book, as if waiting to see if it would disappear in a cloud of smoke. No such luck. What a rotten day, beginning with a crazy cat. She closed her eyes and hoped this wasn’t going to be the biggest mistake of her life. “Okay, fine. But don’t tell anyone. You know it’s just a joke, right? Tell me you’re not thinking of taking this seriously, Carina, or I’ll throw it away now.”

Carina shook her head and held up her hand. “Promise. I just think it’s fun. When I’m done looking at it, I’ll get rid of it. Thanks, Maggie!” She bounded out of the room and shut the door behind her.

Maggie rolled over and smashed her face into the pillow.

Enough. She despised pity parties, especially her own. She’d start packing her bags, line up a plane ticket, and get out of here.

A knock sounded on the door.

She groaned into the pillow. “Go away!”

“Maggie, I’m coming in.”

Michael.

She shot up. Maybe this was for the best. Get the confrontation over with. He’d scream at her for messing up his family life, she’d tell him she was out of here, and they’d come to some type of arrangement so they can both get what they want. She smoothed her hair down and took a deep breath. “Come in.”

He entered and shut the door behind him. Her mouth dried and her stomach fluttered. His presence filled up the room and crowded out every spare inch with a masculinity that was a natural part of who he was. Maggie had a crazy vision of stripping off his clothes and surrendering to him right here. Right now.

Before she left.

She fought the impulse and remained calm. His dark eyes seared into hers as if waiting for her to speak. “I suppose you’re here to yell.”

His lip quirked. “Not this time.”

The silence pulsed with an undercurrent of danger. The sizzling sexual tension lit between them, causing her to scooch back one inch away from him. Just an inch. “Oh. Well, good, because I’m not the in the mood. I’ve had a crappy day.”

“Me, too. I’m about to change that.”

She heard a
thump
and realized he’d toed off his shoes. The elegant fabric of his shirt barely contained his broad chest and muscled arms. Maggie curled her fingers to curb the urge to explore each hard angle of his body. She barreled on. “Michael, we have to talk. I want to go home.”

One brow lifted but he remained silent. He slowly unraveled his navy-blue tie from the knot, slid it around his neck, and let it drop. “Why?”

Her mouth fell open. “Um, let me think about this. Because this whole trip has been a disaster. Because I’m miserable, and you’re miserable, and we’re making a mess out of your family. Because I hate lying, and I can’t spend one more day pretending to be your loving, dutiful wife. I’ll come up with an excuse. Say someone died. A long-lost cousin or uncle so I won’t feel guilty. I think we made our intentions known to be married by a priest, and I’m sure we can keep up the ruse until Venezia’s wedding.”

Michael cocked his head as if listening, then slowly slid the hair tie from his hair. The strands shimmered around his face and fell to his shoulders. The gesture made her thighs clench in agony as wet heat rushed to her center and throbbed. She itched to photograph him—a powerful, dangerous male contained in a civilized suit. God, he was beautiful.

She chattered on with a mad effort to reign in the red-hot want that speared her. “In fact, if you really want me to, I’ll come to Venezia’s wedding. I gave you my word, and I intend to keep my side of the bargain.”

She stared helplessly up at him, certain some type of game was being played but she was not a party to the rules.

A slow smile curved his lips. “Running scared,
la mia tigrotta
?” he drawled. “I’m disappointed. One night together and you already can’t handle it?”

She gasped. “You’re the one who can’t handle the truth, Count. I’m tired of pussyfooting around you like the rest of your family. It’s time you wake up and face the way you view your sisters and admit you love control so much you’ll do anything to keep it.”

“You are correct.” His fingers flicked open the first few buttons of his shirt.

She blinked. A swirl of black hair. Deep olive skin. Flat nipples on a mass of muscle. “Huh? What did you say?”

“I said you are correct. I spoke with my sisters and begged for their apology. I agree with everything you said today in the conference room.”

Stunned, she just stared as the buttons kept opening. A washboard stomach. An intriguing dark line that disappeared beneath the buckle of his pants. Her mouth watered and her brain fogged. He untucked the shirt from his pants so it fell completely open.

“What—what the hell are you doing?” she squeaked.

“Taking you to bed.” The shirt hit the floor. His hands worked on the belt buckle, then slid it through the loops. Then he undid his zipper.

Her gaze roved greedily over the male perfection before her. He put his hands on his hips. “Come here, Maggie.”

Her heart pounded so hard her blood strangled, then pumped madly in an effort to keep up with her hormones. “Huh?”

“Hmm, I should have done this a while ago. Who would’ve thought you’d ever be speechless?” He snagged her hand and pulled her off the bed.

Dumbstruck by the sexual electricity from the touch of his skin on hers, she allowed herself to be led so she stood before him.

“Let me be clear,
la mia tigrotta
. I’m taking you to bed. I’m going to strip off your clothes, bury myself deep inside you, and make you come so many times the only word from your lips will be my name, begging me to do it all over again.” He sank his fingers into her hair and tugged. Then he loomed over her, his eyes hotly promising her every decadent, lustful pleasure she could take. “
Capisce
?”

“I, I don’t think, I—”

His mouth stamped over hers.

Her mind may have needed a moment to recover, but her body bloomed and opened under his command. She took every silky stroke of his tongue and demanded more as she dug her nails into his shoulders and hung on. In minutes, her clothes were stripped off.

The sensual taste and smell of him flooded her nostrils. Already, her body grew wet and fiery hot, aching for him to fill her. He growled low in his throat and fit himself quickly with a condom. This time he urged her onto her hands and knees, dragged her thighs apart, and plunged.

She cried out at the delicious sensation of tightness and bucked upward for more. The deep penetration left her nowhere to hide. Maggie panted as she tried to keep something back for herself, but as if he sensed her withdrawal, he reached under and rolled the tips of her nipples between his fingers, slowing his pace. Each deliberate, easy thrust pushed her closer to the edge but didn’t give her enough to fly over. She moaned and tried to speed him up.

His warm breath rushed over her ear. “Want something?”

She shivered. “I hate you.”

He laughed low. “I love you in this position. You have the most beautiful ass.”

He circled his hips and did something that should be illegal. “Michael, please.”

“Stay.”

She tried to process his words but her body ached and every inch throbbed. “What?”

He nibbled on her ear and caressed her breasts. “Stay with me to the end of the week,
mia amore
. Promise me.”

Closer and closer. The orgasm was just out of reach, and she craved him like before, wanted him to pound inside of her and claim her. “Yes. I’ll stay.”