“Rise and shine, Hubby.”

Beck Anderson rubbed his eyes. The melodious female voice seemed to come from close to him, but as he turned around in the bed, he couldn’t recognize it. His throat felt dry, and migraine hammered his temples, trying to crawl out from the inside of his skull. When was the last time he’d had a hangover?

Hangover. He swallowed, tasting sourness in his mouth.

Beck cleared his throat, and opened his eyes.

A red-haired beauty sat at his side of the bed with a smile on her face.

Clarissa Garubo. A hot sensation moved through him, a throbbing much different than the one from the migraine. He willed it away, remembering the weight of her surname. Entertaining fantasies involving Clarissa would not only keep him from his reaching his goal, but also possibly cut some of his body parts if her father ever found out.

His heart thrummed in his chest. Flashes from the previous night danced in his mind, the images too blurry. Abruptly, he sat on the bed against the frame and assessed his surroundings.

Gold accented furniture and extravagant interior design surrounded him. Vegas. The trip he’d made all the way from New York in a fucking car because he’d wanted to nail the Garubo account. Yet, as he faced Garubo’s daughter, looking lovely in a fluffy robe, he hoped the account was the only thing he nailed.

She chewed on her lower lip, her big hazel eyes studying him. “I decided to let you sleep for a few more hours. You really looked exhausted,” she said, and didn’t move away from him.

Beck glanced down his sheet. Shit. He was naked. “Clarissa…” he started, then let out a breath. “You and I…” He cleared his throat.

“What? You don’t remember?” She frowned. “We got married last night.”

“Married?” he repeated slowly, as if he pronounced a foreign word. The vague recollection of them laughing while waiting in front of a chapel stabbed at him. He swallowed again. Hard.

“You don’t remember anything?” she leaned closer. “I told you I was virgin, and you said we should do it the right away and get married before having sex.”

Beck rubbed his forehead. “And did we?”

“Get married?”

“Have sex,” he said.

She shook her head. “At the end of the night, we were exhausted and just tumbled into bed.”

A wave of relief washed through him. He let out a sigh. “There’s a way out of this. We got married. We were both drunk. We can ask for an annulment.”

She shrugged. “Hhhmmm… I guess,” she said, a pang of what sounded like disappointment in her voice.

“You guess? I’m a lawyer. Of course we can get an annulment. Our marriage hasn’t been consummated.”

She angled closer, and he caught a whiff of her delicious smell, a blend of wild flowers and warm vanilla. “You wanted to.”

No shit. During their three day drive, he’d done his best to keep from touching her. A few unintended brushes had sent electrifying thrills through him. Clarissa had an infectious laugher, huge hazel eyes that socked the air from any man’s lungs. From his lungs. But he knew better than to mess with a mobster’s daughter. “I’m sorry.”

“You said some pretty dirty things to me in the elevator.”

His cock jutted out. Cold sweat slicked his forehead. I’ll never drink so much again. Snippets of him whispering into her ear flashed in his mind, but he willed them away. His DNA obviously didn’t help, so he had to make a conscious effort to walk the line and stay as far from the image of his womanizer, cold-hearted father as possible. “Nevertheless…”

She tilted her head in the direction of his cock. “It seems like you feel dirty now, too. Are you sure you don’t want to have a one day honeymoon?”

One day honeymoon. Sweat slicked his forehead. Holy shit. “We can’t.” What part of annulment didn’t she understand?

“Why not?” She ran her hand down his chest. “We’re married. I won’t tell anyone if you don’t… we can still ask for an annulment afterwards. This is just for fun. We got married so you could screw me. Why not take advantage of it?”

Her touch warmed his skin. He curled his fists, desperate to find within him the strength to push her away. After all, why deprive himself from a little fun? He’d have to do the paperwork to get their wicked marriage annulled… why not make it worthwhile?

“Let me at least give you a parting gift,” she said, and pulled the sheet off of him.

Damnit. His cock pulsed, and she slid it into her mouth. “Clarissa…”

She licked the underside, causing his veins to throb for more. And she’d said she was a virgin? For someone without experience between the sheets, she sure knew how to burn them. “What? You want me to stop?” she asked, feigning innocence.

“No.” he hissed out. “Don’t you dare stop. And take off your robe while you suck me.”

Clarissa smiled, then she tried to fit that huge, gorgeous cock in her mouth. She’d made the phone call to her father’s assistant quickly before she woke Beck. Francesco should be here soon—and she hoped he wouldn’t catch her sucking a man. Though it would make her case a lot easier.

If she wanted to make this marriage semi-permanent, she needed for the information to leak. And what better way than have her father’s eyes and ears walk in on them?

Beck groaned.

She squeezed his tight, full balls. God. Beck’ll hate me if he finds out. She’d never deceived anyone in her entire life, and had to watch her share of movies with femme fatale leads to pull this off. Unfortunately, she had no other choice.

If she were married, her father would consider her worthy of being involved in the family business. For an uber old-fashioned man like Antonio Garubo, a married woman was more respectable. And she wouldn’t be married to just anyone—her husband would deal with his account. Represent his interests.

For the past ten years, ever since her mother’s fatal heart attack, Garubo had sent Clarissa to live with her aunt in upstate New York. Aunt Aurora had been a bitter lady who spent too much time at church and almost no time enjoying life. When she’d decided to move into assisted living, she contacted Clarissa’s father.

Clarissa could have stayed in New York, maybe moved to the city, and started out on her own. However, if she cut her father from her life completely, she’d never have access to the business that was rightly hers. She didn’t want just to cash fat checks—she wanted an input in her mother’s legacy, her cherished jewelry business, and help keep it.

“Clarissa…” he said, bringing her back to reality.

She slid her tongue up and down his smooth skin, reveling in the way he grew bigger under her caress. Beck… what a specimen. Sleeping next to him wouldn’t be such a sacrifice. The man’s muscular body and flawless olive skin was an invitation for naughtiness. She had no clue if actually having sex would be as easy as oral sex, but hey, she’d give it a go.

“God. You’re so hot. Take off your robe, beautiful,” he said.

His words shot a hot throb in her core. She moaned, and wished she had more time to revel in the most intimacy she’d ever shared with a man. Too bad it’d be so quick. She doubted he’d ever want anything to do with her after he found out the truth.

She squeezed his balls, just like she’d seen in a movie.

A loud bang startled her, and she jumped from the bed, completely disengaging from him.

“What is this?” she heard her father’s powerful voice.

Clarissa turned to find Francesco gesticulating frantically behind her father. Papa had never looked angrier or more intimidating—his six-foot height seemed to duplicate, his stocky frame occupying her field of vision. His nostrils flared, and fury flickered in his matte black eyes. “Papa,” she said, gasping.

“You,” he said, walking up to Beck. “I trusted you to bring my daughter home, safe and sound. I thought you’d keep your word because you wanted partnership. Or do you think I’m an idiot and don’t know your agenda? He fumed, and launched onto the bed. Francesco followed suit, shouting in Italian for him to stop.

“Papa, stop,” she screamed.

Beck could physically take her father down, but he was naked, besides, he probably didn’t want to die. Swiftly, Beck slid out of the bed before her father reached to him, and wrapped the sheet around his waist. “Mr. Garubo, let’s talk.”

“Talk? You’re finished. If you think you can make partner, you’re wrong. I’ll make sure you can’t represent an old hooker in court.”

“Mr. Garubo, there’s no need for threats. I can explain everything,” he said.

“Explain? How you convinced my sweet, innocent daughter to do all this… filth with you? You’re lucky she’s not a minor, you bastard. Otherwise I’d kill you.”

“Mr. Garubo, you need to back off,” Beck said, no, demanded. She didn’t detect any trace of fear in his voice, which was worrisome. Did Beck know he could take down her father, but not his bodyguards probably waiting outside?

“Back off?” her father snarled, and as if reading his cue, two of his bodyguards, two threatening and burly men, entered the room.

She knotted the belt around her waist tighter. Shit. Maybe her plan would end up in blood.

“This is what you get for taking advantage of my daughter,” Antonio said, and with a swirl of his fingers, one man threw a punch on Beck. Beck quickly reacted, and clocked the guy, but the other muscle head hit his stomach. He didn’t have a chance.

Her heart raced. “Stop,” she shouted, and before they could stop her, ran to Beck’s side. “He’s my husband,” she said, her breath coming in small gasps. “We got married last night.”