The Marriage Trap

Unfortunately, the tiny glimpse only made him crave more.



The vivid green of trees and brown earth flashed by and welcomed him in a way that soothed his soul. His family owned land from generations back, which had all been passed to him. But he’d always known from his first visit to New York City that he longed to make his mark there. Papa took him to visit his uncle, and the bustle of Manhattan fascinated his sense of challenge. Unfortunately, the crowds and chaos did not call to his need for privacy and land. When he decided to expand La Dolce Famiglia in the States, he sought the excitement of Manhattan in a location that offered a more laid-back atmosphere. As he traveled upstate, a hidden jewel revealed herself in the majestic mountains of the Hudson Valley, and he knew he’d found the place he could finally call home.



Though he was happy in New York, his birthplace always gave him a certain strength. A reminder of the man he was and where he came from. On his own land, there was no bullshit or pretending. In the spinning world of technology and money and competitive business, he needed to remind himself of the things that were important.



The walled city of Bergamo reminded him of a treasure surrounded by a fortress. Snugly situated at the foothills of the Alps and separated into upper and lower towns, the combination of Old and New World mingled into sheer perfection. He enjoyed the sleek feel of the sports car as he moved from the Città Bassa to the Città Alta and the bustling city fell away to a quiet, country hush. A sense of peace and satisfaction coursed through him as he neared home.



He caught the musky scent of sandalwood in the air and shifted in his seat. Everything about Maggie was a sexual contrast. The hunter in him longed to dive underneath her surface and find what made her tick.



Her stunned look when he confessed his secret punched through his chest. He’d never told of his empty search for a woman to complete him. After all, most men would laugh, and women may take up the challenge to storm the barriers of his heart. She’d gotten him so pissed, the words burst out of his mouth. But her obvious recognition revealed her own deepest longing.



He reached the top of the hill, pulled up to the sprawling terra-cotta villa, and cut the engine. “We shall have a minute before they come running out.”



“It’s beautiful, but not the billionaire mansion I expected.”



He took in the simple lines of his family home through her eyes and sighed. “Mama refuses to leave. I planned to build her a castle worthy of what she accomplished, but she laughed at me. Said she refused to leave her family land and the home where Papa lived.”



“I like her already.”



“She even refused help. No maids or cooks for Mama. I have a woman who sneaks in to do deep cleaning when she’s in church.” He shook his head. “Ah, well. Are you ready?”



Her face was impassive and cool. Yet those jade-green eyes mirrored a tiny flare of uncertainty. He caught her hand within his and entwined their fingers. Her small gasp sang in his ears and stretched his pants more than a notch. God, she was so responsive to his touch. The low hum between them beckoned, promising a deep physical satisfaction he ached to experience but never would. Her hot-pink nails dug into his palm, and his thumb pressed the sensitive pulse point at her wrist to confirm her response. Yes. He turned her on. She refused to buckle, though, and tossed her head with a devil-may-care attitude.



“Let’s rock and roll,” she said.



She climbed out of the car the same moment the door flung open and his sisters came running down the stone pathway.



In perfect unison, they flung themselves into his arms. Joy exploded through him as he hugged them back, their excited chatter a familiar noise to his ears. He pressed kisses to the tops of their heads and studied their appearances.



“You are all more beautiful than I remembered.” A dual vision of thick black hair, strong features, and dark eyes stood before him. Venezia’s generous curves had caused him to interrogate many of her dates regarding their intentions, and Julietta’s independent streak gave him sleepless nights. These two sisters were bullheaded and full of sass, but they always bowed to his final orders as the family rules dictated. Carina at twenty-three was a late bloomer. He recognized instantly the awkward stooped posture as she tried to hide her height and curves under baggy clothes. Regret coursed through him at not being able to keep an eye on her at this tender age.



She giggled at his statement, but the older two only rolled their eyes.



“Is this how you wooed your bride?” Venezia demanded. “Corny compliments and sweet smiles in an effort to placate us? Though you don’t come to visit for months, and then spring a new wife on Mama without any buildup.”



Carina glanced back and forth between her sisters and Maggie, chewing on her lip with sudden unease.



“Watch your temper, Venezia,” he commanded. “Perhaps my wife understands better than you that I do what is best for the family.”



Maggie stalked away from the car, her hips swinging in the ancient rhythm of Eve. Her sleek hair swung past her shoulders, and she stopped beside him as if in full support. “I’m Maggie, by the way, your brother’s new wife. And no, he didn’t woo me with compliments. He did it the old-fashioned way.” She paused for dramatic effect and twisted those full lips in a mocking smile. “With great sex.”



The chirp of birds was the only sound that broke the deafening silence. Michael half closed his eyes in sheer horror. He was going to kill her. His older sisters stared at her with open mouths. Carina gasped.



Why did he think he’d be able to control her?



Venezia choked on a laugh. Julietta looked at her with a touch of admiration, and now Carina seemed as if she had met her new heroine.



Well versed in damage control, his mind spun with an appropriate response to make it all go away.



“Nothing wrong with sex to enslave a man.” A familiar voice echoed from the doorway, and a slight figure made her way down the path. “It’s what you do with him afterward that counts. At least you married him and made him honest.”



“Mama?”



Everyone swung around to watch the progression of the short woman with the carved wooden cane. With each step, the cane banged with an authoritative air that sent shivers down his spine. Her long, gray hair was held back in its usual bun, and her olive skin was heavily wrinkled from the sun and old-fashioned laugh lines. She bore four children who all towered over her and boasted their father’s genes, but the whiplash of her voice terrified anyone who got in her way or disappointed her. She wore comfortable slacks, sandals, and a simple white blouse with a cardigan wrapped around her shoulders.



She stopped in front of them. Her lips quirked, but her face showed no humor as she studied Maggie with sharp eyes. Long moments passed as they waited for her response.



Finally, Maggie broke the silence. “Signora Conte, I am honored to finally meet you.” Her tone held the highest respect as she met his mother’s gaze head-on. “Your son is an idiot for not telling you about our engagement sooner. I apologize for him.”



His mother nodded. “I accept your apology. Welcome to my family.” His mother kissed Maggie on each cheek, then frowned. “You are too thin. Always too thin these young girls. We shall fix that immediately.” Her head came around sharply. “Girls? Did you not greet your new sister?”



The tension dissolved as his sisters hugged and kissed Maggie. The breath he’d held whooshed out of his mouth and he hugged his mother. The delicacy of her frame contradicted her steely stare. “Hello, Mama.”



“Michael. I am angry with you but will make you pay later.”



He chuckled and ran a finger down her wrinkled cheek. “Mi dispiace. I promise to make it up to you.”



“Si. Come inside and get settled.”



His senses swam with the familiar sights and scents of his home. He took in the sloping terra-cotta roof, wrought-iron balconies, and the elaborate stone pillars flanking the front door. Bright yellow and red surfaces competed with masses of wildflowers in vivid colors. Set atop the peak of a hill, the three-tier home sprawled like a queen over her subjects, boasting more than five acres of grassy fields. The carved-stone pathways led to a private terrace and pool area surrounded by lush gardens and walkways. The Alps shimmered in the distance, their massive white-peaked tips visible from the balcony.



While his sisters buzzed over Maggie’s ring, he made his way through the doors and was assaulted with the smell of garlic, lemon, and basil. Ceramic tile gleamed clean and bright and set off the pine cabinets and heavy table. Massive counters surrounded the space that was covered with fresh herbs, tomatoes, and an array of pots and pans. This was his mother’s domain and heaven on earth when they were first introduced to the sweet lure of pastries and luscious fillings. She’d passed her talent down to each of her children, but none had her expert skill, and they relied mostly on the famous chefs chosen to run their bakery empire. Funny, they all seemed to favor their father’s genes for business, but Mama had never forced them to be someone they weren’t.



The memory of his own dreams teased the fringes of his memory, but he refused to linger on regrets. Not then. Not now.



Not ever.



He glanced over at Maggie. She chatted with his sisters and seemed smugly at ease after her shocking entrance. Obviously, she assumed he’d meekly accept her outrageous actions in gratitude for her agreement to the whole farce.



“Maggie, I need to speak with you for a moment.”



As if she sensed his irritation, she shot him a look and hiked up her brow. He smothered a chuckle.



“Bring your luggage up to your room,” his mama ordered. “I’ve gotten it ready for you. After you settle, we shall meet in the garden for some coffee and snacks.”



“Si.”



He retrieved the luggage from the car, walked back in the house, and motioned for Maggie to follow. She broke away from his sisters and they ascended the stairs toward their bedroom. He dropped the luggage, kicked the door closed with his heel, and faced her.



“A very amusing opening to our week, la mia tigrotta. But I think it’s time you realize who makes the rules here.” He took a step closer and towered over her. “Now.”



Chapter Four



More than six feet of irritated man loomed before her. Though he didn’t touch her, her body stilled as if restrained. His usual relaxed charm disappeared and a dangerous aura crackled in the air. She’d seriously pissed him off. Unfortunately, instead of fear, excitement tingled along her nerve endings. Damn, what would he be like in bed? Naked and muscled and . . . demanding.



Usually, she stayed far away from men who had any dominance or control tendencies, but Michael didn’t scare her. At least, not in a bad way. Her lips parted in an unconscious invitation for him to take it a step further. Onyx eyes sharpened on her mouth and darkened. She ached to know how he tasted. Craved to experience his tongue claiming her mouth, his hips slamming against hers, without forcing her to make the choice.



A beat passed. Another.



The words slipped out of her mouth before she caught them. “What’s the matter, Count? Cat got your tongue?”