“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.”

He murmured in satisfaction, grasped her hips, and gave her everything. The climax came hard and fast, and she shook in the aftermath. He shouted her name and followed, and they sank onto the pillow, Michael holding her close as if he would never let her go.

* * *

Michael stroked her naked back as she stretched into the caress. A deep satisfaction coursed through every cell in his body and reminded him once again that Maggie Ryan finally belonged to him.

Her open, carnal response blew away any other encounter he’d ever had. The warning deep within shimmered inside the locked box, but he refused to spoil the moment by worrying. Somehow, they’d work things out. After the lure of the hunt with a beautiful woman ended in bed, Michael always experienced satisfaction. What blew his mind at the moment was the fierce sense of completion that flowed through his veins. As if he had finally met his other half.

Dios, he must be loco.

Leave it to him to pick a woman who’d make his life a mess. The inner voice whispered the truth in mocking format. She’d also bring a sense of joy and zest and challenge he craved, no matter how hard he fought to settle with an easier woman. It was as if his passion on the race circuit translated to the women he longed for. Wild, untamed, contradictory, and stubborn. He remembered the adrenaline rush of handling such power, riding it around the curves and keeping the vehicle barely under control. Maggie reminded him of the same thrill. She courted the full range of his emotions that were normally locked up and reserved in a civilized manner. His past had finally caught up with him.

And he was happy.

Suddenly, Maggie shot up out of bed. Hair messily falling over one eye, bare-breasted, she gazed in horror at the closed door. “Oh, my God, your mother! Carina! I was loud, I forgot they were in the house.”

He chuckled and pulled her back into his arms. “Before I came to your room, Mama said she needed to go into town for some sort of surprise. She took Carina with her, so I knew we’d have a few hours alone.”

She let out a relieved breath. “So you had this planned all along.” She gave him a mock glare. “I figured you’d come to yell at me for getting involved with your business.”

“I planned on yelling afterward.”

Her hand snaked out and gave his penis a squeeze. He laughed and pinned her to the mattress with his thigh. On cue, he grew hard and nudged insistently against her moist center. With a mischievous glint, her hand explored, caressing the tip and sliding up and down his shaft. The woman had dangerous hands and may eventually kill him. Still, he’d die a happy man.

“What were you saying?” she purred, alternating between teasing flicks and hard pumping motions.

Michael gritted his teeth.

“Don’t play games you can’t win, la mia tigrotta,” he growled. Then took her lips in a hard, deep kiss. Her musky essence rose to his nostrils as the sweet taste of her flooded his senses.

“I’ll win this round, Count,” she whispered back. Her tongue ran over his bottom lip and she bit down in a sharp nip. The tiny pain shot straight to his cock and his skin stretched to accommodate.

“I’d show you who’s boss right now but I don’t have another condom handy.”

She guided him one tempting inch.

He paused at her entrance. His head spun like a man with his first woman.

“I’m on the pill, and I’m safe.” Her eyes glittered with a mad need that called to him.

With one push, he sank inside her.

They lay side by side, faces close, and he reveled in the intimacy of watching every expression as he moved inside of her. Her breasts filled his hand, and the berry red of her nipples tempted him to take them in his mouth and suck hard. The scent of sandalwood overtook him, and she met each thrust with an open abandon that fired his blood. He kept the pace slow and easy, not wanting to rush the extreme pleasure of her body flowering open beside him. Her channel squeezed and she gasped as she neared the pinnacle. He clawed for control and tipped his hips to hit the sweet spot, then watched her fall apart.

He swallowed his name from her lips and let himself join her. Then he realized he had called her an endearment he’d never uttered before. A term he saved for the woman who would become his wife. One he’d never used before, even at the height of orgasm.