The scene blurred before Maggie. Her heart sped up, and sweat pricked her skin. The breath lodged in her throat and refused to emerge. She tried her normal fighting tactics, but a part of her understood she was too late. She was crashing fast, and this may be one of her most embarrassing moments of all time.

Suddenly, Michael’s gaze sharpened on her face. As if he sensed her impending collapse, he made a quick excuse, then dragged her out of the room. Maggie shuddered as the waves of adrenaline surged through her and stole her sanity. They reached the bedroom, and Michael guided her to the bed, pushing her head down between her knees. The instinct to fight the fear of losing control made her reaction worse. She clenched her fists and gasped for air. She was about to scream in helplessness when Michael’s strong hands and voice shredded through the fog and commanded her attention.

“Listen to me, Maggie. Breathe. Slow and steady. You will be all right; I have you and I won’t let anything happen to you. Give up your control and let yourself go.” His hands rubbed her back in gentle motions, and his fingers interlaced with hers in a show of strength. She focused on his voice and clung to the solid weight of his words. She gave in to the feelings twisting inside of her and finally, her lungs clutched air. The clock ticked, and her heart slowed, allowing the breath to release back into her body. All the while, Michael kept talking to her, low nonsense that soothed her and brought her from the brink. Finally, she lifted her head.

He pressed his forehead against hers and cupped her cheeks. “Better, cara?” His fathomless onyx eyes drilled into hers with worry and a deeper emotion she didn’t recognize.

Maggie nodded. Emotion surged, a strange mixture of tenderness and need she never experienced. Too afraid to speak, she reveled in the stroke of his hand down her cheek and the warm rush of breath over her lips.

“Let me get you some water. Stay there and just relax. We will work this out.”

He left the room and came back and gave her tiny sips of cold, fresh water that trickled down her raw throat. A calmness settled over her. She was safe. Somehow, some way, she trusted him. First with her body.

Now her heart.

“I guess the thought of marrying me wasn’t very tasteful,” he said dryly.

She sputtered a laugh. “Didn’t mean to hit your ego, Count. Just something about legally marrying my fake husband in front of his family threw me for a second.”

He sighed and dragged his hands over his face. “This is very bad.”

“You think? I feel like your mother is the hitman from the movie The Marrying Man. Remember when the mobster made them get married because they had sex?” She moaned. “We never should have gone to bed together. Somehow, we’re being punished. We have to tell your mother the truth.”

She waited for his nod, but instead he shot her a strange look. “I do not know this movie, and my family is not Mafia.”

She rolled her eyes. “Well, duh! Why do I feel like you’re not on the same page as me?”

“What page?”

Lord, sometimes she forgot how many American expressions he didn’t understand. “Never mind. Why aren’t you horrified?”

“I am! I’m just thinking of all the angles. Look, cara, my mother is sick. The doctor said to avoid all stress and give her anything she asks for. If I tell her the truth now, she may end up having a heart attack.”

Maggie’s heart lurched at the thought of being responsible for Mama Conte. She nibbled at her lower lip. “Michael, what are you asking me?”

His gaze drilled into hers. Each word struck her like nails driven into her proverbial coffin. “I want you to marry me.” He paused. “For real.”

She jumped up from the bed. “What? We can’t do this. Are you crazy? We’ll be legally married. When we get back to the States, we’ll have to go through an annulment or divorce or something. Oh, my God, this is insane. How is this happening? I’m trapped in a frickin’ romance novel!”

“Calm down.” He crossed the room and snagged her hands. “Listen to me, Maggie. I will take care of everything. No one else has to know. We’ll say our vows, have a party, and leave for home. I’ll take care of all the paperwork and expenses. It will be discreet. I’m asking you to do this for my mother, for my family. I know I ask too much, but I’m asking anyway.”

The world tilted. Michael waited for her answer, his face calm as if he had asked her for a dinner date rather than a marriage vow. Pushing past all the screaming thoughts blurring in her mind, she reached deep for an answer.

His mother was sick. Yes, she’d made a bargain for a fake marriage, but telling the truth at this point could be a complete disaster. His sisters would feel betrayed and heartbroken. Venezia wouldn’t be able to marry, and who knows what type of drama could ensue? Would it be so bad to say some vows and make it legal? It was just a piece of paper. Nothing would change, and it wasn’t like anyone had to know. She had no one back home—no lover or family she cared about other than Nick and Alexa. Maybe the whole thing could work. If she married him now, she could hop on a plane tomorrow, hitch it back to New York, and pretend the whole thing never happened.

Yeah. She was in the land of denial.

He’d owe her big-time, and she’d be sure he stayed far away from Alexa from now on. One tiny sacrifice to make in the big scheme of things. They were just silly words from a book. A holy book, sure, but still man-made. Right? Meant nothing.

Mia amore.

The term rattled her to the core and she trembled. Who was she kidding? He asked her to stay. Acted as if he cared about her beyond the physical sex. If she agreed, in some crazy way she’d allow herself to fall completely for him and end up smashed. He was already getting so close to the truth of her past, and she swore no one would ever feel sorry for her. Vowed all those years ago no one would ever know.

There was one way, though, to make sure she never got hurt. “I’ll do it.”

He moved toward her but she shook her head. “On one condition, Count. Stop pushing me. We finish this ruse for the rest of the week and go our separate ways. No more sleeping together. No more pretending this is more than it is.”

His eyes delved into hers and swirled with an array of emotions. “This is what you ask from me?”

Silly tears threatened but she ruthlessly shoved them back and tilted her chin. Then lied. “Yes. This is what I want.”

“I am sorry you feel this way, cara,” he whispered. Regret and something more, something dangerous, shone in his face. “Va bene.”

Maggie yanked her hands from his, strode across the room, and threw open the door. “Carina, get up here and help me get that wedding gown on. And uncork the champagne.”

A loud whoop and clapping drifted up the stairs. Michael nodded, then walked past her without another word.

Her throat tightened as she prepared for the biggest show of her life and tried to pretend she didn’t feel so empty.

* * *

The sun exploded in burnt-orange radiance over the horizon. Maggie stood before the priest on the back terrace. In a few hours Michael’s sisters had transformed the yard into a simple elegance that took her breath away. Colorful roses burst from hanging baskets amid paper lanterns casting an intimate glow along the walkway. His mother sat propped up on cushions in her chair, an elegant handmaid quilt tossed over her lap. His sisters flaunted a variety of colorful dresses with tiny bouquets of white lilies as they walked before her, but it wasn’t until she gazed upon her soon-to-be-real husband that Maggie realized her life was about to change.

He was dressed in a dark tux that emphasized the wide breadth of his shoulders and chest, his hair tied back, and the carved features of his face softened as he stared at her with admiration. The sheer white dress skimmed over her figure, dipping low in the front and hugging the full length of her arms. A small train spread out behind her. Michael took her hand and placed a kiss in her palm. Tingles shot up her arm, and a tiny smile quirked his full lips as he sensed the connection. He kept her hand tucked in his arm as if afraid she’d flee. The priest faced them and began the ceremony. The words mingled and blurred in a rush, until she began to recite her vows.

For better or worse . . .

In sickness and in health . . .

To honor and respect . . .

Till death do us part . . .

Birds chirped in the trees. Dante threw a disgusted look at her as he perched beside her, licking his paw and waiting for the embarrassing scene to be over. The wind blew warm and soft, mocking her words and carrying them far over the hills. A deep silence settled over the courtyard as the Conte family waited.

“I do.”

The kiss was feather light, but when he lifted his head, she sucked in her breath at the satisfaction gleaming within onyx depths. She didn’t have time to think about it, because she was thrust into his arms and given champagne while the truth vibrated through every nerve ending in her body.

She loved him.

She was in love with Michael Conte. For real.

Venezia squealed with excitement and held Dominick’s hand. “I’m so happy! Now, we have another surprise for you. We’re sending you to our second home in Lake Como for a honeymoon night. You need some privacy without worrying about your family sleeping downstairs.” Her eyes sparkled, and she handed the keys to Michael. “Leave now and we won’t expect you back till tomorrow night.”

Michael frowned and glanced toward his mother. “I thought we rented it out for the season? And I don’t feel comfortable leaving her before I confirm she’s okay.”

Somehow, the woman’s sharp sense of hearing kicked in. She shot her son a look that should have withered him on the spot. “Oh, you will go, Michael and Margherita. The house is empty for the next month, so you might as well take advantage. The girls will take care of me and call immediately if anything changes. You will not rob me of the satisfaction of giving you a honeymoon night.”

Unbelievably, heat rushed to Maggie’s cheeks. She’d gone skinny-dipping, handled naked men on her job, and watched Alexa give birth to her niece without a hiccup of shyness. Now, the very idea of sleeping with her husband with his mother’s staunch approval caused her to blush. What the hell?

Venezia whispered something to Dominick and then tugged Maggie off to the side. Her eyes, so like her brother’s, shone with an inner light that took Maggie’s breath away. The woman interlaced their fingers and gently kissed her hand. “Thank you, Maggie.”

“For what?”

Her face grew serious. “For what you did. I know you probably dreamed of your own wedding with Michael in the future, and I also suspect Michael rushed this engagement for me. You’ve changed him. When he came to apologize to me, he admitted he never realized how he acted until you told him. I can only hope you know how much you mean to this family. You’ve given me a gift—the opportunity to marry Dominick this summer—and I’ll never forget it. I’m so glad you belong to us now.”

As Venezia hugged her, a part of Maggie’s soul broke off. The oozing pain of deceit and longing swallowed her whole, but she managed to fight it back with the long years of practice in being alone.

* * *

Within the hour, she found herself tucked neatly in Michael’s Alfa Romeo, racing down the narrow, twisting roads heading toward the lake. He’d changed into faded jeans and a casual black shirt. His hair blew loose around his face, occasionally masking his expression from her sight and adding that pirate sexiness that appealed to her baser side. Her tummy fluttered and her panties grew damp. She shifted in her seat and pulled her mind from the gutter.

“What are we going to do?” she asked bluntly. “Have you even thought this whole thing through? Are we going to tell Alexa and my brother? What if your family visits the States? What about Venezia’s wedding?”

He gave a deep sigh as if she worried about nonsensical items instead of a marriage. “Let’s not worry about that now, cara. I think we need a night alone to work out some things between us.” His pointed look held a smoldering undertone of lust. She fought a shiver. Damn him for controlling her with sex. She’d always been the one in charge, and that’s the way she liked it. Maybe it was time to turn the tables.