Jennifer Probst - The Marriage Trap

“She told Dominick I can wear the ring, but there will be no wedding until you marry. Then Dominick got upset and said he doesn’t know how long he can wait before he starts his life with me, and Mama got mad and called him disrespectful, and we had a big fight and now my life is over, all over! How can she do this to me?”

Gasping sobs broke out over the receiver.

Michael closed his eyes. The dull throb in his temples grew to monstrous proportions.

He slashed through Venezia’s wails with an impatience he didn’t try to hide. “Calm down,” he ordered. She immediately quieted, used to his authority in the household. “Everyone knows you and Dominick are meant to be together. I don’t want you to worry. I will talk to Mama today.”

His sister gulped. “What if you can’t? What if she disowns me if I marry Dominick without her approval? I’ll lose everything. But how can I give up the man I love?”

His heart stopped, then sped up. For God’s sake, that was a snake pit he refused to jump in. An intense family drama would force him to fly back home, and with his mother’s heart problems, he worried about her health. His two other sisters, Julietta and Carina, may not be able to handle Venezia’s distress on their own. First, he needed to get his sister under control. He clenched his fingers around the phone. “You will not do anything until I speak with her. Do you understand, Venezia? I will take care of it. Just tell Dominick to hold on until I get this settled.”

“Okay.” Her voice shook, and Michael knew that within his sister’s normal flair for drama she loved her fiancé and wanted to start her life with him. At twenty-six, she was already older than most of her friends who’d married, and she was finally going to settle down with a man he approved of.

He quickly ended the call and strode to his car. He’d get back to the office and think this through. What if he really needed to get married to fix this mess? His palms grew damp at the thought and he fought the instinct to wipe them down on his perfectly pressed slacks. With work eating up every spare hour, he’d put finding his soul mate at the bottom of his list. Of course, he already knew what qualities he needed in his future wife. Someone easygoing, sweet tempered, and fun. Intelligent. Loyal. Someone who wanted to raise children, make a home, but independent enough to have her own career. Someone to fit perfectly into his family.

He slid into the Alfa Romeo’s sleek interior and pressed the button for the engine. The main issue flashed in vivid neon before his vision. What if he didn’t have time to find his perfect wife? Could he find a woman for a practical arrangement to satisfy his mother and allow Venezia to marry the love of her life? And if so, where in Dante’s Hell would he find her?

His phone beeped and interrupted his thoughts. One glance confirmed Dominick refused to wait to be soothed and was about to fight for his sister’s hand in marriage.

His head pounded as he reached for the phone.

It was going to be a long day.

“Here, take the baby.”

Maggie automatically caught the infant as her brother pushed the wriggling handful into her arms and hurried off. Typical. She’d seen his savvy game of pass the baby before and refused to be the chump. Usually it was because her niece had—

“Oh, gross!”

The heavy odor of poop assaulted her nostrils. Her niece grinned proudly as pools of saliva dripped down her chin and trickled onto Maggie’s silk slacks. Lily’s diaper sagged with God-knows-what mess, and her three strands of hair stuck straight up like Alfalfa gone horribly wrong.

“Sorry, Lily, Aunt Maggie doesn’t do diapers. When you get older I’ll teach you how to ride a motorcycle, score a hot guy for the prom, and buy your first fake ID. Till then, I’m out.”

Lily crammed her fist in her toothless mouth and gnawed in delight.

Maggie held back a laugh. She glanced quickly around to see if a relative hung by so she could do a quick swap, but most of the party guests were crowded in the kitchen and dining room near the buffet. With a sigh, she rose from the couch, swung Lily on her hip, and almost crashed into the one man who irritated her the most.

Michael Conte.

He grabbed her with firm hands before she even swayed. The heat of the contact sizzled like oil on a hot skillet, but she kept her face expressionless, determined that he never know how he affected her. He’d practically stolen her BFF, insinuating himself into Alexa’s family with an easy charm that pissed her off. Since her brother designed the project at the waterfront, Michael was now invited to functions where business and pleasure combined into family events. She bumped into him everywhere, bringing back memories of that disastrous blind date and a prickle of humiliation.

“Are you okay, cara ?”

The caressing tone of his voice stroked her belly like a velvet fist. Lily broke into a gummy smile and practically sighed. And who wouldn’t? Michael was simply gorgeous.

She took apart his appearance with a ruthlessness that made her one of the most sought-after photographers in the fashion industry. Long, jet-black hair pulled back from his face and tied at his nape. His face was an odd combination of grace and strength, with a high arched brow, slashed cheekbones, and a strong chin. His nose sloped with a slight crookedness that enhanced his charm. His skin was a warm olive that bespoke of his Italian heritage.

But what killed her were his eyes.

Dark and soulful, almond-shaped, and set off by a set of lush eyelashes. Always filled with a wicked sense of humor and a raw passion that glimmered right beneath his polished surface.

Crankiness stirred. Why did he bother her? Her work required her to handle half-naked men who were even better looking. Like chiseled marble statues, she rarely got zinged by an electrical current when moving naked limbs into a pose. She had dated a few models, and always retained an air of distance, enjoying their company, then moving on without a glance back. But Michael affected her by igniting a basic feminine need she’d never encountered before.

She pushed away the disturbing thought and bumped Lily higher on her hip. She made sure to keep her tone cool. “Hello, Count. What brings you?”

His lower lip twitched. “I’d never miss Alexa’s birthday party.”

“No, of course not. You don’t seem to miss many events that revolve around Alexa, do you?”

His eyebrow lifted. “Are you questioning my motives, cara ?”

Maggie hated his husky accent that curled like smoke and wrapped heated wisps around her senses. But she hated his body more. Solid muscles filled out his supple leather Armani jacket. He wore a royal-blue button-down shirt, jeans, and Paciotti crocodile black boots. Besides killer style, he exuded a masculine power that pressed down upon her, combined with a deadly charm. He pretended not to have a care in the world, but Maggie glimpsed the sharp intelligence hidden behind that facade, glinting in the depth of inky black eyes.

After all, she hid the same things.

Maggie threw him the same charming smile she’d perfected in her own way. “Of course not. Just making a comment on the close personal relationship you seem to have with my brother’s wife.”

Michael chuckled and tickled Lily under the chin. The baby actually laughed. Even her niece was a traitor when it came to him. “Ah, but Alexa and I are friends, no? And without your brother, my bakery would never have gotten off the ground. He’s done an amazing job with the architectural design.”

She grunted. “Convenient, isn’t it?”

As if knowing he irritated her, he leaned forward. She caught the scent of rich coffee, clean soap, and a hint of Christian Dior cologne. Her gaze helplessly focused on those full, sculpted lips that promised sex and sin. “Do you have something to say to me, Maggie?” he asked in a low drawl. “I remember from our dinner date you are usually more . . . blunt.”