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.
“Sorry, silly female that I am. Why worry about such things as vows to God and divorce? Let’s have some fun. Oh, I know a great subject to talk about. Your mother told me you used to race cars.”
His hands clenched on the steering wheel. Bull’s-eye. Guilt pricked her conscience as he seemed to struggle with his words. “She told you, huh? We never talk about that anymore,” he murmured. “I raced when I was young. My papa got sick, and it was time to head the family business, so I gave it up. End of story.”
He seemed calm, but the sudden distance in his demeanor told her emotions simmered beneath the surface. She softened her voice. “You were good. You could’ve gone pro.”
“Probably. We’ll never know.”
The wind whipped her hair and the scenery whizzed by. “Do you resent having to give it up?” she asked curiously. “You never wanted to run La Dolce Famiglia, did you, Michael?”