Dr. Restevo shook his head and edged past him. “Keep her in bed today. Plenty of liquids. This happens sometimes, no need to worry.” The older man paused and suddenly clasped Michael’s shoulder in a death grip. “Remember one thing, Michael. No stress. Whatever your mother asks for, just give it to her. Capisce?”
“But—”
The doctor dropped his hand, gave Carina a quick kiss on the cheek, and studied Maggie. Eyes narrowed, he drank in her figure, as if studying for a quiz, then patted her cheek. “Congratulations on your marriage, signora bella. Welcome to the family.” Then with a little smile, he hurried out the door and left them.
“Oh, thank goodness. It was probably just the long walk and the heat,” Carina said. “I’ll go get her some water and juice.” His sister left and his knees weakened with a rush of relief. Without a word, Maggie stepped into his arms and held him close.
A deep sense of peace settled within his soul. He breathed in the sweet smell of her strawberry shampoo and allowed himself the luxury of leaning on another person. He was so used to shouldering the burden on his own, the sheer pleasure of having someone comfort him shook him to the core. Was this how it would be if Maggie was in his life permanently? She was strong enough to hold up her own end, and he’d never have to worry about keeping things from her. She’d be a true partner in every sense of the word. Michael held her until his breathing returned to normal, then gently released her.
His voice sounded ragged. “Thank you.”
She quirked a brow. “For what, Count? Not being a pain in your ass for a minute or two?”
Her cheekiness made him laugh. He reached out and rubbed a thumb over that luscious lower lip. “For being there.” She retreated behind her wall of defense, but now he knew the move well and developed the proper block. This time, he decided to give her space. “I’m going to check on her. Be right back.”
He walked into the bedroom and sat beside the bed. The familiar scent and sight of his mother’s room wrapped around him, reminding him of his youth. The same king-size bed with the heavily carved cherrywood headboard. The cheerful yellow on the walls and the spill of vivid green plants and bright red geraniums in her window box. The room led to a private balcony, and he remembered many nights cuddling on his mother’s lap while she rocked in her chair and counted the stars. Now, the powerhouse of a woman lay against the plump pillows with her eyes half-closed.
He took her hand and brought it to his lips. “Mama. How do you feel?”
She gave a small smile. “Silly weak heart. Quite annoying. Your papa and I used to hike in our spare time and climb mountains. Don’t get old.”
He smiled back at her usual phrase. “Carina’s bringing you liquids and I want you to stay in bed. No baking. No stress. Doctor’s orders.”
She let out a humph. “Baking relaxes me. But I will stay in bed, Michael.” Her eyes sparkled with a bit of humor. “At least today.”
“Mama—”
A quick knock on the door made him turn. Carina stood behind a tall man dressed in the standard black with a stiff white collar and a cross around his neck. His face was heavily wrinkled, but his vivid blue eyes held a glint that lit up the room. A leather Bible was clutched in his hand as he moved forward and held his arms out.
“Father Richard!” Michael rose and hugged the man.
The priest had given his family religious education lessons for many years and was grief stricken when Michael decided not to be a priest. He had an idea Father Richard dreamed of leaving him his legacy, but with the first discovery of the nak*d female form, Michael was a goner.
“What are you doing here?” Michael stiffened in sudden alarm. “Wait—Dios, you’re not here thinking she needs last rites, are you?”
Father Richard’s booming laugh rang out through the room. He pressed a kiss to his mother’s forehead. “Of course not, Michael. Your mama will outlive all of us if my instincts are right. Didn’t she tell you?”
Michael glanced back and forth between his mother and the priest. “No, I’m sorry, Father. Is this about Venezia’s wedding? She’s not here at the moment but should be home later this afternoon.”
“Wait! Let me get Maggie; she needs to hear this.” Carina dragged Maggie into the room and made the introductions.
Maggie furrowed her brow in confusion as she murmured a greeting to the priest.
Carina jumped up and down in bubbling excitement. “Mama, can I tell them? Please?”
His mother nodded.
“Mama and I went into town to get Father Richard. We have a big surprise for you.”
A sense of doom beat through Michael, as if he were watching a horror movie and the deafening music was swarming to a crescendo during the final murder. “What surprise?”
Carina paused for dramatic effect. “Father Richard can marry you in Italy! Right now! Venezia and Julietta will be here any moment. Michael, we got approval for you to marry Maggie. We’re having a wedding!”
The words slammed into his brain like a mean left hook. Maggie stood in perfect stillness, those cat-green eyes wide with a mixture of horror and shock.
Porca vacca. He was screwed.
Chapter Eleven
Maggie stared at the priest like he’d arrived to perform an exorcism. The room fell quiet, and Carina seemed anxious over their complete nonexcitement. In fact, at another time and place in her life, this may be hilarious. Almost like one of the comic sitcoms she loved where stupid situations happened in the comfort of her living room.
No way. She was not going to marry Michael Conte.
A crazed laugh bubbled from her lips. Enough was enough. She waited for Michael to explain the truth. He’d never go through with it. Hell, she was his own worst nightmare come to life, even though they had great sex and he’d said some sweet things. In the cold light of morning, he’d lose interest and move on for his search for a proper wife. One who was better suited to him and his family. Someone like Alexa.
Carina finally spoke. “Um, guys? Aren’t you excited? We’re going to have a wedding.”
Since her fake husband seemed dumbstruck—with the emphasis on dumb—she decided to be the rational one. Maggie took a deep breath. “Listen, everyone. We have something important to tell you. You see, Michael and I—”
“Wait!” Michael’s roar choked off her words. Her eyes practically bugged out of her skull as he calmly walked over, took her hand, and faced his family. “What Maggie means to say is, we never expected to have the ceremony take place so soon. Maggie had her heart set on inviting our cousins and uncles to the celebration.” His laugh came out hollow and fake. “How did the approval go so fast? I mean, Father Richard, I figured you’d want Maggie and me to go through some classes first before blessing our union.”
Father Richard, in his godlike presence, sensed no evil lies in the vicinity and smiled warmly. “Well, of course, that is the standard, Michael. You know the church takes a while to approve a marriage, but you have been under my care since you were young. As soon as your mother knew you were flying back home, she contacted me and we pushed the paperwork through. You are a count, and royalty does have some assets.”
Mama Conte struggled to sit up. She sipped at the water and handed the glass back to Father Richard. When she spoke, her voice was threaded with weakness. Odd, because even when she was tired, his mother snapped out her words with a strength in complete contradiction to the frail vision before him. God, maybe she was really, really sick. “I understand, my son. And I do not wish to take away your wishes, but I’m afraid I will not be up for a big party. I feel so weak. The doctor will be back tomorrow, and he said if I am still this way, he may choose to take me to the hospital for tests.”
Her brown eyes held a glint of determination. “I ask you two to do this for me. Recite your vows on the back terrace so I can be certain your union is complete.”
Carina seemed relieved at their concerns and went back to nonstop chatter. “See, there’s nothing to worry about. I know we’d rather do a big party, but if you’re flying back next week, Mama decided it’s more important to have the religious ceremony immediately.” She clapped her hands together. “Maggie, I got a dress for you! I hope you like it; I snuck in your closet and got your size, and I have it in my room. Let’s get you dressed! The girls should be here any moment. Michael, you should wear that gorgeous tux you left here from the last time. La Dolce Famiglia delivered a chocolate cannoli cream cake, and I have a few bottles of champagne chilling. This is going to be so much fun!”
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.”