The Marriage Mistake

Chapter Thirteen

She’d slept with Max.

Again.

Carina drove home from her shift at BookCrazy, tapping her fingers absently on the steering wheel while she tried to make sense of the situation. She resented his false, half-assed proposal under pressure from her mother. But the arousal in his eyes caused her brain to ooze from her head until there was nothing left but surrender. His body never lied. Why shouldn’t she enjoy that aspect of their relationship? They were married, for God’s sake.

The inner whisper screamed the truth.

Because she was still in love with him.

Always had been. Always would be. Like a cross heavy on her back, she never got over her feelings for Max. Bringing in sex complicated things. She’d be less able to keep her barriers up and be the strong, controlled woman she so desperately needed to be.

Curiously, in all other aspects of her life she felt . . . different. Stronger. Leaving La Dolce Maggie had been difficult. She bet Michael still believed he could encourage her to return, and Julietta placed an urgent call trying to change her mind. The conversations only confirmed she’d made the right decision. Her painting grew by leaps and bounds, and her class finally confirmed she needed to break through her barriers and paint what her soul screamed for. The erotic photos on Sawyer’s wall had called out to her, and the images being coaxed from her brush made her squirm with both embarrassment and pride. Who would’ve thought she’d been a woman to burn for a dominant lover, and an artist who loved erotica?

Even her job at the bookstore soothed something within her. She finally found a perfect blend of business and creativity by working around books, and enjoyed using her accounting skills to help Alexa.

If only her marriage hadn’t started under false pretenses, everything would’ve been perfect.

Was she crazy to stay? Why didn’t she just pack her bags and move out? The slow torture of being around him and not getting what she needed was brutal. The hell with it. She was leaving. Moving on. She’d play lots of angry-woman music and go a bit nutty and clear her past with one huge leap into the beyond.

Liar.

The inner voice cackled with merriment. She wasn’t ready yet. A tiny glimmer of hope kept her rooted to the house and his life. Wasn’t that what she heard kept torture victims alive for years? The hope of escape and rescue. Yeah, her own beaten soul wasn’t ready to give up the dream of the man she loved. The thought of never seeing his beloved face again made the action impossible.

At least, for now.

Carina sighed and pulled up to the house. She parked the car in the circular drive and made her way down the paved walkway. Lush rosebushes and spiky pine trees created a mystical landscape around Max’s mansion. Mini water fountains lined the path toward the gardens, and the sound of water trickling soothed her nerves. She loved to drag her canvas out by the pool and paint. Mentally juggling her schedule, she calculated she may have time for an hour of sketching before going to the store for her second shift.

She yanked her keys from her purse.

The dove dropped in front of her.

Carina jerked back in horror as the snowy white bird fell from the sky and crashed on the sidewalk. His leg twisted and he lifted his tiny head, then slid back to the pavement and remained still.

“Oh, my God.” Dropping her stuff, she knelt on the ground. Definitely breathing. Still alive. The tag on his foot held a number and with trembling fingers, she began to carefully examine him. The wing lay at a crooked angle, broken. Legs and feet seemed solid. She couldn’t seem to find any blood on the ground, but its eyes were closed.

She gently picked the bird up, cradled him in her arms, and brought him inside. Immediately, she found an old soft towel and placed him in the middle. Blinking back tears, she called the vet, then did a quick search on the Internet for confirmation and instructions.

Carina grabbed the phone and dialed.

“Max, I need you to come home. I need help.”

“I’m on my way.”

She clicked the button and waited.

“What do you think?”

Carina gazed at the bird now placed in a large fish tank, his wing securely wrapped in tape. His eyes were open but a bit glazed, as if still not sure what had happened. Max examined the number on the tag and wrote it down on a piece of paper. “I think we’re doing everything possible. The vet said there seem to be no internal injuries, so the wing should heal and we can send him back. I’m going to do a search for the number and see if I can contact the owner.”

She wrung her hands and watched the dove breathe. Max pulled her in his arms and she leaned into his chest, breathing in his familiar scent. “It’s going to be okay. You’re not called the animal whisperer for nothing. If he has a shot, it’s because of you.”

She smiled at the familiar title her family crowned her with for her talent and connection with animals. For one moment, she relaxed into his heat and protection. “I’m sorry I made you leave work.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head.”I’m glad you called me,” he murmured.

Comfort twisted into heat. His erection pressed against her thigh. Carina stiffened and the air grew thick with sexual tension. God, she wanted him. Wanted to strip off his sexy red tie and pin-striped suit, climb on his lap, and ride him until she forgot. Forgot he never wanted to marry her and didn’t love her the way she needed him to. The memory of him sucking chocolate off her nipples and between her thighs burned behind her lids. The way he held her with tenderness throughout the night, as if he sensed she needed something more. She sucked in a breath and pushed him away.

“No.”

He clenched his fists and looked away. His muscles stiffened and she waited him out. “I’m sorry. I can wait until you’re ready. I just—miss you.”

Her heart stuttered. Damn him. She shook with temper. “Bullshit. You miss being in charge of this whole relationship. You miss me panting after you like a dog in heat, with you calling all the shots. Don’t patronize me and pretend it was more than that.”

His brows slammed together. “I refuse to let you talk about yourself like that,” he stated coldly. “You have every right to be pissed off, but don’t demean both of us. Things have changed.”

Carina shook her head in disbelief. “Nothing’s changed. The only thing different between us is the sex. The rest is just a big fat lie.”

He stiffened. A shadow fell over his face. “We’re married now. Can’t we move forward? It’s not as if we’re strangers and have nothing between us.”

The last fragile thread of her temper broke. “Where the fuck is my happily-ever-after, Max? I dreamed of a real proposal, with a man on bent knee and vows he actually meant. You know what I got? Good intentions, responsibility, and a few orgasms.” She practically spit out her next words. “You want sex that bad? What is my mother blackmailing you with now? Or do you just want to have sex with me to get me knocked up and secure you an heir?”

Furious blue eyes met and shredded her with a ruthlessness that made her shudder. “I’ll forgive you for that comment. Once. I’ll also leave you alone, but be warned. When I think you’ve had enough time, I’m coming after you.” He smiled cruelly. “And I promise you’ll beg for more.”

The door slammed behind him.

He was such a dick.

Max glanced up the staircase and listened to the strains of Rihanna vibrating in the air. Two days had passed since their fight. She’d kept her distance and treated him with an icy politeness that drove him nuts. She worked long shifts at BookCrazy, holed up in the art room, and avoided dinner.

A loneliness he’d never noticed before permeated the air of his home. Her energy pulsed through the rooms but he craved direct contact, a real conversation. He missed her laughter and enthusiasm and wit. He missed everything about her. Rocky got more time with her than he did.

He never should have pushed. When she’d come so naturally into his arms, her scent wrapped around him and he’d been drugged. The softness of her curves pressed against his chest. The silky brush of her curls. He had ached to pull her into the bedroom and claim her all over again. Now, he realized it was the epitome of bad timing.

Max groaned. So stupid. Instead of being rational and giving her the time she needed, he had threatened her. Yeah, the blood had definitely gone to his other head, and he had no excuse. Her heartfelt statement about her own happily-ever-after seared into his brain and broke his heart. Was that what he’d done to her? Ripped away her illusions and dreams?

He always worried he’d break her heart one day. Sure, he was forced into marrying her, but why didn’t it feel like such a chore? Why did he look forward to coming home and catching a glimpse? She deserved so much more. Instead, she got him.

Depression settled over him. The hell with it. He’d cook dinner and force her to interact. Max headed toward the bedroom, stripped off his suit, and changed into jeans and a black T-shirt. He poured two glasses of Merlot and settled on a chicken salsa dish she’d like. The meditative motions of preparing a meal soothed him. The culinary kitchen had been custom-built, with cream granite countertops, a Sub-Zero fridge, a brick oven for pizza, and a Viking stove. The island cut through the main area with a sink and separate work area, a breakfast bar, and cushioned leather stools. He grabbed a few copper pots, drizzled in the olive oil, and began chopping tomatoes and onions. Ten minutes later, she clattered down the stairs and stood framed in the kitchen. “I’m going. Don’t wait up.”

He threw down the knife and leaned one hip against the counter. “I’m cooking dinner. Where are you going?”

“Bookstore.”

“Stay for a bite. You need food before your long shift.”

She shifted on her feet, obviously tempted. “Can’t. I’ll grab something at the café.”

“They only have snacks, you need protein. For God’s sake, I promise you don’t have to stay long in my company. Sit.”

“I don’t—”

“Sit.”

She pulled out a chair and sat. Her immediate response reminded him of her obedience in the bedroom and gave him an instant hard-on. He slid the chicken onto a plate, topped it with salsa, and plopped it on the counter with a fork. She dove in with her usual relish, making those yummy sounds of pleasure. He shifted with discomfort and tried to adjust. “Did you find anything out about our dove?”

“Yes. I tracked the tag to an owner about fifty miles from here. She’s a homing pigeon, known as a rock dove. Name’s Gabby. She’s not a regular racer, but he sends her out on occasional missions to keep her sharp. A few of his friends belong to a club, and I guess all their doves returned except Gabby. He’s been frantic.”

Max filled his own plate and slid into the stool across from her. “I didn’t realize racing pigeons even existed. Is he coming to pick her up?”

She took a sip of her wine. “No, I explained what we did and the damage to Gabby’s wing, and he agreed to let me take care of her here until she’s healed. Then I can let her fly home. If there are any problems with her recovery, he’ll drive over to pick her up, but I think she’s doing better already. She’s alert and seems to know what’s going on.”

“How long before she can be released?”

“Two to three weeks, depending.” A smile broke over her face. “The owner said she was used to carry letters back and forth between separated couples. Isn’t that cool?”

He smiled back. “Extremely. Just be careful, sweetheart. You always get attached.”

Her nose scrunched up. “I know. She’s only a bird, so I should be okay.”

“Oh, yeah. What about the chipmunk?”

A laugh escaped her lips. “I forgot about that! But I was young.”

He snorted and forked another piece of chicken. “You named him Dale from the Disney cartoons. I think he faked that hurt leg. You set him up in the shed with his own man cave. No wonder the rodent didn’t want to leave.”

“Don’t call him a rodent. He was sweet. He didn’t stay long.”

“He was damn mean. Bit me and Michael all the time when we tried to play with him. Then he brought all his rodent friends to party and we were afraid to even go in and get our bikes.”

Her dark eyes glowed and the lines in her beautiful face softened. “Papa got so mad. They chewed holes in the wall and stored towers of nuts. He forced me to get rid of Dale.”

“You cried for days.”

“I have trouble letting go of those I love.”

The startling confession burst through the room. She jerked back, obviously regretting her words, and concentrated on her plate. Max spoke softly. “I know. They always seem to come back to you, though. “

Carina refused to look up. He fought the urge to caress her cheek and kiss the sadness away. Instead, he poured more wine and changed the subject. “How’s your work coming? Are you still doing portraits?”

A strange expression flickered over her face. “Kind of. I’m trying something new.”

“I have a lot of contacts in the art world, Carina. I’d love to set you up with a consultant. If they like it, maybe a show can be arranged?”

She shook her head in between bites. “No, thanks. I’m handling this on my own.”

He bit back his frustration and reminded himself she needed to prove her own success. He already believed in her. She just needed to believe in herself. “Fine, I respect that. You don’t have to work such long hours at BookCrazy, you know. Alexa told Michael you were amazing, but you take double shifts all the time. I never see you anymore.”

“I need the money.”

He cocked his head. “You’re from one of the richest families in Italy. I don’t do too poorly myself, and you’re my wife. Why the hell would you need to work for money?”

She lifted her chin in that stubborn tilt that drove him crazy. “Michael’s rich. You’re rich. I’m not rich. I may have a fat trust fund, but I’m going to make my own way, just like everyone else. If that means working extra shifts, I’m not complaining.”

He bit back a curse. “Family takes care of their own. What’s theirs is yours. Why can’t you understand that?”

She gave an unladylike snort. “Same way you can’t understand how it feels to have failed at everything you’ve done.”

His mouth dropped open. “Failed? You succeed at everything you touch.”

Her voice turned to ice. “I’m not stupid, Max. You may want to get me back in bed, but lying doesn’t cut it. I sucked at being a chef like Mama. I wasn’t good at business like Julietta and Michael. And I sucked at anything to do with personal fashion, beauty, or looks like Venezia. Don’t insult me.”

His heart broke. This beautiful, spirited, giving woman believed she wasn’t worthy. The urge to strangle her or kiss her warred inside him. Instead, he swallowed past the tightness in his throat and told the truth.

“You succeeded at everything precious in this world, Carina. People. Animals. Love. Nothing else matters, you know. But you just don’t see it.”

She stilled. Those soulful dark eyes grew wide with astonishment. A connection blazed between them, hot and bright, and the air grew clogged with emotion. He put down his fork to reach for her.

Carina jumped off the seat and took a few steps back. “I’ve got to go. Thanks for dinner.”

She flew out of the kitchen and left him alone and empty.

A few days later, Carina studied the paintings in front of her with a critical eye. The class had helped with form and taught her a few techniques that took her to the next level. Her teacher even commented on getting in contact with someone for representation, especially if she completed a cohesive series. A tiny trickle of alarm slid down her spine. A public showing would mean more than coming out of the closet as a hopeful artist. It would mean stripping naked and screaming “Look at me!” in the middle of Times Square.

The real problem, of course, was her family. Her supportive, well-meaning core group who believed she had talent but painted as a hobby. Not once had she expressed her soul screaming for the opportunity to be a professional artist. Art was well respected in Bergamo, but business was revered, especially with the famous La Dolce Famiglia bakeries in the Conte name.

Carina nibbled at her bottom lip and scrawled her name at the bottom.

Her first official piece completed. And if anyone saw it, they’d believe she was a slut.

The lines were blurred in a hazy gray black that cast the couple in shadow. The woman’s hard nipple revealed her arousal, and her face caught the onlooker’s eye with a naked ecstasy as if she was fighting orgasm. The man’s back was turned and blocked the rest of her bare body. Lean muscles bunched and a tattoo claimed the top left shoulder in that of a serpent. The window sketched toward the right-hand side of the painting gave the impression of a sense of voyeurism peeking into their sensual world, while the bright light of day and sanity remained through the glass.

She fisted her hands, then slowly worked out her fingers. The cramp in her wrist told her she’d been at it for hours. Excitement nibbled on her nerve endings. It was good. She felt it deep inside her gut, a sense of satisfaction she rarely experienced anymore. Not since she started college. She’d fought the pull of her instinct for a while now, but only created flat, two-dimensional portraits that left her cold.

The raw erotic nature shocked her. Who would’ve known Max ripped open the gates of her soul and tore off the locks? No going back to sensible, clean creations. The moment she lay eyes on the portraits in Sawyer’s office, she knew she needed to dig deep and paint nudity. No matter what happened with her work, at least she was telling the truth. About her nature. Her wants. Needs. Fantasies.

About time.

She cleaned her brushes, tucked away her acrylics, and stripped off her smock. Time to give Rocky a treat and check on Gabby. She’d invited her family for dinner, and hoped she’d have time for a quick nap in the sun first.

Gabby greeted her with the normal coo she’d begun to love. Already, she dreaded the time she needed to let Gabby fly away. The bird’s bright, knowing eyes told a deeper story with an exotic past Carina would love to know more about. Maybe she’d have a chat with her owner before releasing her.

She checked the dressing and bandage, fed her, and carried the converted fish tank outside to the back patio. The Olympic-sized pool was surrounded by lush foliage, imported palm trees, and vivid red and purple irises to surround swimmers in a tropical lagoon. Rocky padded outside, not giving Gabby a second thought, and plopped beside her on a lounge chair. Carina slid into the Adirondack chair with her pets flanking her, a glass of Merlot on the table, and the sound of gushing water and wind in the background.

A sense of peace settled over her. She murmured occasional comments to Gabby and Rocky, and slowly, her lids closed.

“Carina?”

Her name slid from his mouth like honey and caramel, all smooth and gooey and delicious. She smiled and lifted her face upward, too relaxed to lift her arms. The delicious smell of man, soap, and a hint of spicy cologne drifted on the breeze. “Hmmm?”

Gentle fingers caressed her cheek. She pressed against that warm hand and kissed his palm. A low mutter. “Ah, sweetheart, there’s a storm coming. You should come in.”

“ ’Kay.” She stretched, wanting him to strip off her clothes, part her thighs, and slide home. Her muscles clenched in delicious anticipation. She nibbled on his strong wrist and sighed. “Taste good. Smell good.”

“Dio, you are killing me.”

The fuzzy haze of sleep blurred her good intentions and her brain waves. She blinked and reached up. Pushed back the crisp strands of hair across his brow. Traced the arrogant hook of his nose, his soft, full lips. “You’re so beautiful,” she murmured. “Too beautiful for me, though. Aren’t you, Max?”

“Fuck this. I’m no saint.”

His lips coasted over hers. Warm, capable, sipping from her mouth like savoring an expensive glass of wine. His taste exploded on her tongue and she moaned, opening to him fully. He kissed her for long, slow moments that went on and on, until she melted into the chair and the flesh between her legs grew swollen and wet. When he finally lifted his head, she knew he’d won. Waited for him to pick her up and bring her into his bedroom. And at that moment, she didn’t care anymore.

The doorbell rang.

The ding caused Rocky to launch off his rest spot and bark. She bumped back into reality like a rough landing and pushed herself up. Max shook his head. “I may kill whoever’s at that door,” he said. With one last hard look, he disappeared through the French doors.

Carina slid out of the chair. She wondered if Fate stepped in to save her. How long could she hold out before falling back into his bed? The voice of her sister-in-law floated through the screen and she took a deep breath to steady her nerves. She was safe from temptation now.

For a while.

Maggie waddled in looking generally huge, uncomfortable, and majorly pissed off. The black stretch knit dress hit her knees, and rhinestone flip-flops slapped over the marble floors. “If they don’t get out of me now, Carina, I’m gonna take them out myself.” She marched into the living room, stood at the edge of the comfy chair, and fell back. Carina had a feeling she wouldn’t be getting up unless they had a crane.

She clucked with sympathy and a bit of humor. “Probably next week, Maggie. They’re close.”

Maggie glared and took the glass of seltzer with lemon from Max. “No, they’re not. I just went to the doctor yesterday, who told me there wasn’t a contraction in sight. Nada. Niente. They’re nice and cozy in there. They get food, sleep, and play karate when they’re bored. Why would they come out?” She moaned. “I didn’t want to get a C-section unless necessary but I think it’s the only way. They need to feel threatened or they’ll never come out.”

Carina patted her sister-in-law’s hand. “I bet within five days you’ll be holding two perfectly healthy, happy babies. Remember the same thing happened with Alexa? She was two weeks late with her first.”

“Yeah, that was a riot. Nick almost drove to the hospital without her.”

Max brought Mama Conte some tea and they sat in front of the crackling fire. “Yeah, I heard that story, a pure classic. How is Alexa doing?” he asked.

“Fine. They took Lily to Sesame Place for the weekend. You know how she obsesses over Elmo.” Lightning lit the sky, and a rumble of thunder sounded low and threatening. “Supposed to be a wicked storm today. Hope Michael doesn’t get caught in it. He’s running late.”

“Yeah, he was going to take the car into Manhattan for his meeting, but decided on the train. There’s some big protest going on by Wall Street today and he didn’t want to get stuck in traffic. He should be okay.”

Maggie rubbed her massive belly. “Not sure if I can even eat tonight. Awful indigestion all day.” The ringing tune of “Sexy Back” boomed through the room, and Maggie reached over for her purse. “That’s Michael. I can’t reach it.”

Carina grabbed the hot pink cell phone and handed it to her. Maggie’s side of the conversation included curse words and sympathetic murmurings. Finally she clicked off. “You are not going to be believe this. There’s a major blackout in the city and all the trains are delayed. He’s stuck there for a few more hours.”

Carina nibbled on her lip. “Will he be okay? Are there police? Where is he right now?”

Maggie sighed. “He’s eating at La Mia Casa. It’s a little Italian restaurant I used to haunt, and now I got him addicted. I know Gavin, the owner. He’ll take good care of Michael.”

“Thank God. Well, you can sleep over here if you want. We’ll treat you to a homemade breakfast in the morning.”

Mama Conte snorted. “I will make breakfast, Carina. I miss not cooking for my family, and my skills are getting rusty. Tonight we will have a slumber party.”

“Can we watch Magic Mike?” Maggie asked.

Max lifted a brow. “Somehow I don’t think Mama Conte will like that choice.”

“Why?” the older woman demanded. “What is it about?”

“Male strippers,” Maggie said. “It’s good.”

Her mother looked thoughtful. “I will try it.”

Max groaned. “I’m going to kill Michael.”

The hours flew by with good conversation, laughter, and food. Michael called once more to check in and confirm he was okay, but probably wouldn’t be able to get out of the city until early morning. Maggie rested her feet on a pillow and snuggled under a comforter. Max finally caved and allowed them to slip in the movie, but promptly regretted it when all three women panted over the first scene. He threw popcorn at the television screen to distract them.

Maggie sighed with satisfaction as the ending credits rolled. “I love that movie,” she declared. “It’s so deep.”

Max snorted. “It’s female porn. I feel dirty just watching it.”

“You’re just mad because the hot chick never took her clothes off.”

“I have more respect for women than you do men.”

“Yeah, right, I think—Oh, my God.”

Carina looked at Maggie. Pure horror contorted her features. She breathed deep and glanced down in shock. “I think my water broke.”

The dampness of the sofa confirmed it. She rubbed her stomach. “I thought it was indigestion, but now I’m thinking I was in labor today.” She looked across the room in a panic.

Carina froze. Max held his breath. Mama Conte rose from the sofa with a serene smile. Her dark eyes glowed. “You are going to have your babies, Margherita,” she said. “And everything will be fine.”

Tears swam in Maggie’s green eyes and she shook her head hard. “Michael’s not here,” she whispered. “I need him.”

Mama Conte took both her hands and squeezed. “I know. Your labor will go for many hours with twins. He will be here. If I know my son, he will do what he needs so he is beside you when your babies come.”

“I’m scared.”

Her mama laughed. “But of course, you are scared! This is one of the scariest things you will ever do in your life. We are all here with you, Margherita. You have a family now, and we are not leaving.”

Maggie took a deep breath. Nodded. Then reached for her phone. “Okay. Let me call Michael, and the doctor. Max, can you get the car ready? Carina, can you go upstairs and find some things for me to bring? Toothbrush, robe, T-shirts, that sort of thing?”

“On it.” Carina rose from the couch and tugged Max with her. Her husband wore the comical expression of a man terrified to move, as if one word would elicit contractions and screaming from Maggie. “Max?”

“Huh?”

“Try to do better than Nick, okay? Get the car and call Alex and Nick for us. Let them know what’s happening. Can you do that?”

“Sure.”

“Don’t leave without us.” His panicked eyes made something inside soften. She grabbed his hands and interweaved her fingers within his. Max blinked in surprise, and she smiled. “We get to see our nieces or nephews born today. Let’s not forget a moment, okay?”

He lowered his head and kissed her. Just the softest touch, a whisper of lips sliding over hers and reminding her she wasn’t alone.

“You’re right. Thanks for reminding me.”

He released her and disappeared down the hallway.