“We have to get married, Carina.”

Her eyes widened. “Hell, no. We don’t have to get married. I’m in America now, and just because we had sex doesn’t mean we have to make it legal. I don’t even want to marry you!”

Max jerked back but remained intractable. “Your mother will not accept anything less. Your family is going to find out and it will ruin your reputation.”

“Good, my reputation needed a bit of color.”

“This isn’t funny. My mother will also know, and it will break her heart.”

A rage of emotions shook her body. Damn him. Carina squeezed her eyes shut and prayed she’d wake up out of the nightmare. “She’ll get over it. We’ll make them understand. It will not affect our lives back in Bergamo or here.”

“I can’t do that to her. I can’t let her believe I turned my back on everything I value. We have no other choice.”

Her eyes flew back open. “Hell, yes, we have another choice. I need you to go, Max. Please. Let me go see my mother, and I promise I’ll clear the whole thing up. Okay?”

He studied her in the morning light and slowly nodded. With graceful movements, he moved away from the bed. His last words drifted to her ear in warning.

“Go see her. But I already know it will not make a difference.”

The adjoining door shut. Fighting raw panic, Carina jumped from the bed and flung some clothes on. Her sore muscles screamed in agony as she pulled on a pair of jeans, donned a black tank top, and twisted her hair in a knot. Shoving a pair of flip-flops on her feet, she brushed her teeth and headed down to the buffet.

The elegant dining room held wide archways and soaring open windows. She walked through the main floor as the endless tables boasted steaming platters of breakfast and lunch foods to satisfy any appetite or fancy. Chefs with white hats nodded to her as she walked past and searched for her mother. Finally, her gaze snagged on an elderly woman alone on the balcony, with three plates of food in front of her. The heavily carved walking cane lay beside the table.

Her heart tugged at the familiar face she had counted on her entire life. Mama Conte beamed up at her and pulled her down for a kiss. She smelled of sweet maple syrup and cinnamon toast. “My dearest Carina, I have never seen such food in my life. Or such a fake, beautiful Grand Canal.”

“Hello, Mama.” She took the seat across from her. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to stop and see you before flying to Michael’s house. Also wanted to see this famous Vegas. Who would’ve known such glamour existed in the heart of the desert, no?”

“Yes. Hopefully I’ll get to show you around. But I have some exciting news for you first.”

“Yes?”

“Max and I are getting married.”

Carina handed it to her mama. The woman was a practiced poker player. Her face lit up and she clapped her hands together in pretend joy. “No! I did not realize you and Max were seeing each other. I am so happy, my dear. Wait till I tell your sisters.”

“Should we wait to marry in Italy or get married here?”

“Oh, definitely here. Look at this place—it is a perfect place for a wedding!”

“Mama, stop it.”

The older woman never flinched. Just stared at her with those steady dark eyes without a shred of remorse. “Stop what?”

“I know what happened, Mama. You found out Max and I slept together and you forced Max to ask me to marry him. How could you? How could you force a man to take me on like some kind of responsibility?”

Mama Conte sighed and pushed away her plate. She took her time and sipped at the strong espresso. “I did not mean to deceive you, Carina. I thought it would be more romantic if Max asked you without you believing it had anything to do with me.”

She gasped. “It has everything to do with you. Let me try to explain. Max and I spent the night together, but we don’t want a long-term relationship. We’re not right for one another. By threatening him with honor, you’re forcing him to make a choice he does not want. We can work this out. If you keep the whole thing to yourself, no one ever has to know. No one will get hurt.”

The woman who raised four children and built an empire narrowed her gaze and leaned in. Carina trembled under her dictating stare. “You do not understand. You slept with Max. I have not raised you or Maximus to run away from your responsibilities. Just because you come to America does not mean you lose your values. This must be made right.”

Carina’s heart beat so loud the sound roared in her ears. She breathed deeply and tried to treat it as a business deal she had to win at any cost. Unfortunately, her mother was the strongest opposition she’d ever faced. “Mama, I never meant to hurt you, but this is my life now. I cannot marry Max. You must understand that.”

“Why?”

“Because! Because we don’t care for each other like that. Because when two people have sex it doesn’t necessarily mean a lifetime commitment.”

Mama Conte nodded and crossed her arms in front of her. Her voice turned cold. “I see. Then you must answer me one question. If you are willing to hurt me and mock everything I did to raise you, every ethic and moral Papa and I believed in, you must promise to tell me the truth when I ask you this.”

Shame flooded her. Carina clenched her fingers and nodded. “I promise. Ask me.”

“Look me in the eye, Carina Conte, and tell me you honestly do not love Max.”

The breath whooshed out of her body like she’d been clubbed. Carina stared at her mother with a combination of horror and relief. Just say the words. Tell her very simply she did not love Max and she’d be off the hook. Sure, there’s be guilt, and her mother would be disappointed, but there would be no forced marriage. No false relationship or phony vows of affection they both didn’t feel.

I. Don’t. Love. Max.

She opened her mouth.

The years of growing up under her mother’s care flashed before her. After Papa died, her world collapsed on its foundation and it was hard to find her footing. Michael helped. But her mother was the rock that held it all together. An iron fist and a heart that beat pure gold, she stood beside her every night while she cried and told her stories of Papa, never afraid to talk about the man who was her lifetime love. She moved through her grief with honesty and a courage Carina swore she’d duplicate in honor of her mother.

As the words formed on her tongue, her heart screamed her a liar, and for a moment, she reached a turning point.

Her mother waited. Trusting she’d tell the truth. Trusting her to be real with herself and never act the coward.

She still loved Max.

The realization slammed her back. Grief and hopelessness flooded her body like a tsunami hell-bent on destruction.

Her voice broke. “I can’t.”

Her mother reached over and took her hand and squeezed it. “I know. You have always loved him. Knowing this, I must enforce this marriage, and you must try and find your way. Max has deep feelings for you, my sweet Carina. I will not allow him to deny himself or your chance. If you do not agree to this, I will call Max’s mother. I will tell Michael everything, and you will do more damage than you can ever know. Because you will break my heart.”

Her throat tightened and suddenly, she was completely drained. The fight slid from her muscles and she slumped on the chair. Like a child, she wanted to cry and crawl into her mother’s lap for comfort. But she was grown now, and had to face her own consequences and decisions.

There was no longer a choice.

She had to marry Max.

But she didn’t have to like it.

* * *

Carina knocked on his door.

Her weak heart exploded with lust and something deeper when he answered and stepped aside. Thank God he’d put on some clothes, but barely. The blue sweat shorts hung low and showed his washboard stomach. The matching T-shirt seemed old as dirt, and the worn fabric clung to his shoulders and chest like a lover.

She fought the impulse to lean in and drag in a breath of his scent—a mixture of soap, coffee, and a hint of musk. He’d showered and his hair was damp and neatly tamed back from his forehead.

“Well?” One bare foot was propped up on the other while he faced her.

“You were right. She wants us to get married.”

Carina waited for a vicious curse. A full-fledged panic attack. Anything to give her an excuse to break her mother’s heart and take the punishment. Instead, he nodded as if he already knew. “I figured. You want coffee?” He gestured toward the table set from room service. Silver domes lifted to reveal scrambled eggs and toast, and a full pot of coffee sat beside a vase with a single long-stemmed rose.

Her temper exploded. “No, I don’t want any goddamn coffee! And I don’t want a husband who doesn’t want me, either. Do you really want to do this? Do you want to be trapped in a permanent relationship you didn’t even choose?”

He lifted his cup and studied her. His face reminded her of a mask, completely devoid of any emotion. “Yes.”

“Why?”

He sipped the steaming brew. “Because it’s the right thing to do.”

Fury broke loose within and unleashed. “Fuck you, Max. I’ll marry you, but I won’t be your little puppet. Just remember I never asked for this. I don’t need your pity, or good intentions. I had my one perfect night and I don’t need another.”

She slammed the door behind her.

* * *

The day passed in a blur.

The La Capella chapel was a Tuscan-inspired space that fit perfectly. The rich earth tones, highly polished marble floors, and mahogany pews reminded her of home. Carina donned the simple white floor-length Vera Wang dress with numb fingers. Her mother fussed over her hair as if it were a real wedding, twisting the unruly strands into shiny fat curls. When she placed the pearl-crusted veil on her head and covered her face with the white film, no one saw the tears that sprung to her eyes.