What options did he have? His mind worked with brutal efficiency until the only solution lay before him. Convince his mother he was legally married, get Venezia to rush the wedding, and then a few months later break the sad news that his marriage didn’t work out. He’d deal with the consequences. Right now, he needed to fix this. After all, fixing family dramas was his job.

“I’ll be married by the end of the week,” he said.

His sister’s sharp indrawn breath cut through the phone.

“Tell Venezia not to do anything rash. I’ll call Mama and tell her the news later.”

“Are you serious? Are you really getting married, or is this a scam?”

Michael closed his eyes. In order to make the plan work, everyone needed to believe it was real. Starting with Julietta. “I have been seeing someone, and was just waiting to make it official. She doesn’t like a fuss and doesn’t want a real wedding, though, so we’ll probably hit the justice of the peace and then I’ll break the news to everyone.”

“Are you telling me the truth, Michael? Listen, this may be a mess but there’s no reason to rush marriage just to calm down Venezia. You don’t have to fix everything all the time.”

“Yes, I do,” he said quietly. The heaviness of responsibility fell over him and smothered his breath. He accepted the weight without question and moved forward. “I’ll give you the details after I talk to my fiancée.”

“Mama will insist on meeting her. She’s not going to take your word.”

His sister’s words locked the door on the cage with a final click.

“I know. I’ll arrange a visit home toward the end of the summer.”

“What? Who is she? What’s her name?”

“I have to go. I’ll call you back later.”

He disconnected the call.

The situation swirled with limited possibilities and too little time. He decided to look for one of those elite escort services that hired out companions for big events. Perhaps, with some luck, he’d find one willing to pretend to be his wife. Of course, delaying the meeting with his mother would take careful planning, and with the opening of the waterfront, he may be diagnosed with an ulcer by the end of the week.

Unless . . .

His gaze cut through the crowd and locked with a pair of cat-green eyes. A flare of lust lit low in his gut in automatic response to the challenge. She arched one perfect brow and tossed her head in dismissal, turning her back on him. He smothered a laugh. The woman was a prickly mass of sex and sarcasm. If there was a rose beneath, she surrounded herself with a thicket of thorns to warn any prince on horseback to stay way back.

Maggie Ryan was perfect for the job.

What if he bit the bullet—was that the American expression?—and got the whole charade over with immediately? What were the odds of another woman he knew traveling to Milan for a week? He trusted her. At least, a tiny bit. If she agreed, he’d be able to rush the encounter, plead work as an excuse to leave early, and allow Venezia to marry this summer. Maggie’s dislike for him was an asset—she wouldn’t get any romantic, moony ideas when she met his family and pretended to be a part of it. Of course, his mama would freak at his choice, probably expecting more of a traditional, nonthreatening spouse. Still, he’d make it work.

If she agreed.

He’d dated many beautiful women, but Maggie held a mysterious quality that hit a man like a sucker punch. Her cinnamon-colored hair shimmered in the light, a straight, silky mass that fell over her cheek and hit her shoulder in a fashionable cut. Her bangs only accented exotically tilted eyes, reminding him of the endless misty green of the Tuscan fields, sucking a man in and allowing him to get lost in the fog. Her features were sharp and clear: a strong tilted jaw, high cheekbones, and elegant nose. The stretchy fabric of her top revealed well-defined shoulders and high, perky breasts. The pewter silk of her trousers glistened as she walked and showed off a perfectly curved rear and long legs that forced a man to imagine them wrapped around his waist. Her scent was a mix of earthy undertones of sandalwood and amber, sneaking into a man’s nostrils and promising him a trip to heaven on earth.

She was no shrinking violet. Her attitude was kick-ass and woman, hear me roar. She walked and breathed and spoke pure sex, and any male in her nearby area scented it. Michael watched as she threw her head back and laughed. Her face reflected an open happiness he rarely caught—only around Alexa or her brother. Even on their first date, a heavy wall of armor barricaded her from any real emotions, evident in her quick wit, sexy smolder, and distant gaze.

She was exactly what she wanted to be without apology. Michael admired and appreciated such women, as they were too far and few between. But something about Maggie pulled him to look closer and scratch beneath the surface. Some lingering pain and need glimmered deep within those green eyes, daring a man to slay the dragon and claim her.

His sudden thought startled him. He mocked the ridiculous image, but his pants still tightened around his erection. God, that’s all he needed—some misrepresented damsel-in-distress fantasy. He’d never be a prince and didn’t want the job. Especially against a woman who’d probably steal his horse and rescue herself.

Still, for a while, he needed her. He just had to convince her to take the part.

“Hmm, I wonder what put that expression on your face. Or rather, who.”

He looked up from his chair and met a pair of laughing blue eyes. His heart warmed at Alexa’s smile, and he stood up to give her a brief hug. “Buon giorno, signora bella. Did you enjoy your party?”

Corkscrew curls slipped out of her ponytail and lay against her cheek. Happiness radiated around her figure. “Loved it. I told Nick I didn’t want a party, but you know how he gets.”

“That’s the reason he’s good at his job.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, good for business but a pain in the ass at home.” She grinned naughtily. “Sometimes.”

Michael laughed. “What do you Americans like to say? TMI—too much info?” Color flushed her cheeks and he tugged on one of her curls. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist. I got you a present.”

She frowned. “Michael, the cake was enough. You almost killed me it was so delicious.”

“It’s a small one. You have meant a lot to me this past year, and I love seeing you happy.” He pulled a tiny box from his jacket pocket. “Open.”

She sighed and looked half-torn. Curiosity won out and she unwrapped the gift. The simple baby booty charm with a gleaming emerald stone lay on the fluffy cotton. She sucked in her breath and pleasure filled him at her expression.

“It’s Lily’s birthstone,” he said. “Nick told me he bought you a new gold chain, so this would go perfectly with it. Do you like?”

Alexa bit her lower lip and she blinked. “I love it,” she said huskily. She leaned forward and kissed his cheek, and he clasped her hands within his. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

“Prego, cara.”

A strong wave of admiration and love washed over him. The moment he’d met her at a business dinner, he knew she was an exceptional woman. Fortunately, since he discovered her marriage, there was never any sexual chemistry between them. Nick was the other half of her heart. But Michael believed he and Alexa were old soul mates—meant to be good friends but never lovers. Nick initially resented their friendship but even he had become both a friend and a business partner. When Lily was born, Michael enjoyed the status of honorary uncle, which soothed the occasional burst of homesickness for his own family.

Maggie, however, disapproved.

Suddenly, she materialized by their side, as if able to sniff out whenever Alexa neared him. She raked him with a sharp look. “Presents, Al?” she asked. “How thoughtful.”

Her tone dripped with icicles and he caught an immediate chill. Her protectiveness and loyalty toward Alexa always fascinated him. How could someone who had the potential to love be so alone? Unless she had a steady lover hidden in the background? She never brought a male companion to any of the functions. Michael studied her figure but caught no softness or satisfaction, just the usual low hum of energy she always exuded.

His thoughts flashed to their first date almost a year ago. Alexa begged him to meet Maggie, citing some strange female instinct that they’d be perfect together. The moment their gazes locked, Michael knew sexual chemistry would never be their problem. She seemed just as startled by their instant connection but played it off with an expert ease until he realized she was a contradictory bundle of emotions—a tigress caught without her roar. The stimulating, edgy conversation only heightened his desire for her, but he knew she’d never be a one-night stand, as badly as she wanted to pretend that was all they could have.

He’d briefly ached to be the man to challenge her limitations and offer more. But his close relationship with Alexa and the threat of a messy breakup kept him from extending the evening to another date. He sought a woman who would fit in with his close-knit family and not keep herself distant. Maggie was the opposite of everything he believed he needed in a mate. Boring, no. But a mass of contradictions, emotions, and work, yes. If they tore each other apart, Alexa and Nick would become the victims, and since he viewed them as family, he never put anyone he cared about at risk. Not because of his own selfish needs.

He’d practiced that move most of his life.

Still, he’d screwed up. Her almost shy offer of the possibility of another date incited a fear he’d never experienced from a woman.