The Marriage Mistake (11 page)

Max winced. “I’m sorry, Carina. Bergamo is our home, but I know what it feels like to be pigeonholed. Hard to try anything new without the whole town coming down in judgment.”

“Exactly.” A smile curved her lips. “I remember when my girlfriend and I snuck into one of those underground clubs. We wanted to get drunk and flirt with cute boys, have some fun. The moment we ordered our drinks, Father Richard spotted me and told the bartender I was underage.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“No, he was out of uniform, and I guess he’s a pretty good dancer. I never looked at him the same again, and Mama skinned my hide big-time when she found out.”

“Poor baby. No way to be bad.”

“And no one to be bad with.”

The tension twisted between them. Rocky moaned as if he caught the undercurrent and lifted his head. The kiss hung in the air like a hooker at the Queen’s table. Totally in your face and nowhere to subtly hide.

Suddenly, the emotions of the night crashed upon her. A draining weariness took hold of her body, and tears burned her lids. So stupid. She needed to get out of here before her entire plan crumbled and Max realized she was just a big baby.

She rose to her feet and tightened the robe around her. Her voice came out husky but she avoided his gaze. “I’m going to bed. I’m exhausted. Which bedroom should I use?”

“Top of the stairs. First one on the left.”

“Thank you.”

She moved past him, breath held, but he made no move to stop her. When her foot hit the first step his words drifted to her ears in a caress. “Those men were assholes, Carina. You were always gorgeous.”

She bit her lip. Clenched the railing. And refused to answer.

•   •   •

Carina studied the canvas in front of her and fought the need to hurl something at the nearest wall.

She was officially physically and creatively frustrated.

Her teeth chewed on her lower lip. It had taken her years to finally control her famous emotions. From tantrums to crying jags, she’d always felt things more deeply than the rest of her family. Now, she was proud of her restraint and ability to engage without the force field of drama around her. Unfortunately, some of the loss of emotion escaped from her painting, and she needed to find a way to get back in touch with her artistic diva.

Muttering under her breath, she opened up the windows to let some fresh air circulate and pumped up the volume of Usher. The grindy, sexy tempo urged her to explore something deeper in her art, but she wasn’t sure what. At least, not yet. Her usual portraits seemed blasé, and she had no interest in landscapes.

She let her thoughts float as she attacked the white space with some blinding color. It was funny how, even as frustrated as she was now, there was a sense of satisfaction never present when she was in the office. For so long, she’d worked toward one goal: dazzle her family with her business skills, make them take notice, ultimately securing her own place in the company. Her ease with accounting only made it easier to continue on the path, and though she enjoyed the people at La Dolce Maggie and the many aspects of the business world, most of it remained flat.

Her dream of a career in the art world caused her family and friends to pat her on the head and encourage her hobby. Gut instinct told her it could be more than that with
a little work, but she never had the confidence to buck the system. It seemed so much easier to finish her master’s and settle.

Gloominess settled over her like Pooh’s rain cloud. If she didn’t toughen up, Michael would give up on her and she’d disappoint her family. She tried so hard to be firm, but when she heard the tender stories from people, her mushy heart betrayed her. She knew her assets well: figures and her motivation to work hard. Yet it seemed many of the qualities revered in being a good person rarely were appreciated in the business world.

Max ruled La Dolce Maggie as well as her brother. Their no-nonsense resolve brooked no argument from competitors, yet they were generous and friendly to the employees. She couldn’t even blame their success on being men, since Julietta was the female version of them and ruled La Dolce Famiglia with an iron fist and high heels.

The thought of spending years cooped up in a suit jacket behind a desk prickled her nerves with dread. Half of the fun came from her interactions, but most of them ended up with her covering or saving someone’s ass. She didn’t mind, but Max was getting suspicious. Soon it may come to light that her management skills kind of sucked.

Max.

The memory of their kiss jolted her like an amusement park ride. God, it had been so hot. That forceful tongue, the way he took control of the kiss, the way he pushed up
her dress and challenged her with his stare to stop him. It was everything she’d dreamed of in a sexual encounter, and of course, it had to be with the man she was done with.

Fate had a terrible sense of humor.

She added fuchsia and kept the lines bold as she painted freestyle to relax. Not that he’d mentioned the kiss or even acknowledged the evening. One week had passed and he avoided being alone with her at all costs. Her lips curved at the thought. Big, bad Maximus Gray, scared to spend too much time with innocent me.

Damned if she hadn’t given him something to think about also. There was no way she imagined that type of explosive chemistry. His erection proved his interest, but he was probably terrified Michael would kill him for taking his sister for a test drive.
Coward.

The idea exploded through her head. The brush paused midair.

A one-night stand.

The image of a naked Max thrusting her to orgasm made her clench her thighs together. Why not? She had no interest in him long term, and planned to find her own man. But perhaps one night of releasing their sexual tension could help both of them. She’d be free of that silly worship she held as a girl and be able to experience her fantasy. Michael never had to know, and she’d convince Max it was just for one night. No recriminations or future or questions.

She was also much more realistic. No, she’d ripped off the blinders and planned like the woman she now was. Just one perfect, orgasm-filled night with Max and she’d be able to walk away.

She threw her head back and laughed at the possibility.

Oh, yeah. This could be fun.

Carina went back to her work with a new focus and began to plan.

M
ax punched the button on the intercom. “Can you get Carina in here for me, please?” He shrugged off his jacket and hung it on the back of the chair. His skin itched. Probably from his rising temper.

She’d done it again.

The last week twisted into an unruly chain of events that pounded his temples in pain. Ever since that night he’d lost control and kissed her, his karma turned bad. Very bad. Maybe he deserved it.

He took a sip of lukewarm coffee and tried to wrap his brain around his options.

Her training started off so well. She worked tirelessly, was great at accounting, but the bottom line worried him.
She sucked at management. Overall, she kind of sucked in the business world for one lousy reason.

Her heart.

The woman didn’t have a ruthless bone in her body. No matter how hard she tried to buckle down and tackle the odds and ends of running a chain of bakeries, she couldn’t seem to connect with the coldness her sister Julietta was able to connect with. When employees called out sick, she sent get-well cards and checked on them. The sales team took less than a week to discover she was an easy target. Max bet instead of chicken soup, they needed aspirin for hangovers.

Top-level management needed to be respected, and feared. Her groupie fans adored her upbeat personality, generosity, and ability to be a team player. Unfortunately, she covered too many asses and became the whole team.

The door opened.

She hurried in with one of her trademark short skirts, and the sexy prim blouse that gave him bad dreams. Ever since his insane breakdown, he’d been extra careful to keep alone time to a minimum. Not that she seemed to give their encounter a second thought. Seems their first kiss wasn’t earth-shattering after all. His bruised ego mocked him daily. Did she kiss all men like that? Was he one of many now and not worth even an embarrassed blush?

“You needed me?”

She huffed a bit and leaned one hip against the edge of
the desk. The three-inch stiletto heels beckoned him to go for round two, and this time make her come. Max turned quickly as his own cheeks flushed and grabbed onto the tendril of temper.

“I thought we agreed to keep our signature dessert secret until opening.” He kept his voice hard and cold, reminding himself this was just business. “We need to build excitement and curiosity with the locals for a successful initiation. Correct?”

He glanced at her. Brows drawn in a confused frown, her toe tapped on the floor to an unknown rhythm. “Of course I remember.”

“Then why did I receive a call that Pete’s Bread Shop is now selling one of our pastries?”

She gasped. “Which one?”

“Polenta e Osci.” The moist yellow cake resembled the texture of polenta, but held a hazelnut cream filling, balanced with a dollop of apricot and elaborately chiseled chocolate birds perched on top. A staple in Bergamo, many American bakeries stayed away from the true Italian classics and stuck with the basics, which made this addition unique.

“No way.” Carina shook her head. “I spoke with Pete myself a few days ago when we went to the site. He doesn’t have the talent to make that dessert, or the proper pastry chef.”

Bingo.

Max drilled her with his gaze. “You spoke with our competitor?”

She shifted her feet. “Well, yes, he approached me to introduce himself. He was quite polite and nice and wanted to welcome us to the neighborhood.”

“I bet. Think back to your conversation. Did you tell him we were featuring that dessert?”

“Absolutely not. He was chattering about an uncle who visited Italy and loved a certain pastry and wanted to know . . .” She trailed off. A spark of pity cut through him at the sudden realization and horror on her face. “Oh, no.”

“He wanted to know the name and if we were going to serve it. Right?”

She bit her lip. “I can’t believe I fell for his ruse. He seemed so genuine. He told me his uncle was sick and would love to taste the dessert again, and I said we’d be serving it at the opening.” He waited for her to duck her head, but she met his gaze head-on. “I’m sorry. I really screwed up.”

With another employee, he would’ve ripped them apart and let them stew for a few days. He opened his mouth but causing Carina any more stress was impossible. Her raw honesty when she made a mistake only made him ache to cross the room and hug her like in the old days.

He kept his distance and his head clear. “I know.” He paused and studied her face. “Carina, do you like working here?”

She tightened her lips. “Yes. I’m sorry I messed up, but Michael’s counting on me. I’ll do better.”

Her beautiful chocolate eyes filled with determination. The need to comfort strangled him but he kept his feet rooted to the floor. “I know Michael wants you to eventually run La Dolce Maggie. You’re dedicated and smart—I never questioned those qualities about you,
cara
. But is this what you want?”

The flash of doubt was quickly buried. “Of course. This is what I trained for. I don’t intend to let my family down.”

Pride cut through him. The woman before him held more loyalty and work ethic than anyone he’d known. Still, he remembered her creativity and longing to paint. Remembered her mother hanging her work in the kitchen and being surprised at her talent. “You never answered my question. Is this what you want?”

She sank white teeth into the tender flesh of her lip. He remembered plunging his tongue between those ruby lips and devouring her. Max held back a groan of sheer misery. “This is all I have,” she said softly.

He tipped her chin up and studied her face. Why would she say something so odd? Endless choices stretched ahead of her. Michael may have hopes she’d sit at the helm, but his friend would back her if she insisted on a different path. Venezia pursued a career in fashion, and Michael always boasted of her talent and individuality.

He sensed her heart had never belonged to the business industry like Julietta’s. In his gut, she belonged somewhere else. He just wasn’t sure where.

A quick tap on the door pulled his attention. Jim peeked his head in, earbud firmly in place. “Boss, we got a problem. Michael needs you to get over to the waterfront location. There’s some type of mix-up with the supplier, and the chef is freaking out.”

“Won’t a conference call handle it?”

“Nah, this one needs a hands-on approach.”

“Fine. Tell Michael I’m on my way and I’ll report back to him later.”

“Got it.” Jim disappeared. Max shrugged on his suit jacket and grabbed his briefcase. “Let me fix this and we’ll talk more later. Cover me while I’m gone.”

“Of course.”

He flew out the door and made a note to dig deeper later.

•   •   •

Two hours later, Carina worked her way through her paperwork pile as she manned Max’s desk. The events of the morning still bothered her, but she decided to push through and make up for it. One screwup shouldn’t make her beat herself bloody. Everyone made mistakes in the beginning—isn’t that what Max and Michael consistently told her?

She flexed her neck back and forth and tried to concentrate on the endless array of numbers filling up the computer screen. The phone buzzed.

“Yes?”

The secretary’s voice came over the phone. “Robin is here to see Max.”

“From Robin’s Organics?” she questioned.

“Yes, he says it’s urgent.”

“Send him in, please.”

The man who entered had shaggy chestnut hair, muddy brown eyes, and ruddy cheeks. He wore a red shirt with
ROBIN RULES
scrawled across the front, and jeans with a hole in them. Not the typical business-suited executive from one of their most important suppliers. Definitely a man who got his hands in the muck. She rose and shook his hand. “I’m Carina Conte. Max isn’t here at the moment. May I help you?”