The Marriage Mistake (Marriage to a Billionaire #3)

The Marriage Mistake (Marriage to a Billionaire #3) Page 18

When the door shut behind him, Max groaned. Oh, yeah. He was definitely getting bad karma for that one moment of gut-wrenching pleasure with the only woman he couldn’t have. Now he had to spend a few days in Vegas with her. Alone.

He fought down panic. Maybe he was overestimating his stock. Carina hadn’t made one reference to that night since her announcement. His ego still burned at not being able to tell his Victoria lusted after another man. One he’d actually met before. Even worse was the knowledge they’d had no sexual chemistry. He’d been desperate enough to create some, but her need to marry with her father’s pressure probably stirred panic. Their long conversation was fruitful, and she finally admitted her true feelings for Richard. He kissed her on the forehead and wished her luck, hoping he’d convinced her to take the leap and go after the man she loved.

As for Carina, she pretended nothing happened between them. She acted breezy. Friendly. Casual. Like they’d never had each other’s tongues in their mouths and he’d never had his fingers around her nipple.

Stop.

Vegas was business. She wanted to learn. There was no reason to panic over the idea of spending a few days with her.

The lure of a new deal sang in his blood. The hell with it. He loved Vegas. The heat. The adrenaline. The sin. He’d be seeing his old friend, play some poker, and do what he did best. Close a deal and find a woman for a little while. Someone to take his mind off Carina and get his head back in the game.

He grabbed the file and got to work.

• • •

Carina tried hard not to bounce up and down in her seat like a child, but being cool was getting more difficult. The limo coasted down the streets of Vegas and her senses short-circuited. A city that lived for one reason and boasted the goal from the rooftops: pleasure. A place to lose herself, her inhibitions, and finally get Max into bed.

Welcome to Vegas.

Max watched her with barely veiled amusement but she didn’t care. “Can we go see Celine Dion?”

He wrinkled his nose. “Hell, no.”

“Cirque du Soleil?”

His lip quirked. “Maybe. If I’m drunk enough.”

She stuck out her tongue and he laughed. “I refuse to let your jaded view spoil my pleasure. I dreamed of coming to Vegas and can’t believe I’m here. Do the showgirls really walk around practically naked?”

“Yes.”

“How many times have you been here?”

He relaxed back into the seat and Carina hid her hungry stare. Dressed in a dark business suit, with gold custom cuff links, his hair neatly tamed, he’d turn every woman’s head, including a Vegas showgirl’s. Animal-like grace trapped in civility. The bright red tie hinted at what simmered beneath the surface, and her fingers itched to rip it off in the limo, lower the smoked screen, and act out one of her naughty fantasies. Instead, she remained still and listened to his answer. “A few for business. Some for pleasure.”

“I bet. No Elvis weddings you annulled, right?”

“Brat.”

She smiled and stuck her head out the window, abandoning any demeanor of sophistication. The muggy air pressed down on her and sprung her curls into frizzy disaster but she didn’t care. They pulled into the Venetian Hotel and Carina laughed at the fake imagery of Italy around her. The sleek marble sculptures, numerous water fountains, and lush greenery beckoned her farther into the majestic opening doors. She expected Vegas hotels to be a bit over the top and glitzy, but there was an undertone of sheer elegance with the furnishings.

Michael stopped at the front desk. Her head bounced back and forth as she tried to take in the full power punch of the casino lobby. A giant golden sphere dominated the center of the highly polished floor, set off by soaring columns, large archways, and an elaborately painted ceiling to rival Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel. The whirling array of textures, colors, and lushness fogged her senses with pleasure.

They received their key and were ushered to the tower. Up, up, up they climbed, until the giant from “Jack and the Beanstalk” seemed to be their neighbor. The elevator doors opened, and they keyed in their code and entered the penthouse suite.

Carina gasped.

She knew Michael and Max were very, very rich. From humble beginnings, she watched the family empire grow until they didn’t need to worry about paying bills, supporting Venezia’s shoe habit, or paying off a college education. The house was revamped, but she was still sheltered in Bergamo. Her surroundings never changed, and the inner person she was remained untouched by success or money.

But looking around the suite completely bedazzled her.

The open living room boasted a slate blue sofa, recliner, and gorgeous cherrywood furnishings. Rich canvas paintings of Italian scenes decorated the earthy, rich walls, and the floor-to-ceiling window showed off the city in all its glory. She remained speechless as she walked around and took in the fully stocked wet bar, the Jacuzzi tub, and the massive king-size bed with so many pillows she longed to stretch out and take a nap right now.

“I think I need to ask Michael for a raise,” she muttered.

Max laughed. “This is your business, cara. You’re family, so you’re a part of everything built, including the money.”

“I’m not comfortable taking advantage of something I never really worked for,” she said honestly. “I want to earn my own right to the money.”

His face softened, and for a brief moment, his baby blues filled with a fierce pride. “I know. You have character, which many women don’t exhibit these days.”

Carina snorted. “Plenty of women do, Max. You just find the wrong ones every time.”

“Can we give my lousy track record a break today?”

“Sure.” A flicker of guilt lit her eyes. “I’m sorry about Victoria.”

He shrugged. “You were right. As usual. At least she’s going after who she really wants.” He deliberately changed the subject and pointed toward the adjoining door. “I’ll show you your room.”

He walked over, punched in a code, and swung it open. She stepped into a matching suite with her own personal bed and bath. She let out a squeal of excitement, kicked off her shoes, and did something she’d been craving since they walked in the door.

She ran full speed and launched herself on the mattress. Sinking into sheer softness, she groaned and stretched out, luxuriating in the cozy feel of the pillows and blanket. “I’m in heaven,” she declared.

Max stopped at the side of the bed, grinning. “You never could resist a good jump. Remember when we were at your cousin Brian’s and I rigged up that awful contraption so you could pretend you were an Olympic gymnast?”

She laughed. “Oh, my God, that’s right! I tried to leap over but you made it too high and I broke my wrist.”

“I thought I’d be punished for months, but you came back from the doctor and no one ever mentioned it again.”

She propped up her elbow and rested her cheek in her palm. “Because I never told.”

“Huh?”

Carina smiled at the memory. “I knew you’d get in trouble. Hell, you and Michael were always put in charge of making sure I was safe. I told Mama I built the thing myself.”

He stared at her for a long time without blinking. “You lied for me?”

The soft question suddenly did bad things to her tummy. He looked at her as if seeing her in a new perspective, but she didn’t know if it was a good or bad thing. Maybe bringing up childhood wasn’t a great idea in her master seduction plan. She’d better change tactics quickly.

“I’m looking to upgrade that awful futon in Alexa’s apartment. Let me know what you think of this mattress.”

He flinched, then stepped back. “No, I’m not sure what you’re looking for.”

“Oh, come on, there’s plenty of room. I don’t have cooties. Just lay down and let me know if it’s better than your bed at home.”

His brow creased. “How would you know what type of bed I have?”

“I don’t, but you seem a bit pompous about all this luxury so I figured it must be huge. You don’t have one of those awful bachelor bedrooms with zebra patterns and hidden speaker music that impulsively plays Marvin Gaye’s “Let’s Get It On,” do you?”

He drew back in horror. “What do you know about stuff like that? There are so many things wrong with that scenario, I can’t even list them.”

“Good. Guy I was going out with had one of those setups. He shut the door behind him, pressed a button, and this awful song came on to get me in the mood.”

He took a step closer. “I hope you didn’t give him what he wanted. Not with that type of cheap trick.”

She grinned. “Nope, I wasn’t impressed.” She scooted over, moved one of the pillows, and motioned for him to join her. “Just a minute. Tell me what you think.”

“Carina—”

“Forget it. Wouldn’t want you to mess up your suit.”

Her remark hit home. His features tightened like she’d thrown out a dare. Never one to back down from a challenge, he toed off his shoes. She tamped down a giggle when he carefully positioned himself next to her with a huge space between them.

“So, what do you think?”

He sighed. “I can’t believe we’re rating beds. I feel like I’m in a Sleepy’s commercial.”

She bounced up and down. “Firm, yet plenty of give. The sheets definitely have a high thread count. And the pillows are perfect.”

“The pillows suck. Men hate fluffy pillows, they feel like they’re suffocating.”

“Really?”

“Yes. But the mattress is a good thickness. Firm but with enough give for—”

“Sex.”

Every muscle in his body stiffened. Carina held her breath as his head turned. Their gazes locked and she practically shook with the need to climb on top of him, press her mouth over his, and surrender. His pupils dilated and his jaw clenched. She waited. Moved an extra inch closer, making sure her shirt dipped down to expose a hint of cleavage. With deliberate casualness, she cocked her leg sideways and her skirt slid indecently high up her thigh. His delicious scent of aftershave, lemon, and clean soap swarmed her, more heady than any designer cologne on the market.

Tension cranked up a tight notch and buzzed through the air.

She waited.

“I was going to say sleep.”

He rolled to the side, got up, and stared at her with disapproval.

Frustration nipped and the pulsing folds between her legs pissed her off. She pursed her lips in a sulky pout. “Liar,” she whispered.

He moved.

With lightning speed, she found herself flat on her back. One hard knee pressed between her thighs and opened her up. He pinned her wrists over her head in a casual grip, and hovered. Carved lips paused an inch from hers, and those blue eyes shot sparks of fury and fire that set off a crazy, lustful reaction. Her body softened under his command in a need to be dominated and overtaken. All those hidden naughty fantasies sprang to life and out of the dark closet.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, cara.” His voice came out in a silky purr underlaid with pure steel. “Challenge a man in the big league, and you may regret it.”