Maia felt terrible about the three texts she'd left Dante. She'd come across like a Taylor Swift Stage 5 Clinger. But she had to know why he was avoiding her. As soon as she saw him, she planned to change that. She'd tell him she loved him. Maybe it was wrong to put him on the spot, but she hated being in limbo. Even though she'd not expressed her feelings, he had to know she wouldn't have slept with him without a serious connection. Perhaps that was the reason why he was ghosting her—he didn't feel the same, and he was too much of a coward to come out and say it.

When her phone chimed, and his name appeared, her heart leaped into her throat. She stared at the screen. She must have read the message a dozen times before it sank into her brain. Was this a joke? Surely it had to be. What kind of guy used the 'hey, I'm getting married' excuse? Weren't cheaters always trying to hide the fact they were engaged or married?

Regardless of why he thought it funny, Maia admitted he'd gotten her good. Dante marrying Bea Bennett was the most hilarious thing she'd ever heard. She texted back.

Hilarious.

She tapped in Silbie's number. "Hey, you won't believe the joke Dante just pulled. I sent silly texts last night asking if Bea had him tied up or if she was holding him for ransom. I just got an answer and it's a good one. He said they were getting married. That's the funniest thing I've ever heard."

Silence filled the air. She checked the bars on her phone. All five glowed. "Silbie? Are you there?"

"I was just about to come to your house. See you in a few minutes."

"Oh, okay. Is something wrong?  Oh, God. Is it Owen?"

"No. Uncork some wine. Be there soon."

Maia laid her phone on the kitchen counter and rustled up a couple of glasses and a bottle of Merlot. Something was definitely wrong if Silbie wanted a drink. If it wasn't Owen—then what? Maybe she and her mother were still at odds. If so, Silbie needed to get over it. It was wrong for her mother to keep Owen's situation from her, but she'd had a good reason.

Maia opened the wine and half filled her glass. The first sip exploded across her taste buds. Drinking before noon wasn't her usual routine, but it was Russia somewhere. She hoisted her glass and eyed her phone. Still no reply from Dante.

It wouldn't be wrong to text him again. He'd opened the line of communication.

Jokes aside, where are you?

Her thumbs hovered over the keypad. Should she say something else? Tell him she missed him and wanted to see him? That might be too much. However...

Come for dinner. 7ish?

Great. Now for the menu. She had spaghetti in the pantry, beef in the freezer, and three ripe tomatoes in the fridge. Plenty of ingredients for salad and a dump cake too. She'd save a trip to the store.

The rumbling of an engine drew her attention. She peeped out and hurried to the door and swung it wide. "I started without you." She toasted the air, swallowed the bit of wine, and smacked. "Want a glass?"

Silbie shook her head.

"Okay. How about a soda?" She swept away toward the kitchen. "That's odd. You suggested it, and from your somber tone, I thought you must need a drink." She stuck her head inside the fridge, grabbed a can of Diet Dr Pepper and offered it to Silbie. "Still mad at your mom?"

Silbie shook her head again.

Maia tried reading her expression. Worry? Embarrassment? Sympathy? "What's wrong? Logan got your tongue?" Maia laughed.

Another head shake.

"Have the tabloids come up with some awful story about you and Logan? Let me guess. They say you're having his baby. No, twins! Now that we know that runs in the family," Maia slid the soda across the counter, refilled her glass, and waved her hand in the air as if swatting a mosquito. "Don't worry about it. That's about as ridiculous as Dante marrying Bea."

Silbie took a deep breath. "I have terrible news."

"I know. I can tell from the way you're acting like you've got a horrible wedgie. So, just spit it out. No! Wait!" She turned her glass up and emptied it in one long gulp. "Okay, now I'm ready." She pressed her hand to her chest. "No! Wait! I'm not ready. This is bad. I can tell it's really bad. Maybe we should sit down." She motioned to the sofa, then poured more wine, and followed Silbie into the living room.

Maia swallowed one last drink, then set her glass on the coffee table. "Tell me—no, wait. Is it the twins? Is there something wrong with them?"

Silbie reached for Maia's hand. "It's Dante."

Maia cocked her head. "What about him?"

"His text isn't a joke."

Dante should have known his abbreviated message wouldn't be enough for Silbie or Dad. They'd blown up his phone, and Silbie pressed hard for a logical answer. He explained his plan to use Bea's money and contacts to find Owen. He made it sound as if the marriage was his idea.

Once he threw in his brother's name, Silbie simmered down, but not before she reamed him out for breaking Maia's heart. He deserved the tongue lashing—and more. She even gave him a title. He wasn't sure what an eight-bit fucknugget was, but he felt like it.

Today would go down in history as the most eventful day of his life. With a five-dollar investment, he won a ton of money. He drove the only love interest he'd had in years to hate him. And—he married a dying woman. Damn. What a book he could write.

With so many thoughts rolling in his brain, he didn't remember speaking most of his vows. But when he came to till death do us part, Bea wobbled, and he snapped from his trance. He slid an arm around her waist for support. She lost all color and for a moment, he thought she might call off the whole thing. Instead, she drew a staggering breath and pulled herself together.

Dante relaxed back in his chair and spun the ring on his finger. Soon, she would come out of the bathroom, and he had a decision to make. Sex or not. Since there was no mention of it in the agreement, she didn't expect it. Hell, for all he knew, she didn't want it. Not exactly true. He was pretty good at reading people, especially women, and the lingering looks she'd given when she thought he wasn't paying attention, and the kiss they'd shared at the ceremony, proved she was interested.

As she slipped out of her wedding clothes, he took the liberty of moving his luggage into the master suite. Whether they had sex or not, he planned to sleep with her. Mainly because of her illness. He wasn't sure what symptoms she'd have, but he wanted to be nearby just in case something happened.

Bea was halfway across the room before Dante caught her attention. When he did, she gasped and pressed her hand to her chest. "Oh, my Lord! You scared me."

The scent of her perfume gave him a heady rush not to mention the pale pink satin gown caressing every curve of her body. "You better get used to having a husband again."

She eyed the suitcase resting on the luggage stand. "You moved your things. Is there something wrong with the other room?"

He stood and in two short strides had her in his arms. "Thought I'd sleep with you." He brushed his lips across her temple and down her cheek. "Unless you don't want me here."

"That isn't part of the agreement."

He stepped back and gazed down at her. "You don't want me here?" he asked again.

"I didn't say that. I just don't want you to feel obligated. You'll get the money either way."

"So—you do want to sleep with me."

She rested her forehead against his chest and sighed. When she shivered, he placed his fingers under her chin and turned her face up so he could look into her eyes where tears shimmered. The urge to comfort her overwhelmed him. He pulled her tight against him.

"Maybe this was a mistake," she whispered.

Her chest rose and fell in heavy breaths, and he couldn't bear the thought of what she must be feeling. He pushed away, lowered his head and covered her lips with his. At first, she saddened, then surrendered to the kiss. He slid his hands to her hips and pressed her closer.

She jerked away. "What are you doing?"

He grinned. "It really has been a long time for you. That's called foreplay. It's what you do before—"

"Hush! I know what foreplay is." She shook her head. "Do you always sleep in just your boxers?"

His smile widened. "Actually, I usually go commando. After being cooped up all day, the boys need to breathe."

"Please don't tease me." She lowered her head. "I already feel self-conscious enough."

"Don't." He lifted her chin again. "Regardless of our agreement or age difference, I'm attracted to you. This isn't out of obligation. You're a desirable woman, Bea." He took her mouth again and this time, her tension eased. Now her hands roamed over him with unspoken need, and he returned the favor. It had been a while for him too, and he was horny as hell. He broke the kiss and stared down at her. "Just one question. Anything I need to know before we get down to business?"

"Like if I'm a brittle old woman?"

"No, that's not—"

She pressed her fingers to his lips. "I know what you meant. It may take me longer to climax than the twenty-somethings you're used to so you may have to work harder."

He chuckled. "Good thing I've never been afraid of hard work."

The next morning, when Dante woke, it took him a few seconds to figure out where he was and who had their arm draped over his waist. Once he did, he smiled. His new wife was anything but brittle. Henry Bennett had been a fool.

Dante eased away and slid to the edge of the bed.

Bea reached for him. "Stay."

He spoke over his shoulder. "Sorry, babe, but you've worn me out."

She sat up, brought her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. "Oh. Sorry."

Flipping over, he pulled her down next to him. "I like that you want me—every fifteen minutes."

She struggled to get free. "That's an exaggeration."

He belly laughed. "Not by much."

"You're awful."

"Apparently, awful good."

She shoved away from him. "Why do you torment me?"

"Because I like seeing you all riled up. It's sexy."

"Oh."

"What? No harsh retort?"

Crossing her arms, the V of her gown dipped lower and the pink satin molded to her breasts. A zing of arousal landed between his legs. Damn. What was it about this woman that excited him so much? Her money? Power? Or the fact he could turn her into a sex machine? Probably all three.

"It's a little difficult to fuss at you when you say things like that. I'm starving. What do you want for breakfast?" She slid out of bed.

"I usually have a protein shake. What are you having?"

"Pancakes smothered in syrup, pecans, and whipped cream with a side of bacon. Oh, and hash browns." She gazed into the distance as if daydreaming.

He cocked a brow. "You always eat like that?"

She snapped from her trance. "God, no. I haven't had a carb since the Clinton administration, but starting today I'm beginning a journey of self-gratification. You know what they say. Eat right. Exercise. Die anyway. Which reminds me, I'm getting rid of my personal trainer unless you want to use him."

"Sure. And just so you know, pretty sure you started that journey last night."

Poor Maia, she deserves better.

TEASER: "Is that any way to greet your favorite leading man?"