Married to Trouble
Carmen Falcone
After Glows Publishing
Copyright © 2017 by Carmen Falcone
Published by After Glows Publishing
PO Box 224
Middleburg, FL 32050
AfterGlowsPublishing.com
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Cover by AG Design & Formatting
Formatting by AG Design & Formatting
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Contents
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
About the Author
Note from the Publisher
Married to Trouble
All Beck Anderson needs to make partner at his law firm is to drive Clarissa Garubo from New York to Vegas. He’ll prove to everyone—including himself—he can make it on his own, without his father’s influence. Waking up married to an Italian mob heiress was not part of the plan. Neither is the explosive heat that flares between them every time they’re together.
Clarissa has long yearned for freedom, and her quickie wedding to Beck will fit the bill. Her father will see her in a new, mature light and she’ll be able to take over her late mother’s business interests. This marriage was supposed to be a means to an end for both of them, but love might just take this deal legit
1
“Rise and shine, Hubby.”
Beck Anderson rubbed his eyes. The melodious female voice seemed to come from close to him, but as he turned around in the bed, he couldn’t recognize it. His throat felt dry, and migraine hammered his temples, trying to crawl out from the inside of his skull. When was the last time he’d had a hangover?
Hangover. He swallowed, tasting sourness in his mouth.
Beck cleared his throat, and opened his eyes.
A red-haired beauty sat at his side of the bed with a smile on her face.
Clarissa Garubo. A hot sensation moved through him, a throbbing much different than the one from the migraine. He willed it away, remembering the weight of her surname. Entertaining fantasies involving Clarissa would not only keep him from his reaching his goal, but also possibly cut some of his body parts if her father ever found out.
His heart thrummed in his chest. Flashes from the previous night danced in his mind, the images too blurry. Abruptly, he sat on the bed against the frame and assessed his surroundings.
Gold accented furniture and extravagant interior design surrounded him. Vegas. The trip he’d made all the way from New York in a fucking car because he’d wanted to nail the Garubo account. Yet, as he faced Garubo’s daughter, looking lovely in a fluffy robe, he hoped the account was the only thing he nailed.
She chewed on her lower lip, her big hazel eyes studying him. “I decided to let you sleep for a few more hours. You really looked exhausted,” she said, and didn’t move away from him.
Beck glanced down his sheet. Shit. He was naked. “Clarissa…” he started, then let out a breath. “You and I…” He cleared his throat.
“What? You don’t remember?” She frowned. “We got married last night.”
“Married?” he repeated slowly, as if he pronounced a foreign word. The vague recollection of them laughing while waiting in front of a chapel stabbed at him. He swallowed again. Hard.
“You don’t remember anything?” she leaned closer. “I told you I was virgin, and you said we should do it the right away and get married before having sex.”
Beck rubbed his forehead. “And did we?”
“Get married?”
“Have sex,” he said.
She shook her head. “At the end of the night, we were exhausted and just tumbled into bed.”
A wave of relief washed through him. He let out a sigh. “There’s a way out of this. We got married. We were both drunk. We can ask for an annulment.”
She shrugged. “Hhhmmm… I guess,” she said, a pang of what sounded like disappointment in her voice.
“You guess? I’m a lawyer. Of course we can get an annulment. Our marriage hasn’t been consummated.”
She angled closer, and he caught a whiff of her delicious smell, a blend of wild flowers and warm vanilla. “You wanted to.”
No shit. During their three day drive, he’d done his best to keep from touching her. A few unintended brushes had sent electrifying thrills through him. Clarissa had an infectious laugher, huge hazel eyes that socked the air from any man’s lungs. From his lungs. But he knew better than to mess with a mobster’s daughter. “I’m sorry.”
“You said some pretty dirty things to me in the elevator.”
His cock jutted out. Cold sweat slicked his forehead. I’ll never drink so much again. Snippets of him whispering into her ear flashed in his mind, but he willed them away. His DNA obviously didn’t help, so he had to make a conscious effort to walk the line and stay as far from the image of his womanizer, cold-hearted father as possible. “Nevertheless…”
She tilted her head in the direction of his cock. “It seems like you feel dirty now, too. Are you sure you don’t want to have a one day honeymoon?”
One day honeymoon. Sweat slicked his forehead. Holy shit. “We can’t.” What part of annulment didn’t she understand?
“Why not?” She ran her hand down his chest. “We’re married. I won’t tell anyone if you don’t… we can still ask for an annulment afterwards. This is just for fun. We got married so you could screw me. Why not take advantage of it?”
Her touch warmed his skin. He curled his fists, desperate to find within him the strength to push her away. After all, why deprive himself from a little fun? He’d have to do the paperwork to get their wicked marriage annulled… why not make it worthwhile?
“Let me at least give you a parting gift,” she said, and pulled the sheet off of him.
Damnit. His cock pulsed, and she slid it into her mouth. “Clarissa…”
She licked the underside, causing his veins to throb for more. And she’d said she was a virgin? For someone without experience between the sheets, she sure knew how to burn them. “What? You want me to stop?” she asked, feigning innocence.
“No.” he hissed out. “Don’t you dare stop. And take off your robe while you suck me.”
Clarissa smiled, then she tried to fit that huge, gorgeous cock in her mouth. She’d made the phone call to her father’s assistant quickly before she woke Beck. Francesco should be here soon—and she hoped he wouldn’t catch her sucking a man. Though it would make her case a lot easier.
If she wanted to make this marriage semi-permanent, she needed for the information to leak. And what better way than have her father’s eyes and ears walk in on them?
Beck groaned.
She squeezed his tight, full balls. God. Beck’ll hate me if he finds out. She’d never deceived anyone in her entire life, and had to w
atch her share of movies with femme fatale leads to pull this off. Unfortunately, she had no other choice.
If she were married, her father would consider her worthy of being involved in the family business. For an uber old-fashioned man like Antonio Garubo, a married woman was more respectable. And she wouldn’t be married to just anyone—her husband would deal with his account. Represent his interests.
For the past ten years, ever since her mother’s fatal heart attack, Garubo had sent Clarissa to live with her aunt in upstate New York. Aunt Aurora had been a bitter lady who spent too much time at church and almost no time enjoying life. When she’d decided to move into assisted living, she contacted Clarissa’s father.
Clarissa could have stayed in New York, maybe moved to the city, and started out on her own. However, if she cut her father from her life completely, she’d never have access to the business that was rightly hers. She didn’t want just to cash fat checks—she wanted an input in her mother’s legacy, her cherished jewelry business, and help keep it.
“Clarissa…” he said, bringing her back to reality.
She slid her tongue up and down his smooth skin, reveling in the way he grew bigger under her caress. Beck… what a specimen. Sleeping next to him wouldn’t be such a sacrifice. The man’s muscular body and flawless olive skin was an invitation for naughtiness. She had no clue if actually having sex would be as easy as oral sex, but hey, she’d give it a go.
“God. You’re so hot. Take off your robe, beautiful,” he said.
His words shot a hot throb in her core. She moaned, and wished she had more time to revel in the most intimacy she’d ever shared with a man. Too bad it’d be so quick. She doubted he’d ever want anything to do with her after he found out the truth.
She squeezed his balls, just like she’d seen in a movie.
A loud bang startled her, and she jumped from the bed, completely disengaging from him.
“What is this?” she heard her father’s powerful voice.
Clarissa turned to find Francesco gesticulating frantically behind her father. Papa had never looked angrier or more intimidating—his six-foot height seemed to duplicate, his stocky frame occupying her field of vision. His nostrils flared, and fury flickered in his matte black eyes. “Papa,” she said, gasping.
“You,” he said, walking up to Beck. “I trusted you to bring my daughter home, safe and sound. I thought you’d keep your word because you wanted partnership. Or do you think I’m an idiot and don’t know your agenda? He fumed, and launched onto the bed. Francesco followed suit, shouting in Italian for him to stop.
“Papa, stop,” she screamed.
Beck could physically take her father down, but he was naked, besides, he probably didn’t want to die. Swiftly, Beck slid out of the bed before her father reached to him, and wrapped the sheet around his waist. “Mr. Garubo, let’s talk.”
“Talk? You’re finished. If you think you can make partner, you’re wrong. I’ll make sure you can’t represent an old hooker in court.”
“Mr. Garubo, there’s no need for threats. I can explain everything,” he said.
“Explain? How you convinced my sweet, innocent daughter to do all this… filth with you? You’re lucky she’s not a minor, you bastard. Otherwise I’d kill you.”
“Mr. Garubo, you need to back off,” Beck said, no, demanded. She didn’t detect any trace of fear in his voice, which was worrisome. Did Beck know he could take down her father, but not his bodyguards probably waiting outside?
“Back off?” her father snarled, and as if reading his cue, two of his bodyguards, two threatening and burly men, entered the room.
She knotted the belt around her waist tighter. Shit. Maybe her plan would end up in blood.
“This is what you get for taking advantage of my daughter,” Antonio said, and with a swirl of his fingers, one man threw a punch on Beck. Beck quickly reacted, and clocked the guy, but the other muscle head hit his stomach. He didn’t have a chance.
Her heart raced. “Stop,” she shouted, and before they could stop her, ran to Beck’s side. “He’s my husband,” she said, her breath coming in small gasps. “We got married last night.”
2
Husband. The word rang in Beck’s ear like an old church bell. He wished he had on more clothes to punch those two oversize Shreks around him. The sheet had slid when he’d fought back the first time.
Though now, the surprise in Garubo’s face surpassed any previous shock. Shit. Why the hell did he listen to his dick and let her lick him? If he hadn’t, at least they would have been in more appropriate when her father barged in. Think about the account. Partnership.
“Yes, we got married last night, but it was a mistake,” he said. His father was probably right. He usually sabotaged himself whenever he was close to getting what he wanted. He’d done so by getting cozy with the boss’s daughter before taking her to him. And he’d just done it again, by calling their marriage a mistake. Shit, he couldn’t just go along with it though. He’d explain—
“Mistake?” Garubo stepped forward, his eyes narrowing and the creases on his face tightening. “You married a third generation Garubo and you’re calling it a mistake? Do you have any idea how insulting and ungrateful you are?” he asked, and before he moved, the two men held him each in one arm.
He’d offended New York’s most traditional Italian mobster. He should have known, as his previous brief yet fruitful experience representing the Espositos, another traditional mafia family, had taught him those people were loyal. They were loyal to their business partners, if they found them trustworthy and profitable. More than anything, they were loyal to their own. Kiss partnership good-bye.
Beck swallowed.
Clarissa nudged her father’s elbow. “I agree. It was wrong to get married without your presence, Papa. Beck feels bad about it, too. Everything was so fast, and we fell madly in love in such a short time. We didn’t want to wait,” she said sweetly.
His gaze collided with hers. She lifted her eyebrow, widened her eyes as if to send a secret message to him. Telling him to go along.
“It’s true,” he said at last.
Garubo made a hand gesture, and the two men let go of him. Clarissa promptly handed him the sheet, which he wrapped around his waist again. He had enough experience reading a jury to know what Garubo’s reaction would be…. If he told Garubo he planned on filing for annulment, the man would chop his nuts off. He needed time, to think—and for Garubo to cool down. Another conversation, later that night would do it. Without bodyguards. And with clothes.
“I can’t consider this a real marriage if it’s not done right. In the same church I got married in New York, with all our families and friends.”
Beck cleared his throat. Garubo, the money laundering mobster wanted his daughter to have a traditional wedding? “I understand, sir,” Beck said, making himself a note to bring this up later.
Garubo curled his lips, and said, “Now, go get properly dressed. I’ll wait at the lobby, and we can all go out for lunch. There’s a lot to talk about.”
“Sounds good, Papa,” Clarissa said, then ushered them out the door.
When she returned, an expression of relief washed over her face. “Phew. That was close.”
Close? “I don’t understand why you’re so calm. Your father believes this is a real marriage,” he said, then ran his hand down his face. Clarissa was young and naïve, and he shouldn’t have to be a dick to her. “Look, later tonight I’ll talk to your father and explain. He has to understand. We barely know each other.”
She shrugged. “My father married my mother after a week. I don’t think he cares much for timeframes.”
“Nevertheless… I was drunk. We were both drunk,” he added.
“I’m not twenty-one. So you may have to leave the underage drinking bit out.”
“How old are you?” he said. She looked adorably young, but the women he dated did all kinds of treatments. During their trips, he’d preferred to keep the topi
cs of conversation as impersonal as possible. They discussed music, politics and current events.
“Nineteen.”
Fuck. So now, not only had he married a mobster’s daughter and jeopardized his potential partnership at the office, he’d also given alcohol to a teenager. “Nineteen!”
“I’m an old nineteen, if that helps.”
He could have laughed if the situation wasn’t so freaking crazy. God. He almost wished he could drink himself out of reality, but alcohol had put him in this predicament in the first place. If he had kept his super professional behavior, he’d have dropped her off and called Garubo. But no, he had to agree to show her around, eat together.
“It doesn’t help. Listen, Clarissa, we have to find a way to make your father understand. We can’t stay married against our will. This is the twenty-first century.”
“Hear me out. You want my father’s business, right?”
He nodded.
“Well, there’s no way in hell you’ll get it if you divorce me or annul. My father is very old-fashioned, and he’ll take it as an insult,” she said steadily. “I’m afraid to say, Papa can be unpredictable, so God knows what else can he would do to you.”
He understood her point of view. For an old timer like Garubo, a quickie divorce meant his daughter, and by extension his family, weren’t good enough for him. “What do you suggest?”
She sat on the chair, crossing one leg over the other. “Well, why don’t we stay married for, say, six months to a year? This way, by the time we get divorced, Papa will know we rushed into it, but we really gave it a try. And I’ll say it’s my call. I can be the bad guy because I’m his daughter.”
“Why can’t you be the bad guy now?”
Married to Trouble Page 1