Marco's Stolen Wife, Book #2

• Switched at the Altar
• Enemies to Lovers
• Boss Romance
• Fake Fiancée Romance

A fierce contest between twins…

One scorching touch between sexy international businessman Marco Dante and gorgeous Dantes CFO, Caitlyn Vaughn and The Inferno explodes. Until Marco’s twin brother, Lazz, parts them, planning to make Caitlyn his own. But he hasn’t counted on The Inferno or Marco’s determination to win his Inferno mate, no matter what.

Posing as his brother, Marco switches identities and sweeps Caitlyn off for a romantic weekend, seducing her first into becoming his wife and then into his bed for a night of passion unlike any other. The weekend is perfect … until a fatal mistake on Marco’s part reveals the truth.

She married the wrong man.

Or did she? Marco claims it’s some bizarre family myth called The Inferno, where soul mates connect with a single touch. But she couldn’t possibly love a man she only met one time, for all of five minutes. How can the lust she feels for a relative stranger far outstrip the chaste relationship she had with his brother? And yet, that’s exactly what’s happened.

Now Caitlyn finds herself married to Marco for better or worse. The better, she finds in his arms and bed. The worse occurs when their marital mix-up is leaked to the press.

Can she find a way to prove both the existence of The Inferno … and that Marco is the only man for her? Or is their relationship doomed if The Inferno is demonstrated to be nothing more than a myth?

Note to Readers: Marco’s Stolen Wife is Book #2 in The Dante Inferno: The Dante Dynasty Series, a contemporary romance series by USA Today bestselling author and eleven-time RITA© (Romance Writers of America) finalist, Day Leclaire. This story features passionate Italian-American heroes, the scorching connection of The Inferno, and a sizzling romance between soul mates.

“Who the hell are you?” Caitlyn demanded.

“Your husband.”

“Don’t treat me like a fool. You’re not Lazz.”

She forced down the surge of hysteria battering to escape. But she couldn’t keep herself from folding in on herself in an attempt to hide her nudity beneath the scant covering of rapidly dissipating bubbles. Though why she bothered after what the two of them had done last night, she couldn’t say.

“Lazz has a scar on his hip. I saw it when we went swimming. You don’t have a scar.”

“No, I don’t. And no, I’m not Lazz.” He slowly rose, water sheeting off him as he stepped from the tub and snagged a towel. “That doesn’t change the fact that I’m your husband.”

It took every ounce of self-control to keep from totally losing it, tremors of fear ripping through her. She felt hideously exposed, and more than a little frightened. She’d married this man—a complete stranger—and didn’t even know his name. She’d made love to him all through the night. Frolicked like a child in a bubble-filled bathtub. But she didn’t have a clue who he was, other than a dead ringer for Lazz.

She fought to apply reason to insanity, to use what little logic and common sense remained at her disposal, while all around her bricks and mortar crumbled. “Since you look exactly like Lazz, I’m assuming you’re related. His brother?” Her brain gave a kick-start. “His twin brother?”

“Yes.”

“Lazz never mentioned a twin,” she stated tightly. “Is this your idea of a joke? Is he in on whatever amusing little scam you’re trying to pull? Or is this all your own idea?”

“This isn’t a joke or a scam. And if you’ll look closely, you’ll see I’m not the least amused. Here.” He ripped another towel off the glass-and-wrought-iron rack and held it out to her. “I suspect you’ll be more comfortable having this conversation if you aren’t naked.”

She struggled to hold tears at bay. “I can’t believe I’m having his conversation at all. I want to know who the hell you are and what sort of hideous game you’re playing.”

Clutching the towel to her breasts, she stood and wrapped the thick length of cotton around herself. Lazz—no, not Lazz—cupped her elbow to steady her as she climbed out of the water. She almost thanked him before catching it back at the last instant.

“Cara—”

She yanked free of his hold. “Don’t. Don’t you dare call me that. Now, who are you?”

“Marco Dante.”

“Marco.” She recognized the name. Hadn’t she heard Britt rhapsodize endlessly over the past six weeks about the “charming” one of the Dante brothers? Why, in the name of everything holy, had her friend neglected to mention that Marco and Lazz were twins? “How did this happen? Why did it happen? Does Lazz know what you’ve pulled?”

He removed a terry cloth robe from the back of the door without answering and handed it over. She didn’t want to appreciate his thoughtfulness. She didn’t want him doing or saying anything that would make her feel kindly disposed toward him. She shrugged on the robe and belted it tightly around her waist before allowing the towel to drop to the floor at her feet.

Lazz—Marco—didn’t bother with a robe but exited into the bedroom with the towel slung carelessly around his waist. She desperately wanted him to cover up, to hide the impressive chest she’d peppered with kisses. To conceal those amazing arms that had held her with such tender strength. To turn from mind-blowing lover back into a normal, average man, despite the fact that there wasn’t, and never would be, anything normal or average about him.

To her relief, once they’d reached the sitting room, Marco gave her some much-needed breathing space.

“First, this is no game,” he began. “And it happened because Lazz gave me no other choice. At least none, given the limited amount of time I had to work with.”

She held up a hand to silence him, wishing she’d chugged that coffee instead of losing it in the bathwater. Spying the coffeemaker and—hallelujah—a half pot of coffee remaining, she crossed the room and poured herself a cup. Then a second. Satisfied that her brain was firing on at least half its cylinders, she faced the man she’d married only hours earlier.

“I need you to explain things, but I need them explained in a way I can understand. So, I’m going to ask the questions and you’re going to answer them, simply and concisely. Got it?”