Page 173 of Claimed At First Sight

I want to be somewhere else. Somewhere my father’s plans don’t stare me in the face.

“No.”

I look back at him.

“No?” Even to my ears my voice carries an edge of apprehension. I hate it.

I’m not usually that easily intimidated. Then again, I’ve never come this close to the people who might believe they have some claim over the rest of my life.

Maximo must see my unease because he puts down his fork and reaches across the table, covering my hand with his. The simple pressure of his hand steadies me, and the knot in my stomach eases.

“They won’t do anything.”

God, I wish I had his confidence right now.

“How can you know that?”

“Because you’re with me.”

I search his face for a hint of uncertainty, but of course I don’t find it.

Some of the tension eases from my shoulders, but not enough to make the reality of the Donnellys any less daunting. My gaze drifts toward their table again.

“Ignore them,” Maximo says after a beat, a hint of command slipping into his voice. “Focus on me. I’m your dinner date, no one else.”

It has the desired effect. My eyes snap back to his. But only because his tone rubs me the wrong way.

I pull my hand from beneath his, making him chuckle.

“There you are,” he says, satisfaction warming his voice. “Good to have you back, little rebel.”

Instead of answering, I spear a piece of asparagus with perhaps a touch more enthusiasm than necessary and glare at him. There isn’t much conviction behind it.

He’s right. The less attention I give the Donnellys, the less power I hand them.

Today with Maximo has been… unexpected.

If I pretend that kiss never happened, spending time with him wasn’t actually that painful. Between wandering through Little Italy, the Ferris wheel, seeing Chicago lit up beneath the falling snow, and now dinner, I’d caught glimpses of a man I hadn’t expected to find beneath the title of Don.

That realization is almost as unsettling as the Irish sitting a few tables away.

I resist the temptation to glance back toward the Donnellys. For the first time, I understand why Maximo is so insistent about security. Here, my name means something to people who have never even met me.

Wait a minute.

I narrow my eyes. “Did you arrange this?”

One dark eyebrow rises. “Arrange what?”

“The dramatic visual aid.” I gesture toward the Irish table. “You brought me to dinner. They’re sitting over there. I discover they’re the people Father intended to marry me off to. Conveniently, it makes you look like the far better option.”

A sudden sparkle enters Maximo’s eyes, and it takes me a second to realize what I’ve just admitted. My cheeks turn crimson while a grin slowly appears on his face.

“You think I orchestrated an encounter with one of the most powerful criminal families in North America solely to improve my standing?”

“It sounds like something you’d do.”

That earns an actual laugh.