Page 180 of Claimed At First Sight

A few minutes later, they return and give us the all-clear.

“We’ll be in the security suite if you need anything, sir,” Leon says, before departing through a side door with his men.

For the first time today, Mia and I are genuinely alone. She seems to realize it too, her posture stiffening.

She releases a measured breath, as though steadying herself, then slowly takes in the foyer and the apartment beyond.

“Come on.” I guide Mia forward with a light touch at her waist. “Since the storm has altered our plans, would you like the tour I intended to give you another day?”

She looks back at me, arching one eyebrow.

“Do all your stranded dinner guests get the grand tour?”

The corner of my mouth lifts.

“Only the ones I intend to marry.”

For a heartbeat, she simply stares at me before muttering something under her breath that sounds suspiciously like, “Delusional as ever.”

I pretend not to hear it.

Time will prove otherwise. I don’t argue with inevitability.

Mia steps into the apartment and pauses, her eyes traveling slowly across the room.

I’ve lived here long enough that I rarely notice the soaring ceilings, the walls of glass framing the city, the warm oak floors leading to the grand fireplace, or the artwork and books collected over the years. Somewhere along the way, it simply became home.

Tonight, though, I find myself looking at it through Mia’s eyes, wondering what she’ll notice first.

She moves ahead at an unhurried pace, taking in one detail after another. Her fingertips trail lightly over the back of one of the sofas before she pauses beside the fireplace, studying the flames.

“This isn’t what I expected.”

“No?”

She shakes her head.

“I thought there’d be… more marble.”

A quiet chuckle escapes me.

“Everyone does.”

She smiles to herself before continuing farther into the room.

It isn’t the artwork or the furniture that eventually captures her attention. It’s the windows.

Floor-to-ceiling glass stretches across the entire western side of the penthouse, offering an uninterrupted view of the storm.

She walks toward it almost absently, staring out into the mayhem. Then her attention shifts downward.

“We’re…” she pauses. “We’re really quite high up.”

Her shoulders have lost their easy looseness, and although she hasn’t taken a single step back from the glass, every muscle in her body appears just a little too still.

She hadn’t seemed bothered by the Ferris wheel. Then again, this is considerably higher.

“Are you afraid of heights?”