Page 21 of Claimed At First Sight

“I don’t understand why Father would want an alliance with the Irish, in Chicago of all places. The De Marcos don’t deal with them. Do they?”

I need to find Mateo. If anyone can find out what’s really happening, it’s him. If he had known anything about this, surely he would have warned us.

“No, they don’t,” Maximo says. There’s a gravity in his tone now that’s terrifying. “So it’s anyone’s guess what your father was doing.”

“I don’t believe you.” The words are a shield. I hold them up between us, searching his face for a flicker of a lie, but Maximo gives me nothing.

“Your choice,” he says. His calm is maddening. “But are you willing to take the risk?”

The silence stretches. I stare at him as the implications sink in.

If he’s telling the truth, Father already promised me to a stranger in a city I’ve never seen. And if he isn’t, then Maximo is trying to scare me into agreeing to something that he wants.

I exhale sharply. “There’s another solution, isn’t there?”

“Yes.”

I scoff. I already know. The answer is so obvious it’s insulting.

“Let me guess. Marrying you?”

“Yes.”

The audacity.

“I’m about to take over as Don in Chicago. I need a wife. And I’ve chosen you.”

He delivers the news like he’s offering me a promotion instead of a life sentence.

I’m sure my nostrils are flaring by now, my pulse speeding.

“Excuse me?” My eyes widen. “You’ve chosen me?”

Like I’m something to acquire.

“I have.” He’s utterly unfazed by my anger. “You were raised to be a Mafia wife. You’re young, beautiful, and you will give me the heirs I want.”

I let out a snort. It’s a harsh, unladylike sound that rips through the quiet of the terrace.

Wow, he must think I’m some sort of prize mare whose purpose in life is to provide the next generation of Marcos.

“I will, will I?”

“Yes.”

Amusement edges his voice. I don’t need to see his face to know he’s smiling. He’s never been told no by someone he considers his inferior, has he?

But just because I’m nineteen doesn’t mean I’m a pawn he can move across his board.

If he thinks I will roll over and agree because he’s powerful and considered a good catch in some circles, he’s in for a rude awakening.

I let out a laugh. It’s light and almost sweet. If you didn’t know me, you’d think I was charmed. I’m really, really not.

“Well,” I say, cocking my head to the side and narrowing my eyes as if I’m genuinely considering the merits of his oh-so-generous offer.

“Thank you, Maximo, for so valiantly offering to save me from the big, bad Irish.” I lace each word with as much sarcasm as I can. “But I’ll take my chances with the devil I don’t know.”

I don’t stop there. I want to see if I can crack this Don mask.