Page 202 of Claimed At First Sight

My gaze travels upward, searching the ceiling for the dark gleam of a camera lens. I see none. Perhaps Maximo draws the line at installing them inside his home?

Oh, please let him draw that line.

If footage exists of me creeping through his hallway, I’ll have no explanation that doesn’t make me sound either unstable or guilty. Possibly both.

Still, I continue forward, attempting to appear casual in case I’m being recorded. This results in an awkward combination of tiptoeing and pretending I’m taking a relaxed morning stroll through a home I’ve never seen before.

Somehow, I suspect it looks more suspicious than the creeping did.

A pair of double doors stands open at the end of the hallway. Beyond them lies a bedroom that seems unmistakably Maximo’s.

I hover in the doorway as the sound of running water draws my attention to another door on the far side of the room. It’s been left ajar, allowing steam to drift through the narrow opening.

He’s in the shower. Excellent.

That means my reconnaissance mission is complete. I should retreat and find another bathroom.

But knowing Maximo is occupied makes it impossible to resist taking a closer look at his private domain. I venture a few steps inside, making sure I can hear the shower.

A massive four-poster bed dominates the room. Its dark wooden frame is heavy and imposing against the crisp charcoal-and-white bedding. A dark canopy stretches across the top, making the bed into an intimate space despite the enormous room surrounding it.

How many women has Maximo brought in here?

An unpleasant knot forms in my stomach as an image of him lowering another woman onto those charcoal sheets plays out in my mind.

No, Mia!

Who cares who he has slept with or what he has done to the women in this bed?

As I glare at it, I notice something metallic glinting between the folds of the dark canopy. I step closer to get a better look.

A short length of chain is secured to the frame and tucked between the folds of fabric near one of the upper corners, almost entirely concealed. I spot another on the opposite side.

I frown.

Why does Maximo have chains hidden above his bed?

Oh.

My gaze drops to the mattress. Does he restrain the women he brings in here?

He pinned my wrists over my head this morning. If we had been in this room, would he have tied me to the bed?

I wait for the thought to shock me.

It doesn’t.

Should I be alarmed by this?

I liked being held down. More than liked it, if the way my body had responded was anything to go by. His grip had been firm enough that I couldn’t pull free, yet at no point had I wanted him to release me.

My face grows hotter.

I listen for the shower again. It’s still going. Time to get out of here.

I’m about to retreat when another sound reaches me beneath the rush of water.

Was that a groan?