Page 213 of Claimed At First Sight

I’d dismissed it as his usual arrogant confidence, but he’d said those words knowing exactly what had happened between Aldo and Mamma.

It was all so calculated.

I kick the side of the cream armchair in the corner.

Ouch, that hurt.

Dropping into it, I let my head fall back and stare at the ceiling.

Is this going to become my permanent room now?

I take in the cream walls, the elegant furniture, and the carefully chosen pictures hanging above the dresser.

It doesn’t feel like mine. I don’t think it ever could.

This isn’t our home. It’s Aldo’s.

I know I’m being dramatic. Mamma and Aldo haven’t said yet what will happen next, and I’m already imagining myself trapped in this room until I’m old and gray. Still, the walls seem as though they’ve crept a little closer.

My gaze drops to my boots before traveling up over the leggings and knitted dress Maximo bought for me.

Even my clothes have his fingerprints all over them.

I yank off one boot and hurl it across the room, then send the other flying after it. They hit the carpet with two unsatisfying thuds.

Pushing myself out of the chair, I stomp into the walk-in closet and grab the hem of the dress. The soft wool catches around my shoulders as I wrench it over my head, making me angrier with every second I spend tangled inside it. Once I’m free, I toss it into the hamper.

Next, I pull off the leggings, nearly losing my balance stepping out of them. Wearing only my underwear, I shove hangers aside one after another.

Here I thought I was getting to know him, that perhaps he was finally allowing me to glimpse the man beneath all that control. But how much of that was real?

I pull a sweater from a shelf, then change my mind and stuff it back.

The day in the city, the Sicilian treats, the way he held me through the storm… had any of it been about me? Or was it all an act to make Chicago and a future with him more appealing?

Only a few hours ago, I believed I was safe with him. How laughable is that?

And I kissed him.

He was probably congratulating himself on finally wearing down my resistance to marrying him. Worse, I came up with that idiotic plan to make out with him until I got him out of my system.

Well, perhaps it worked because I’m completely over him now.

Though it wasn’t his kisses that did it. All it took was finally seeing his true colors.

I pull out a navy wool skirt, an ivory blouse, and one of the cardigans I brought from Sicily. They might not suit the dramatic reinvention I’m attempting, but at least they belong to me.

Once I’m dressed, I rake my fingers through my hair and twist it into a loose knot, determined to erase every trace of the hours I spent with Maximo.

If only removing him from my mind were that easy.

Voices from below my window catch my attention, and I march over to peek through the curtains, careful to remain hidden in case it’s Maximo.

I have to lean closer to the glass than I’d like to see properly, and of course, that’s the exact moment the tyrant Chicago Don looks up.

I jerk backward and fold my arms tightly across my chest.

“You donkey… idiot… manipulative bastard.”