Page 158 of Claimed At First Sight

“I’m acknowledging it.”

His tone remains frustratingly calm, as though he’s explaining something so self-evident it scarcely requires discussion.

“Men and women were not made for the same purpose, Mia. A man builds, protects, and when necessary, fights. A woman creates a home worth returning to. She raises children and keeps her family together.”

“You’ve just described a woman as furniture.”

“I described her as the foundation.”

I narrow my eyes. “You genuinely believe all of that, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“And if one of your daughters decided she wanted to lead your family?”

His expression doesn’t change. “Then I’d consider it my failure as her father.”

“Because she’d be incapable?”

“Because somewhere along the way I failed to convince her that there are burdens no loving father should ever wish his daughter to carry.”

I stare at him. There’s a good chance my mouth is hanging open too.

Usually, if someone says something I disagree with, a dozen arguments spring to mind. I can debate, reason, and point out every flaw in their logic until they either concede or walk away in exasperation.

Right now, though, I’m too stunned to formulate a coherent sentence.

While I have absolutely no ambition to ever lead a mafia family, if one of my daughters wanted that authority one day, who would I be to tell her she couldn’t simply because she’d been born a girl?

How can someone as intelligent as Maximo believe this?

Next he’ll be telling me that women should embroider their husband’s initials onto handkerchiefs.

The thought should make me laugh, but it doesn’t.

Only a few minutes ago I’d been worried that being alone with him in this tiny gondola might lead to yet another almost-kiss. Looking at him now, I can’t imagine anything I’d want to do less.

Good. Perhaps this is exactly what I needed.

Because whatever attraction my traitorous body seems to have developed toward Maximo Marco, it isn’t beyond saving.

All I need is a reminder that beneath the handsome face and those dark eyes lurks someone whose views belong in another century.

I really do need to make out with another man to erase the kiss Maximo seems to have imprinted in my memory.

Preferably soon.

As we’re nearing the bottom of the wheel, I pick up my coat and scarf. I want to get out of here.

“I should have kissed that guy longer,” I mutter to myself as I shrug into my coat, preparing for the wintry assault the moment the doors open.

Maybe it would have worked had I given it a little more time. He was a cute guy after all.

Argh, who am I kidding? It wouldn’t have.

I just need to find someone else. Perhaps Rory can help with that.

“What?”