Page 185 of Claimed At First Sight

Before answering, Maximo closes the distance between us and gives my upper arm a gentle squeeze.

“It’s all right,” he says, waiting until my eyes meet his. “That’s Leon. I asked him to collect something for me.”

He brushes a loose strand of hair behind my ear, letting his hand linger against my cheek.

“Why don’t you spread the blankets out in front of the fireplace? We may as well make ourselves comfortable.”

I nod, grateful he’s giving me something to do while he disappears from sight again. Keeping my hands busy gives my mind less opportunity to invent another catastrophe.

I kick off my heeled boots and kneel on the thick rug. I unfold one blanket after another, layering them over each other until they cover almost the entire space in front of the fire. Then I raid the sofa, stealing every cushion I can find and arrange them into what can only be described as an oversized nest.

I pause to study my handiwork.

It looks less like the sophisticated penthouse of Chicago’s most feared Mafia Don and more like the setting for an overenthusiastic twelve-year-old’s sleepover.

I rather like it.

Another gust hurls something against the window, and before I even realize what I’m doing, I dive into the middle of my creation and yank a blanket up to my chin.

Is it childish to believe a pile of blankets and cushions offers any protection from an eighty-six-story plunge to my death?

Yes.

Do I care?

No. It makes me feel better, and right now I’ll take whatever comfort I can get.

A moment later, Maximo returns carrying a large shopping bag.

Huh. I wouldn’t have thought there were any shops open. Not only because it’s nighttime, but mostly because of the storm.

He stops beside the sofa, his gaze traveling over the nest I’ve built. I suddenly feel self-conscious.

“I know,” I mumble. “It’s a little…”

“Cozy.”

I blink. That wasn’t what I’d expected him to say.

One corner of his mouth lifts. “You appear to have used every available cushion.”

I glance at the sofa. It’s looking rather naked.

“I may have overcompensated for the impending apocalypse.”

“Well, at least we’ll be warm.” He holds out the bag. “This is for you.”

I glance at it and then back at him. “What’s in it?”

I get up and take it, our fingers brushing.

“Something more comfortable to wear.”

I peek inside. Folded on top is a pair of dark green lounge pants with the tags still attached. Underneath are matching socks and a soft oversized sweater.

“Where on earth did you get these in the middle of a freaking snowstorm?” I ask, staring at the clothes.

I’ve been eyeing Maximo’s sweatpants with envy ever since he walked back into the room.