Page 20 of Claimed At First Sight

Competition.

The word makes my skin crawl. He’s talking about me like I’m territory to be claimed.

I lift my chin, fixing him with a look that I hope conveys a strength I don’t currently feel. I need him to think I’m as untouchable as I was an hour ago.

“You’re lying.” My voice is sharper now, edged with the need to be right. “It wasn’t my turn. Father told us he was arranging Isabella’s marriage.”

“Yet, there’s no indication he talked to anyone about your oldest sister.”

How did he come by all this information?

Is he making this up to further his own agenda?

“And pray tell,” I say, aiming for a nonchalant tone and probably failing, “who exactly was my late father arranging my nuptials with?”

“Shay Donnelly.”

I blink, my mind racing through the lists of names Father used to mutter over his late-night grappa.

Donnelly. It’s not a name from our circle.

“That name sounds Irish. Why would my father have anything to do with the Irish?”

Maximo moves a fraction closer. I can feel the heat from him, a sharp contrast to the cold dread pooling in my stomach.

“For an alliance of sorts, obviously,” he replies.

He sounds almost bored by the revelation he is dropping in my lap.

“Shay Donnelly. Thirty-five, I believe. Unfortunately, I know him well. He’s operating on my turf. He’s the heir to the Blackthorn Syndicate in Chicago.”

Thirty-five. He’s almost antique.

“Chicago?” I cut in. “That doesn’t add up. It’s half a world away.”

Maximo only shrugs. It makes my skin prickle.

“Even so, the contract is signed.”

My fingers curl into fists at my sides.

Contract.

Signed.

My spine stiffens. The freedom Mateo and Mamma promised, the choice I thought I finally had… can Father take that from me even now?

“So you see, Mialina,” he continues.

He uses my full name deliberately, his voice dropping an octave, turning it into something heavy and official.

“They might very well come knocking on your door, expecting you to fulfill your end of the bargain.”

“I didn’t sign anything,” I say, trying to find the defiance that usually comes so easily. “And with Father dead, surely that contract is null and void.”

“No, that’s not how these things work.”

I’m acutely aware of Isabella edging closer to the doorway. She’s hearing this too.