Page 22 of Claimed At First Sight

“And honestly?” My smile stretches, razor-sharp and cold. “I’d sooner chain myself to an Irish warlord than sign up for a lifetime of micromanagement from you. I imagine your ideal wife doesn’t speak unless spoken to, smiles on command, and produces heirs on a schedule. Sorry, but I don’t do obedience.”

Maximo chuckles. He sounds unbothered, as if I had just complimented the cut of his suit instead of handing him his ego on a silver platter.

“We’ll see about that.” His voice is scarily confident.

He steps a fraction closer. “I do enjoy a challenge.”

My spine straightens. God, I want to hit him, or perhaps just scream. But I won’t show him he’s rattled me.

“Oh, good. You’re in for the time of your life then.”

Maximo just smiles. It’s not cocky, but worse. It’s certain. He looks at me like the outcome is already decided.

I let out a disgusted huff, spin on my heel, and storm back into the ballroom. Isa rushes to my side, struggling to keep up with my pace.

We navigate the crowd until we reach the library. Thank God, it’s empty. The quiet helps my frayed nerves.

I sink into the sofa with a frustrated sigh. Once I sit down, everything from the last ten minutes catches up with me. Isa settles next to me, close enough that our arms touch.

“You okay?” she asks softly.

I pull a face instead of answering. The bravado drains out of me, leaving nothing but the cold realization that my father’s death didn’t actually set me free.

“You wouldn’t seriously rather marry into the Irish mob, would you?” Isa asks. She’s trying to keep it light, but I can hear the worry in her voice.

I look at my hands, which are still trembling.

“If Maximo was telling the truth, I’m counting on Mateo to put an end to that contract.” I pause, uncertainty weighing on me. “He would do that, right?”

“Of course he would.”

Isa loops her arm through mine, her familiar warmth grounding me.

“Mateo loves Mariella. He cares for all of us. He mustn’t know about this. He’d never stay quiet otherwise.”

“But how did Maximo find out?” I frown at the shelves as if the books there might hold the answer.

Isa shakes her head. “He seems to have access to things he really shouldn’t.”

“Arrogant asshole,” I mutter. “He’s the last man on earth I’d ever marry.”

I speak with conviction, but my hands stay clenched, and I find I can’t quite meet my sister’s eyes.

Isa bumps my shoulder. “Even after he so gallantly offered to save you from the Leprechauns?”

I groan and screw up my nose, the image of Maximo as a savior making my stomach turn.

“Ugh. Save me? He wants to own me.”

“Well, good luck to him.” Isa grins. I see the mischief returning to her expression. “He clearly doesn’t understand that taming you would be like trying to put a leash on a hurricane.”

I laugh genuinely this time, some of the tension finally easing.

“Good thing he’s leaving soon. Then I can forget he ever existed,” I mutter.

Though I have a feeling this isn’t over. Maximo Marco didn’t look like a man who was planning on being forgotten.

I push up from the sofa, the need to move overriding my tiredness.