Page 54 of Claimed At First Sight

Staff move efficiently through the foyer carrying floral arrangements and event supplies. Voices drift through the lower floor, while somewhere deeper in the house, the kitchen has been operating since morning.

Belinda, who coordinates all our social events, crosses the foyer carrying a tablet, issuing instructions without breaking stride while several members of staff hurry to keep pace.

Tonight will run flawlessly. She’ll make certain of it.

Eventually, Mia will be the one making the final decisions for gatherings like this one, and Belinda will simply carry them out.

I cross the foyer and take the main staircase to the second floor. The farther I climb, the quieter the mansion becomes. By the time I reach my private wing, only distant traces of activity remain.

I stop beside the large terrace window overlooking the snow-covered grounds.

Caterina Accardi and her daughters are somewhere over the Atlantic.

Soon, Mia will be here.

Anticipation settles beneath my skin, steady enough to be irritating.

Weeks apart should have diminished my interest, but if anything, distance has made it worse.

Even the unopened gifts that keep turning up at my office amuse me more than they should.

Most women in Mia’s position would have understood my intentions from the beginning. They would have adjusted to them by now, accepted where this is heading.

Mia fights me at every opportunity. I enjoy that more than I expected to.

Of course I want obedience in a wife, but not mindless compliance. I could have that from countless women.

Nothing with Mia comes easily, which means nothing from her is meaningless either.

A notification lights up my phone.

Aircraft entering U.S. airspace.

My thumb stills against the screen, a smile pulling at my mouth.

She’s close now.

I slide the phone back into my pocket and notice the blood on my cuff again. The man responsible for it won’t be making the same mistake twice.

I head toward the dressing room, loosening my cuffs as I go. Rows of tailored suits line one side of the wardrobe in perfect order.

The opposite side remains partially empty, ready for Mia’s clothes. Most men would probably consider that presumptuous. I consider it practical.

Mialina Accardi is going to end up here. The only uncertainty is how long she intends to fight me first.

And she will fight. I expect nothing less. Especially once she realizes Chicago gives her far fewer opportunities to avoid me.

My hand pauses over a dark jacket as the memory of our kiss surfaces again.

Her breath catching beneath mine. The heat in her eyes. The brief moment she melted against me before pulling away.

She ran afterward and spent the rest of my time in Sicily avoiding me. A woman who felt nothing wouldn’t have gone to that much trouble.

Another message appears across my screen.

Aldo: Departing for the airport.

Good.