Page 79 of Claimed At First Sight

I straighten on the sofa as he approaches, aware of the blankets wrapped around me, the firelight warming my cheeks, and the way I’m sitting among his flowers like I already belong in this place.

Maximo reaches the seating area and lowers himself into the spot Rory vacated opposite me. The enormous conservatory seems far too small now.

Silence stretches between us.

His gaze drifts over me slowly enough to make heat crawl up my neck. It’s like he’s taking in every detail he missed while an entire ballroom stood between us earlier.

Butterflies burst awake inside me. Their timing really is unfortunate.

Still, neither of us speaks.

Men like Maximo use silence the same way other people use weapons. My father did it too during negotiations.

He let the quiet build until people became so desperate to fill it they started surrendering information without realizing it.

It’s all about pressure and control. An invisible power game.

And I can play it too.

Refusing to break eye contact, I lift my teacup to my lips, aware of his eyes following the movement.

My fingers are rather unsteady, and I will them not to tremble as I sink against the cushions, deliberately making myself comfortable as I take a sip.

The warmth sliding down my throat steadies me somewhat. Across from me, Maximo smiles, firelight glinting in his dark eyes.

“How do you like your greenhouse?” he asks, breaking the silence, his deep voice low and warm as it settles over me.

My greenhouse.

I didn’t expect him to confirm it. Any other man would have denied it or pretended the timing was a coincidence.

But not Maximo Marco.

I take another sip of tea, letting the truth sink in.

Wow. He really did build this for me.

Talk about grand gestures. I’ve never had anyone go to these lengths before.

Something hard and stubborn melts inside me.

For a moment, I’m not sure what to do with that. I don’t want to admit to him how much I already love this place, or that it’s the most beautiful space I’ve ever stepped foot in.

“You built this after Sicily,” I say instead of answering his question.

Maximo watches me from the other sofa. “Yes.”

Just… yes?

Like building this enormous glass house for me requires no explanation at all.

“Why?”

His gaze drifts over the conservatory before returning to me, taking in the flowers climbing toward the towering glass ceiling.

He shrugs, a faint smile touching his lips.

“You like flowers.”