Page 130 of Claimed At First Sight

Rory lets out a bark of laughter.

“Can you make sure there are cameras around to record it? Because that would be entertaining.”

I giggle, my bad mood finally lifting. I’m enjoying this scheming far more than I should.

“You are a terrible influence,” I tell her.

“Thank you.” I hear the smile in her voice. “But you’re just as evil.”

I am.

And if Maximo thinks confiscating one album is enough to stop me, he’s about to be very disappointed.

The worrying part is that I’m already looking forward to seeing his reaction.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Mialina

Everything in Chicago seems to move with purpose. People weave around one another without slowing, conversations disappear beneath traffic, and no one seems inclined to linger.

It’s completely different from Sicily, where life spills into the streets and you can’t go anywhere without stopping to talk to someone. Here, the city simply expects you to keep up.

Ari, Sienna, and I make our way through the crowd bundled in thick coats, hats, and scarves. Patches of old snow still linger along the edges of the street, pushed into stubborn gray mounds by passing traffic.

With Mamma and Aldo gone for their first full day together, we decided to go sightseeing. The girls haven’t seen anything of Chicago yet and were excited for the adventure.

That enthusiasm lasted less than half an hour.

“I can’t feel my face anymore,” Sienna says beside me, shoving her gloved hands deeper into her pockets.

“You said that ten minutes ago and yet you continue speaking,” I point out.

Ari snorts, her attention already elsewhere as she turns in a circle beneath the towering buildings surrounding us. Her eyes are bright despite the cold. Honestly, I think she’d happily freeze solid if it meant exploring somewhere new.

No one here looks twice at us. For once, we’re just three girls walking through the city. Well, three girls and four security guards hovering nearby pretending not to hover.

I’d never admit it out loud, especially not to Maximo, but after what Aldo said the other day about the Irish, I’m kind of glad they’re here.

Ari points toward one of the enormous stone buildings across the street. “Why are some buildings so old-looking and fancy, but then others are glass?”

I follow her gaze. The building in question looks like something from another century, all carved stone and dramatic arches, while directly beside it stands a sleek mirrored tower disappearing into the gray sky.

“Because Chicago has architectural commitment issues,” I say, keeping a straight face.

Ari rolls her eyes. “You made that up.”

“She did,” a deep male voice says from behind me. “Much of the city was rebuilt after the Great Chicago Fire in 1871. Some of the older architectural styles survived, but Chicago also became one of the birthplaces of the modern skyscraper.”

My stomach drops and flips at the same time, which shouldn’t even be physically possible.

Then, thankfully, I remember that I’m beyond annoyed with the man that sinful voice belongs to.

But it seems that being angry and being attracted to someone are not mutually exclusive conditions.

I turn around and find Maximo standing a few feet away. The dark wool coat, black leather gloves, and calm expression make him look as though the cold doesn’t dare touch him.

Beside me, Sienna stills. Not a surprising reaction after yesterday’s encounter.