Page 186 of Claimed At First Sight

“There are several boutiques on the lower retail levels.”

I stare at him.

“But they would be closed.”

“They were.”

“How then?” I ask, though I have a fair idea.

“The building’s management has master keys. Leon contacted the store owners before anything was touched. They’ll be compensated when they reopen.”

I look back into the bag.

“That’s… incredibly thoughtful.”

His expression barely shifts. “This will help make you feel better. Go and get changed.”

My heart does that strange little fluttering thing again.

The only problem is…

Changing means leaving this room… and Maximo. My enthusiasm dampens. But I also need the bathroom.

The thought of wandering through a giant penthouse while the building impersonates a metronome isn’t particularly appealing.

Maximo studies me for all of three seconds before apparently reading my mind.

“I’ll show you.” My eyes snap back to his. “The closest bathroom is only a few steps away.”

I release a slow breath, actually happy for once that he’s so perceptive.

“Okay.”

His hand settles against the middle of my back, the contact somehow making the short walk less intimidating.

Once inside the bathroom, I lock the door, make embarrassingly quick use of the facilities, and swap my clothes for the loungewear in what must be a new personal speed record.

The dark green lounge pants are soft, and the oversized sweater is wonderfully warm. Better yet, they fit perfectly.

Apparently, my self-appointed future husband is remarkably good at estimating my clothing size.

Feeling more comfortable, I step back into the hallway. Maximo is in the living room, placing candles around the fireplace. Somehow, that seems rather domestic.

He’s positioned fully within my line of sight, and I know right away it’s deliberate. He could have been anywhere in this enormous penthouse, yet he chose the one spot I’d see the moment I walked out of the bathroom.

A surprising warmth spreads through my chest.

Not once tonight has he laughed at my fear or dismissed it as irrational. He’s just accepted it, adjusted to it, and found ways to make it easier for me.

I’m not quite sure what to make of this side of him.

His gaze finds mine. “That was quick.”

I shrug, walking toward him. “I’ve never changed clothes with quite so much motivation.”

He chuckles. “I’ll remember that.”

“Oh, please don’t.”