Page 58 of Claimed At First Sight

Unfortunately, backing out now would make me look like a coward, and my pride won’t allow that. So I sigh dramatically.

Admittedly, somewhere beneath my annoyance, I’m looking forward to it the tiniest bit, which is clearly more than I should.

These next two weeks aren’t going to be boring, will they?

Chapter Eighteen

Mialina

The driver steers us away from the city and takes us deep into the quiet darkness of the wealthy suburbs. All I catch of Chicago itself is a cluster of glittering lights blazing in the distance.

A tragedy, honestly.

“I was hoping you lived closer to the city, Aldo,” I say, watching the skyline disappear behind snow-covered trees. “I wanted to explore Chicago despite these offensive temperatures. Preferably on foot instead of requiring a chauffeur.”

Aldo chuckles from the row in front of us. “You haven’t felt offensive yet. You missed the worst of winter.”

I stare at him in horror. “It gets worse than this?”

He nods, suppressing a smile.

“How are people still alive here?” Sienna murmurs beside me.

“Exactly,” I reply. “The air hurts my face. That can’t be natural.”

“It builds character,” Aldo replies drily.

“I already have character. I’d like circulation instead,” I quip.

That earns me a laugh from him. It’s warm and genuine enough that I almost forget I’m being driven through what looks like the inside of a snow globe.

“I’m glad to be living in Sicily,” I mutter, rubbing my hands together for warmth even though the temperature in the car is pleasant.

Mamma and Aldo share a look. A very long one, the kind that activates every suspicious instinct I possess.

My gaze drops to where their hands are clasped together between the seats, his thumb brushing across her skin.

We only just arrived, and they’re already alarmingly affectionate. And not in the awkward, tentative way of people still figuring each other out. I narrow my eyes at Aldo.

Then his estate comes into view, and my attention snaps forward again.

The mansion rises from the snowy landscape in glowing layers of stone, iron, and warm amber light. Snow blankets the rooftops and hedges, softening the grandeur of the architecture.

It’s enormous, obviously. We grew up with wealth, sprawling grounds, and mafia families who build homes large enough to survive an apocalypse. But this place seems different somehow. Charming. That’s the surprising part.

Most grand estates are cold, designed to remind visitors how powerful the owner is. This doesn’t, or at least not entirely.

Golden light spills from the windows onto the snow. Smoke curls from several chimneys. It feels lived in. Loved, even.

“It’s beautiful,” Sienna says, her eyes wide.

I glance toward Mamma and watch her expression as she takes it all in. And the smile on her face tells me she likes it too.

“You didn’t mention your house looks like the setting of a romantic Christmas movie,” I say to Aldo.

His mouth twitches. “Is that approval?”

“I’m undecided. I need to survive the weather first.”