Page 168 of Claimed At First Sight

This could be considered a little romantic if it weren’t for the wall of heavily armed men walking ahead and behind us.

“The weather seems determined to remind me that I’m not in Sicily,” I say, gripping Max’s arm a little tighter when my foot slides on an icy patch.

He slows his pace until he’s assured himself I’m steady again.

He chuckles. “You’ll get used to it.”

I scowl at him. “Ha, I most certainly won’t. I’m very much looking forward to returning to civilized temperatures,” I retort, smiling sweetly.

“Sure, we can visit Sicily for a short vacation at some point.”

I stop walking and just stare at him. Normally, a comment like that would set me off, but right now, it just makes me laugh.

“You’re incorrigible. But it’s good to have dreams.”

He smiles down at me. “It is, and I intend to make mine come true.”

I nudge him with my elbow. “Shouldn’t you have said, ‘my only goal is to make your dreams come true, Mialina’? You know, to woo me.”

“No. Because if I said that, we’d both know I was lying.”

I grin up at him. It’s true.

We continue on in comfortable silence, the city glittering around us.

We reach a gleaming glass tower, and Maximo lets go of my arm. His hand shifts to the lower part of my back, guiding me up the stairs to the restaurant occupying the lower floor.

I brush snow from my sleeve as the doorman pulls open the entrance, and a wave of warmth washes over me.

Inside, a sharply dressed maître d’ spots us immediately and heads our way.

“Good evening, Mr. Marco.”

“Evening, Daniel.”

The familiarity catches my attention. He must be a regular here.

How many women has he brought here over the years?

A stab of annoyance slices into me.

“Miss Accardi, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Daniel inclines his head as I hand over my coat.

How does he know my name? Does he greet all of Maximo’s guests like that?

I raise an eyebrow at my dinner companion, but he doesn’t react.

“You arrived at a good time, sir,” Daniel says, glancing toward the windows where the snow is falling harder now beneath the streetlights. “It’s supposed to get much worse soon. The forecast even predicts a storm later tonight.”

I’ve never experienced a winter storm. Part of me is actually looking forward to it. So long as I’m indoors beside a fire. We should be back at Aldo’s by then, right?

“That’s what they said yesterday too,” Maximo replies.

Daniel guides us through the restaurant toward the floor-to-ceiling windows. “Fair point. Although this one has the meteorologists unusually confident.”

We continue on, and I watch Maximo as he greets employees by name. A manager stops to welcome him while another staff member nods respectfully as we pass.

“Do you own this place?” I ask, curious given how familiar everyone seems with him.