Page 65 of Claimed At First Sight

Five.

I stare out the car window in disbelief as we follow a road alongside the massive stone wall surrounding the property. At last, we reach a set of large iron gates and line up behind several cars waiting to enter.

“You live this close to your boss, Aldo? That’s tragic.”

He chuckles. “It’s convenient.”

Convenient for who?

I dislike the idea of Maximo existing within such short striking distance. Irritated, I clutch the bag I stuffed his unopened gifts in closer to my chest.

Beside me, Sienna presses closer to the window as the guards wave us through without stopping the car.

“Oh wow,” Ari whispers as the estate opens up in front of us, and for a moment even I fall silent.

Estate really is an understatement. This place is practically a small country. The grounds seem to go on forever, and the house at the end of the drive still looks miles away.

Guards are positioned every few feet despite the subzero temperatures, and nobody seems concerned with keeping them discreet.

We keep moving down a wide driveway. Just when I think we must be getting close, another wall appears ahead.

Apparently one set of gates wasn’t enough.

This one encloses the house and its immediate surroundings behind a second stone wall and another set of iron gates. Beyond them, the drive opens into a huge courtyard, and I finally get a proper look at Maximo’s home.

The house itself stretches far wider than it looked from the drive, its facade all warm stone beneath dark slate roofs. Several wings extend from the main building and disappear behind snow-covered evergreens on either side. Frozen fountains line the approach, while tall chimneys rise above the roofs, smoke curling from them into the night sky.

“It’s grand,” Sienna murmurs.

Grand isn’t the word I would’ve chosen. Imposing, maybe, though it’s less severe than I expected.

Aldo’s estate feels lived in. This place seems more deliberate. Immaculate, like Maximo.

“Well,” I murmur as the car rolls forward with the queue of arrivals, “subtlety clearly isn’t a Marco family value.”

Aldo laughs softly from the front row. Glad I can amuse him.

I stare up at the house. Somewhere inside is Maximo.

Thump, thump, thump.

A strange, restless flutter moves through my stomach. It’s irritation because I’m not nervous.

Aldo, ever the gentleman, helps each one of us out of the car before Mamma slips her arm through his and he leads her toward the entrance. The rest of us follow behind, all three of us staring openly as we step inside.

Pale stone stretches across the foyer beneath a huge crystal chandelier, while twin staircases sweep up on either side, framed in dark wood and black iron. Between them, a set of tall arched doors stands open to the ballroom beyond, while a string quartet plays softly from the gallery above.

Like the outside, everything is expensive without being flashy. Nothing is out of place.

Staff step forward to take our coats, moving so smoothly they barely seem to interrupt the flow of arriving guests.

I spot a man in an impeccable butler uniform standing off to one side and head straight for him.

“Hi,” I say, offering him my sweetest smile as I hold out the bag containing Maximo’s unwanted gifts.

The man takes it carefully, his expression remaining professionally neutral.

“Would you please place these boxes in Don Maximo’s study?” I ask. “They belong to him. I’m just returning them.”