Page 77 of Claimed At First Sight

“Yes, please.”

“And use one of those blankets instead of the tablecloths. They look ridiculous.”

My eyes drift toward the knitted throws piled across the cream sofas.

“I’m already trespassing. I wouldn’t want to use someone else’s blankets.”

She throws me a look that says, Aren’t they yours already?

Thankfully, she doesn’t say it out loud. That allows me to continue living in denial.

I swap the tablecloths for one of the thick cream blankets before sinking deeper into the sofa near the fire.

“What kind of photography do you do?” I ask as Rory pours steaming water into a teapot.

Her mouth twitches. “The kind that scandalizes rich old men.”

I raise a brow. “That could mean several things.”

“It definitely can.”

Something tells me I’m going to like this girl very much.

“You’ve got me intrigued.”

Rory carries the teapot and two cups over to the sunken seating area before setting them onto the low coffee table between the sofas.

“It’s probably best to show you,” she says as she pours the tea and hands me a cup.

“I’d like that.”

I relish the warmth returning to my body as I take a sip.

“How long have you been in Chicago?” she asks.

“I arrived this afternoon.”

Rory’s brows rise.

“And you’re already attending a mafia birthday party? Ambitious.”

“Trust me, I would have happily skipped it.”

Rory smirks, leaning back. “You’re not a fan of mafia high society, then?”

“If I could, I’d avoid them for the rest of my life.”

Her mouth twitches, but she lets that answer sit for a moment.

“So you haven’t seen anything of Chicago yet?”

“Unless mafia mansions and bodyguards count as cultural landmarks, no.”

“Tragic.” She shakes her head. “Someone needs to rescue you from rich mafia people and show you the real city.”

“Are you volunteering?”

“Obviously.”