Page 83 of Claimed At First Sight

My body is still buzzing from having Mia so close, and the urge to drag her onto my lap still hasn’t fully left my system.

Control. I will it back into my body.

I delivered Mia to Aldo, who has taken her and the rest of the Accardis back to his house.

Adjusting the cuff of my jacket, I continue through the crowd toward Gabe and Rafa, who are in conversation with a couple of our capos.

Men straighten subtly as I pass, and space opens around me.

That’s better. Predictable.

Unlike Mialina Accardi, with her sharp mouth and refusal to behave the way she should. But if I’m being honest, it’s refreshing not knowing what she might say or do next.

“Don Maximo.” Vittoria approaches, her golden gown shimmering beneath the crystal lights.

Her persistence annoys me. I continue walking, yet she keeps pace beside me.

“I feel like you’re avoiding me,” she says in a voice that’s meant to be flirtatious.

“You’re mistaken.”

She barely ever registers.

“Is Mialina Accardi the intended bride you mentioned all those weeks ago?” she asks, slightly breathless as she struggles to match my stride.

I stop walking and look at her. The directness surprises me.

Until now, Vittoria clearly believed she remained a serious contender to become the next Mrs. Marco. Mia’s arrival has forced the situation into focus.

Nearby conversations thin around us. Vittoria glances around before lowering her voice.

“When nothing further happened after the succession ceremony, I assumed it was a false alarm. You and I have always gotten along so well.”

Her fingers settle against my sleeve, lingering there with a familiarity she hasn’t earned.

“I thought if there were serious intentions elsewhere,” she continues softly, “you would have made that clearer to me.”

Apparently, basic indifference is no longer enough to discourage people.

I still don’t speak.

“But after earlier tonight, people are talking,” she says carefully. “They’ve seen us together, but they also noticed the way you were watching her.”

A coy smile curves her mouth, meant to entice me. When I still say nothing, that smile wavers.

I stare at her for a long moment before holding out my arm. Relief flashes across her face so quickly it almost bores me.

She slips her hand through my arm, chin lifting as nearby guests notice us together. I lead her across the ballroom.

Her father, Giulio Bellandi, is a high-ranking capo who’s been angling for this match for the past two years. He stands speaking with two other men near one of the stone columns lining the ballroom.

His expression shifts the moment he sees us approaching, and he dismisses the other men.

“Don Maximo.”

I stop in front of him and calmly remove Vittoria’s hand from my arm.

“Your daughter has overstepped tonight.”