37. Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Mialina
Everything in Chicago seems to move with purpose. People weave around one another without slowing, conversations disappear beneath traffic, and no one seems inclined to linger.
It’s completely different from Sicily, where life spills into the streets and you can’t go anywhere without stopping to talk to someone. Here, the city simply expects you to keep up.
Ari, Sienna, and I make our way through the crowd bundled in thick coats, hats, and scarves. Patches of old snow still linger along the edges of the street, pushed into stubborn gray mounds by passing traffic.
With Mamma and Aldo gone for their first full day together, we decided to go sightseeing. The girls haven’t seen anything of Chicago yet and were excited for the adventure.
That enthusiasm lasted less than half an hour.
“I can’t feel my face anymore,” Sienna says beside me, shoving her gloved hands deeper into her pockets.
“You said that ten minutes ago and yet you continue speaking,” I point out.
Ari snorts, her attention already elsewhere as she turns in a circle beneath the towering buildings surrounding us. Her eyes are bright despite the cold. Honestly, I think she’d happily freeze solid if it meant exploring somewhere new.
No one here looks twice at us. For once, we’re just three girls walking through the city. Well, three girls and four security guards hovering nearby pretending not to hover.
I’d never admit it out loud, especially not to Maximo, but after what Aldo said the other day about the Irish, I’m kind of glad they’re here.
Ari points toward one of the enormous stone buildings across the street. “Why are some buildings so old-looking and fancy, but then others are glass?”
I follow her gaze. The building in question looks like something from another century, all carved stone and dramatic arches, while directly beside it stands a sleek mirrored tower disappearing into the gray sky.
“Because Chicago has architectural commitment issues,” I say, keeping a straight face.
Ari rolls her eyes. “You made that up.”
“She did,” a deep male voice says from behind me. “Much of the city was rebuilt after the Great Chicago Fire in 1871. Some of the older architectural styles survived, but Chicago also became one of the birthplaces of the modern skyscraper.”
My stomach drops and flips at the same time, which shouldn’t even be physically possible.
Then, thankfully, I remember that I’m beyond annoyed with the man that sinful voice belongs to.
But it seems that being angry and being attracted to someone are not mutually exclusive conditions.
I turn around and find Maximo standing a few feet away. The dark wool coat, black leather gloves, and calm expression make him look as though the cold doesn’t dare touch him.
Beside me, Sienna stills. Not a surprising reaction after yesterday’s encounter.
She asked what happened for Maximo to storm in the way he did and order her and Ari from the room, but there was no chance I was admitting he’d discovered a book full of boudoir photographs of me. I changed the subject instead.
Maximo’s gaze settles on me first before drifting to my sisters.
“Steel-frame construction revolutionized architecture after the fire,” he continues, like my nervous system didn’t just short-circuit. “It allowed buildings to rise much taller than before.”
Ari blinks up at him as he steps closer. “That’s interesting.”
His expression softens by about one percent.
“It is,” he agrees.
I fold my arms tightly across my chest, ignoring the fact that my pulse has decided to sprint.
“Tell me, Don Maximo, do you often appear behind unsuspecting women on sidewalks, or is it just me who receives this special treatment?”
A wicked glint appears in his eyes.
“Only you,” he says smoothly.
“Does that mean you brought the book you stole from me?”
A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, but he suppresses it.
“No, that wouldn’t be safe out in the open. Rest assured it’s carefully stored away.”
I roll my eyes at him.
He leans closer, invading my space, and my heart rate kicks up another notch. I catch a hint of his cologne, and remembering why I’m angry with him suddenly requires a lot more concentration than it should.
His mouth moves to my ear. “I look forward to going through the album again with you. Let me know when you’re ready for it.”
I might actually be beginning to sweat despite the cold.
For once, I have no clever response. My brain just abandons me. By the time it works again, several seconds have passed, and Maximo seems way too pleased with himself.
I fold my arms, not that it’s much of a defense against him.
“And what are you doing here, Don Maximo?”
“Ensuring you don’t get kidnapped in my city.”
I stare at him.
“Well. That’s comforting and alarming at the same time. But as you can see,” I point to the guards surrounding us, “it’s not necessary. Security hasn’t lost us so far today.”
“And they never will again, or everyone involved will have to deal with the consequences.”
I fix him with a glare. “Now that definitely sounded like a threat.”
“Better heed it, because I won’t let it slide like last time.”
My eyes widen. Did Maximo just imply he’d punish me?
And why does that thought send an entirely inappropriate shiver through me?
Maximo notices, of course, but a gust of icy wind sweeps between the buildings at the same moment, and he misinterprets it.
Thank you, God, for this small mercy.
His gaze shifts toward my hands. “Why aren’t you wearing any gloves?”
He takes them into his and hisses. “Your hands are freezing.”
“I’m fine,” I try to reassure him, even though I have been keeping them tugged inside my pockets to keep them somewhat warm. The simple truth is I forgot them at Aldo’s.
He turns to one of the guards behind us. “Get Miss Accardi some warm gloves.”
I watch as the man disappears into a nearby store without hesitation and turn back to Maximo. “Did you just dispatch someone over my cold hands?”
“Obviously.” He says it like it’s nothing.
Maybe it isn’t to him, but I feel strangely cared for. Warmth blossoms in my abdomen, and I bite my lip to hide my smile.
Nobody has ever looked at my hands and decided they were his problem to solve. He can be kind of sweet.
No, what am I thinking? Maximo Marco sweet? It’s not in his repertoire.
Getting me gloves is self-serving. After all, if I lost fingers to frostbite, it would limit my ability to perform the future-wife duties he’s undoubtedly already assigned to me in that head of his.
Duties like taking care of him by wrapping my hands around his…
No, I’m not imagining his private parts. Because then I’d picture him naked, and that’s dangerous. I have enough problems already.
Despite the freezing temperature, heat creeps into my cheeks. I’m tempted to press my icy fingers against my hot skin for relief, but I resist. Maximo is far too observant and would probably figure out where my mind had gone.
I need to change the subject. Pronto.
“You’re in a much better mood than when I last saw you,” I comment.
“Am I?”
I widen my eyes at him. “Well, yesterday you seemed ready to murder an innocent photographer.”
His eyes narrow. “She was never in danger.”
“Of course not. If she’d been a man, though, it would have been a different story, wouldn’t it?”
He doesn’t deny it. “You could have just told me.”
I shrug. “I would have if you’d given me back my book. Besides, it was far too satisfying letting you believe it.”
“Well, it’s a moot point now.”
The guard returns holding out a bag to me. Inside is a pair of black leather gloves lined with something super soft.
“That was fast,” I mutter.
“Efficiency is important,” Maximo replies.
I resist the urge to roll my eyes again.
I slide the gloves on and nearly moan. Warmth envelops my frozen fingers, spreading through my hands in a way that’s nothing short of heavenly.
“Oh wow.”
Sienna laughs beside me. “That good?”
“I may never take them off.”
Amusement flickers across Maximo’s face as he watches me flex my fingers.
“Thank you,” I tell him.
His expression softens. “You’re welcome.”
Before I can say anything else, Maximo turns and continues walking.
Is he joining us for this outing?
Ari and Sienna both look at me. We want to explore the city, and unlike us, Maximo knows it like the back of his hand.
Also, picking a fight over this seems pointless. He’s going to walk with us regardless of what I want. We might as well extract useful information from the mafia don currently hijacking our afternoon.
“Are we supposed to follow you?” I call after him. Maximo glances back over his shoulder and grins.
Honestly, he should be banned from doing that in public. He’s already unfairly attractive. Adding smiles to the equation seems excessive.
My pulse gives an appreciative little flutter. I pretend not to notice.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
Ari is already hurrying after him, ever curious, while Sienna gives me a cautious look before walking on. I exhale slowly and follow too.
As we continue walking, glass towers give way to historic stone buildings and ornate facades. Every few blocks, Ari spots something new and demands an explanation, while Maximo somehow has an answer ready for everything.
I’d expected him to be knowledgeable about organized crime, business, and intimidating people into obedience. I hadn’t expected him to be an enthusiastic amateur historian. It’s like Chicago sits mapped somewhere beneath his skin.
At some point, even Sienna stops looking terrified by Maximo and starts asking questions.
“…and that one?” Ari asks, pointing upward again as we stop at a crossing.
“The Carbide and Carbon Building.”
Ari squints up at the black-and-gold tower. “It looks evil.”
A flicker of amusement crosses Maximo’s face. “It was designed to look expensive.”
“Those aren’t mutually exclusive,” Sienna points out.
The crosswalk signal changes and the crowd begins moving again.
As we cross the street, Maximo’s hand brushes the small of my back, steering me around a group of pedestrians without breaking stride.
It’s such a small thing, gone again almost immediately, yet warmth spreads through my chest all the same.
On the other side of the street, Ari slows near a narrow alley between two buildings.
I barely notice at first. She’s been getting distracted all afternoon, lured away by shop displays, unusual buildings, and pretty much anything else that catches her attention.
“Ari,” Sienna calls. “Come on.”
“Yes, I’m coming.”
She doesn’t sound convincing. Instead, she continues staring down the alley.
A moment later, I catch the faintest sound coming from somewhere between the buildings. It’s a miserable little cry.
Ari’s face falls. “That’s a cat.”
Before any of us fully register what she’s doing, she slips sideways and disappears down the alley.
“Ari,” I snap.
She either doesn’t hear me or ignores me.
“Oh for the love of—”
I move after her, but Maximo catches my arm before I can follow. The contact stops me cold.
“Wait.”
The single word lands sharp enough that even I freeze. Something in his expression has changed.
Gone is the dry amusement from earlier, along with the calm architectural commentary.
Maximo scans the alley, and for the first time all afternoon I catch a glimpse of the man who rules Chicago. His gaze shifts farther down the lane, toward the street beyond.
Every trace of warmth vanishes from his expression. His attention sharpens, and his posture stills as though the entire world has narrowed to a single point.
Following his line of sight, I spot three men standing near the far end of the block. They’re watching us, and more specifically Ari.
“Who are they?” I ask, unease creeping through me.
Are they the Irish family I’m supposedly promised to?
“Romero men,” Maximo replies.
Even if I didn’t already know that they’re his enemies, his tone gives it away.
And they’re far closer to Ari than we are. Cold floods my stomach.
“Ari!” I shout, panic trying to choke my voice. “Get back here. Now!”
The distance is too great and the city too loud. If she hears me, she doesn’t react.
My eyes find Sienna’s. Judging by the sudden loss of color in her face, she can tell something is wrong too.
Maximo releases my arm, never taking his eyes off the alley.
“Move,” he orders the guards.
Everything happens at once. Two guards reposition themselves around us while another heads toward the alley. Across the street, one of the Romero men lifts a phone to his ear and starts talking.
A chill slips beneath my skin.
“We need to get to Ari,” I hiss, trying to step around him.
“I’ll handle it.” Maximo’s voice remains far too calm.
He steps in front of Sienna and me, shielding us from the street as pedestrians continue flowing around us, completely oblivious to the tension building beneath the surface.
“Sienna stays with Paolo,” he says sharply.
“Mia, you—”
“I’m not staying behind,” I snap, cutting him off.
His gaze lands on mine. I’ve seen Maximo irritated, amused, and even angry before. This is something else.
His expression is controlled, his authority absolute. This is why grown men obey him.
“Fine. But you will do exactly as I say for the next five minutes.”