Page 44 of Claimed At First Sight

“Wow,” Sienna whispers, her voice full of awe. “Aldo isn’t playing around.”

“He’s trying to drown her in petals,” Isa says, a genuine smile breaking through her usual stoic mask.

I stand on the stairs, staring down at the sea of gold, and I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face.

Yes, I’m a sucker for a well-arranged bloom, and this is the most spectacular thing I’ve ever seen in person. If this is Aldo’s way of saying he’s thinking of her while he’s in Chicago, then the man is a romantic genius.

I feel a surge of happiness for Mamma. She deserves to have her house turned into a sun-drenched garden by a man who clearly knows her favorite colors.

“It’s a literal sun trap,” I say, finally finding my voice. “It’s impossible to be in a bad mood in a room this yellow.”

“Mamma!” Sienna yells toward the upstairs hallway. “Come downstairs right now!”

I laugh as Isa sidles up beside me.

“Mamma,” Sienna shouts louder this time, her voice echoing off the vaulted ceilings. “You need to see what Aldo sent you.”

When there’s still no answer from the master suite, she turns on her heel and rushes up the stairs.

One of the delivery men clears his throat. “There’s also a package,” he says.

He steps forward holding a cream-colored gift box wrapped in satin ribbon. My awe fades the second I see the tag attached to it.

Mialina Accardi.

Isa notices it at the same time I do.

Her frown deepens, her gaze darting between the box and the sea of yellow flowers filling the foyer.

“These aren’t for Mamma. They’re for you.”

Unease curls low in my stomach. It’s a sharp contrast to the warmth that was there only seconds ago.

“No,” I say immediately. “They can’t be.”

But even as the words leave my mouth, the truth is already taking root in my gut. The yellow flowers and the sheer scale of the display tell me this isn’t a gentlemanly tribute to a budding romance. It’s a siege.

Isa watches my expression carefully now.

“Mia?”

I don’t respond. Scowling, I take the box from the delivery man, my fingers grazing the cool, expensive cardboard. Isa steps closer, practically vibrating with curiosity.

With a steadying breath, I untie the ribbon and lift the lid.

Inside the box are several elegant tins of tea, beautifully packaged and clearly expensive. I pick one up and read the label.

Dandelion root tea.

“Oh no,” Isa whispers, though her eyes are sparkling with delight.

I close my eyes, wishing I could travel back in time and sew my mouth shut. I deeply regret ever answering his questions about my favorite flower.

Before I can stop her, Isa snatches the card from the box. I reach for it, but she is faster, dancing out of my range.

Her eyes scan the note, and then she bursts out laughing. It isn’t a polite little chuckle but a can’t-breathe kind of laugh.

“Oh, this is bad,” she wheezes, clutching her stomach as she tries to suck in air. “This is spectacularly bad, Mia.”