Page 74 of Claimed At First Sight

Hugging my arms around myself, I glance around for a solution before spotting a service table tucked near the inside of the terrace doors, stacks of folded white tablecloths resting on top.

I grab two when no one is looking. Perfect.

Wrapping the tablecloths around myself, I step out onto the terrace, taking a deep, freezing breath.

Despite the icicles that must be forming inside my lungs, I relish the freedom from Chicago’s high mafia society out here.

Not surprisingly, given the temperatures, I’m alone.

Stepping up to the railing, I take in the gardens below, golden lights glowing against the snow. The estate looks more like some old-money winter fantasy than an actual home.

Then something catches my attention through the trees. Beyond the hedges and bare branches, a warm glow reflects off glass.

I lean against the railing, squinting into the darkness.

What on earth is that?

I should probably ignore it. That would be the sensible thing to do. Unfortunately, I’ve never been especially committed to sensible choices.

Pulling the tablecloths tighter around myself, I head down the stairs leading off the terrace.

The moment my heels sink into snow at the bottom step, icy cold seeps through the thin soles of my shoes.

I stop.

I glance back toward the glowing ballroom windows behind me, then toward the inviting structure further down the garden.

It’s a complete no-brainer.

I’d rather risk hypothermia than go back inside and endure another second of Maximo staring at me like I’m already wearing his wedding ring.

As long as security doesn’t mistake me for an intruder and wrestle me face-first into the snow, everything should be fine. Right?

A narrow path cuts through the snow toward the mysterious structure. It’s only lightly dusted while the ground around it lies ankle-deep.

Thank God someone had the foresight to clear the way for reckless women wandering around in evening gowns.

The farther I walk from the mansion, the quieter everything becomes. That part I love. My freezing fingers and toes, however, not so much. I pull the layers of stolen linen tighter around myself.

Seriously, this was a terrible idea.

I’m dressed for a ballroom, not an arctic expedition. But I’m almost there. I’m not turning back now.

Somewhere behind me, music still drifts faintly from the mansion. And ahead of me, the glowing structure grows larger.

It’s so much bigger than I first thought.

Glass walls rise high into the night, framed in black steel. Warm amber light glows from within while snow gathers along the roof above. Even from here I can see plants and trees inside.

This is a conservatory. No, bigger than that. A full-scale luxury glass house.

My heart gives a strange little leap.

The condensation makes it difficult to see inside. I step closer, peering through one of the panels.

There are plants and flowers everywhere.

I catch glimpses of oversized pots, climbing greenery, and pools of soft light surrounding a seating area near what looks like a fireplace.