“Well, my sincere congratulations to Renaldo but I don’t think I’ll feel comfortable in any of these.”
He opens his mouth, closes it, and then grabs my hand. “Come.”
We walk a few steps to the back corner of the store. The clerk follows. We’re out of the engagement and wedding section. I can’t see exactly what gems surround us because Benedict blocks me with his tall frame.
“That one,” Benedict says to the fancy little man behind the counter. I move to see just as he turns to show me. I gasp. It’s a huge turquoise oval stone with diamonds on either side of it. The way it’s sparkling must mean the band has tiny diamonds too. “No huge flawless diamond, no huge price tag.” He says but again he sounds unsure of himself. I look up.
“No huge price tag?” I ask, meaning to sound snarky. I’m sure it’s still massively expensive. But my voice comes out breathy instead.
He looks down and slides the ring on my hand.
He clears his throat, “Teal, right? It suits you.” It takes me a second to register what he just said. I mentioned teal was my favorite color when we did our drunken twenty questions. I guess he was paying attention.
“There’s teal,” I say, looking down at my hand, “and then there’sthis.”
“Oh. Bollocks. I thought I’d found a winner,” Benedict moves to take it off, and without thinking I stop him. Which makes the man break into possibly the biggest smile Sin City has ever seen. “Itisa winner.”
“No, I—”
“We’ll take this!” He says to the clerk, purposefully cutting me off. I try to say his name but he grabs both my elbows. “One giant ring,plusthe matching necklaceandearrings and Iwon’tstage a grand, public proposal in the middle of the strip.”
My eyes bulge at the thought. “You wouldn’t.”
“I won’t if you take my gifts.”
“Fine, can we go now? This place is making me itchy.”
He chuckles, “Better buy yourself some calamine lotion to make it through next year, then, love.”
I shake my head and exit through the front door, instantly relaxing in the bright sunshine and lingering heat. I lean back against the front wall of the building, close my eyes and breathe. Before I can fully calm my heart rate I hear Benedict come out. I get moving toward the limo that’s already waiting for us, because of course it is.
Once the driver tucks us both in the back and Nigel climbs in the front seat, Benedict studies me. “Only one more quick stop.” I raise my eyebrows at him. He goes on with a smile, “That jumpsuit thing fits you like a glove, and a sexy one at that, but you do wear other things, yeah? I don’t think you should get married in all black.”
I squirm in my seat as a blush meets my cheeks. It’s weird how he just says compliments so plainly, like he’s observing the weather. I’ve worn this same work romper every day. I tried different tops with it but I guess I should have expected him to notice. “I wasn’t planning on being seen so I didn’t pack much.Mayo suit, remember? And I amnotwearing a long, poofy, designer wedding dress.”
His eyes do the sparkly thing, “Oh, I’d much prefer a short, tight dress if I get a say.”
“Well, you’re buying,” I mutter.
“Come now, you like fashion, I know you do.” I glance up and meet his eyes. How does he know that? “You can wear whatever you like but I think, for appearances’ sake, it should be white.”
“Okay.”
“And expensive.”
I start to argue, but realize that that’s going to get old fast. This is his world and I’m going to have to live in it. I just look out the window.
We stop at a designer wedding boutique that is somehow totally Vegas but not cheesy. I keep my mouth shut. I don’t look at price tags. I use all of my self control to not throw my eyes up at the ceiling a million times. I am going to have to roll with his punches if this is going to work.
To my surprise, he immediately tells the clerk when we walk in, “Nothing long or poofy.”
“Of course, Mr. Clark.” I force myself not to groan about the fact that she knows who he is. “I’m Leanne and I’m sure I can find something,” the chic, older woman replies. She directs the next question to me, not my famous, rich fiancé, which I appreciate. “Short, then? What about ruffles? Lace? Sparkle? F—”
“No feathers!” I shudder. “I…” I actually look around and take in the beautiful pieces. Whatever these dresses cost, they’re worth every penny. “I don’t hate lace or ruffles. I like some drama but no, no sparkles or feathers, please.”
“Of course, make yourselves comfortable and I’ll pull some options.”
“Champagne?” Benedict asks as we walk into the small dressing area with a pedestal and a million mirrors.
