From the way he kissed me, I know he finds me attractive. But to see this visible reaction to my unconscious action is the confidence boost I needed. I jerk my chin.
Something like relief filters into his features. "I need you to say that aloud, Siren."
Sweet baby Jesus in a manger.That nickname makes me feel all fuzzy and also overheated at the same time. I shove it aside and nod again.
"Yes.” I sniff. “Also, the ring needs to be vintage Art Deco with an emerald in a rose gold setting."
So, I might have a secret Pinterest board where I have images of the kind of ring I want. And this might be on the top of the list.
"Okay." He rises to his feet.
I tip my head back as he towers over me.
"Come on." He holds out his hand.
This time I stare at it suspiciously. "Where?"
"You want a ring, don’t you?"
21
Brody
"This is too much." She squirms around in her chair.
"Nothing’s too much for my wife-to-be." I put an arm around her shoulders.
She darts a look at the man behind the counter of the most prestigious jeweler in the city. The Davenports invested in this business when they first started out a hundred years ago. It took only one call for the current CEO to arrange for a private viewing at their St. James’ showroom.
Of course, it’s because we have company that I'm coming across as all possessive. Never too early to start the pretense.
Which is why I agreed to the ring right away.
It has nothing to do with wanting to be sure she doesn’t confuse our arrangement with the engagement she had with that turd ex-fiancé of hers.
"And now, for the pièce de résistance." The salesperson behind the counter pulls out a key and, with great ceremony, unlocks acabinet under the glass case. He pulls out a black velvet tray and places it on the countertop.
Nestled among the folds of velvet is a vintage Art Deco ring in rose gold. In the center sits a breathtaking emerald.
It’s rich, vivid, and so dark, it borders on dangerous. The stone catches the light like a secret being revealed. Itglows. Bold. Uncompromising. Impossible to ignore.
It's framed by slender diamond baguettes that only make the green blaze brighter, like a forest on fire at dusk. Like the sparks in her eyes.
The band is understated, but impossibly elegant, with filigree so fine it looks like spun lace. It’s not flashy. It doesn’t scream. It commands.
Lark freezes. Her lips part, her gaze riveted by the ring.
And I’m riveted by her. I can’t breathe. Can’t say a word. I am captured by the hushed surprise, delight, and awe in her eyes.
This isn’t a ring. This is a reckoning. Something powerful. Unexpected. Unapologetically her.
She reaches out, fingers trembling slightly. “That’s…”
“Yours.” I pick up the ring and hold out my other hand.
She stares at the ring, and when she slowly places her palm in mine, her fingers tremble. I slip the ring onto her left ring finger.
"Perfect!" The salesperson claps his hands.
