“Go shower, I gotta make some phone calls and handle some business.”
I turned and lifted to kiss him on the lips. He gripped my waist, and on instinct, I wrapped my legs around his waist.
“Come shower with me. You’re my husband, you gotta do what I say now.”
“If I get in that shower, I’m sliding in those walls and then we gon be in bed all night like old people. And I know how bad you want oysters tonight.”
“Okay, you’re right.”
I kissed his lips again, and he put me down as I took off for upstairs.
Upstairs, all I wanted was silence and hot water. I needed to reset. Today had been loud enough for a whole month. All the media attention was a lot, and I was so glad that it was coming to an end with his retirement. He’d forever be famous, but at least he’d be able to avoid the spotlight a lot more.
I stepped into the shower and let the steam hit me first. Quick wash, nothing extra, just enough to get the courthouse off my skin and clear my head. When I stepped out, I oiled my body down with the body glaze and slipped on one of my favorite Matte Collection sets, the one that hugged everything but still felt soft enough to lounge around in. Cropped tank. High-waist leggings. Bare feet. Fresh face. Hoops in. Edges smoothed. Comfortable.
I was tightening the strap of my watch when I heard voices downstairs—low, unfamiliar, professional. Not Malik. Not Langston. Somebody else.
I frowned.
“What the hell is he up to now?” I muttered as I headed out of the room and down the stairs.
DaVinci stood in the living room with a man in a tailored charcoal suit, holding a large velvet case that looked straight out of a high-end auction. My man turned around the second he sensed me, and that slow smile moved across his face with a confidence that told me he’d been waiting for me to walk in.
“Baby,” he said, tipping his head. “Perfect timing.”
I looked between him and the stranger.
“What are you up to?” I asked, reaching the bottom step.
The suited man nodded politely. “Mrs. Bryns, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I assume the bracelet was to your liking.”
That still brought a smile to my face. I’d never be able to forget him getting my bracelet fixed.
“Yes, thank you so much,” I replied, extending my wrist.
“I’m Jacob,” he continued. “Mr. Bryns requested a private showing this afternoon.”
“A showing?” I repeated, brows raised.
DaVinci walked over and slid his hands around my waist like I wasn’t standing in front of another human being. “We got married without rings, Angel.”
“So?” I said, even though my voice had already softened.
“So,” he murmured against my cheek, “I’m not having you walk around as my wife with bare fingers. I called Jacob to get us right.”
He kissed the side of my face and guided me toward the coffee table, where Jacob had laid out an entire velvet display—bands, stones, cuts, metals, all glittering under the track lights like a little private universe.
“Pick something,” DaVinci said. “Hell, pick two. Whatever you want.”
I looked back at him. “Let’s pick each other’s.”
His mouth lifted at the corner. “Say less.”
I went first, scanning the options and pulling the one that felt most likehim—heavy platinum, sleek, with a single engraved flame on the inside. Simple. Bold. A little dramatic. But unforgettable. Just like the man. My man.
“This one,” I said, sliding it toward him.
He glanced at it, then at me, and something like pride moved across his face. “You know me.”
