I’m not surprised that he noticed.
But I am a bit surprised at how well I’m able to lie in this game.
“I won’t wear it,” I deadpan, meeting his gaze with one of nonchalance. “Your son is too flashy and spends an ungodly amount of money, Mr Volkov. Since I bake for a living, I can’t wear a rock the size of my head while trying to mix and cook.”
“So…he’s buying you another one to your standards?”
“Not yet, to my knowledge. He’s still trying to get me to wear the one he bought.”
Ivan sends a raised expression to his son. “When did you ask her to marry you?”
“Three weeks ago,” Ben answers.
“And this beautiful creature is still not wearing a ring.”
That’s what I just said.
I chuckle softly, which gets me Ivan’s attention again. “You’re helping my cause, Mr. Volkov. Thank you.” His lips part, to say something stupid, I’m sure, when I tack on, “I just want something simple. If he wants a diamond, fine. However, I’d like something petite and pretty. Not abundantly flashy where I can blind someone with it.”
“Might pose as a good weapon.”
“Might,” I agree. “But, if we’re to have children in the future, I don’t want to cut them with it.”
Ivan seems immediately fascinated by the talk of children. “You plan on having some?”
I grin and tuck my chin in a little to my chest. “Yes. God willing.”
“How soon after…”
Never.
That’s what I want to say. I’m a breeding tool, and these men seem to love that idea, which is sickening. We’re in the twenty-first century, and they’re acting like women are only good for that one thing.
“I don’t want to jinx anything, Mr. Volkov.” I glance up innocently at him, knowing how dangerous a game I’m playing. That he doesn’t buy this. That I haven’t once looked lovingly at Ben while talking about marriage.
It’s written all over his face.
We’re not in love.
This is fake.
I’m full of it.
And Benedikt doesn’t care about me.
I can work with the latter. I can act like I don’t see it, and Ben asked me to marry him, and I’m so enamoured with the idea of weddings that I’m blind to it.
Grandma is safe with this agreement.
Dad is alive, which he doesn’t deserve to be.
I’m getting my own bakery, where Lucy and I can thrive.
“What do you mean?” Ivan asks me suspiciously, gripping his wine glass a little tighter as if I’m going to wipe his empire out in one word.
I’m not only going to wipe it out.
I’m handing it over to Ben so that, hopefully, once he gets it, he’ll leave me alone because he’ll be too busy.
