“You have to admit, it’s pretty ironic. Paris is synonymous with lovenotmerger-marriages.”
“I reckon you’d be surprised how many people hold hands for show. Your former stepmother is a great example.”
“The conniving bitch did a great job fooling us all.” She doesn’t hide her disdain.
“Now, for the last item on the agenda.” I veer the conversation. “The ring.”
“I stand my ground, a cubic zirconia would’ve been a safer bet.” Her lips curve in amusement.
“I play big and I win big, kitty cat.”
I pull a navy-blue box engraved with two iconic letters from my pocket.
She gasps. “I’m willing to bet that’s not a cubic zirconia.”
“I surely hope not because that is a lot of coin to drop on a synthetic stone.”
Her eyes bounce to mine, her excitement evident.
The moment is strangely intimate, considering her earlier jokes at the fake nature of the relationship. Dropping to one knee seems a bit much, so I play it down.
“You’re in luck. My contacts at Harry Winston had the cut you selected…” I crack open the lid on a 5.15 carat elongatedcushion cut diamond ring set on a platinum band circled with small, brilliant diamonds.
Michaela’s mouth drops open.
“Oh, Phoenix…” She brings one hand to her chest. “It’s absolutely gorgeous. I know I selected it, but seeing it in real life, takes my breath away.” I can’t explain why pride floods my chest at her words. “Two carats would’ve been more than enough. You didn’t have to supersize it.”
“I’m glad you like it,” I say. “As for the size, a queen marrying a king deserves a ring that makes a statement. Expect the matching wedding band to be as queen-worthy.”
She giggles.
“If you keep spoiling me like this, I’m going to forget it’s pretend.”
Our gazes lock.
An awkward moment passes between us.
She can’t take back her words.
A flash of uncertainty glints from her eyes.
“Silly me.” She slaps her palm against her forehead. “It’s pretend—as fake as plastic.”
I reach for the diamond ring. “Let me make it official.”
She lets out a nervous laugh. “Okay.”
She extends her left hand. I take it and slip the ring on her finger.
She smiles down at the ring. “It sparkles like crazy and it takes a life of its own on my finger.”
“It’s feeding off your dragon fire.”
“Sweet talker.”
“It fits?”
Her eyes lift to mine. “It fits perfectly.”
