“Poor Azalea.”
“Rich Azalea now. He just signed away his rights to the business in return for more money than anyone could reasonably spend.”
“What about unreasonably?”
“It’s coming out of my pocket, so I can always top it up.” I want to pull her onto my lap and let my hands roam around inside her clothes, but I suppose that’s not appropriate given we have company. “My uncle stole a boat once. It happened when my aunt broke up with him and went on a date with another man.”
“For her or just to take out his frustration?”
“He wanted to get over to Waiheke to spy on them and missed the ferry.”
She pulls a face. “Right.”
“He walked up to her at the restaurant, promised her his undying devotion, then the police led him away in handcuffs.”
“Let me guess.” She arches an eyebrow. “It cost him a load of money to pay the police to look the other way?”
“He got let off with a caution and reparations because the officers on duty didn’t want to stand in the path of true love.”
She gives a derisive snort. “Sure. That’s the reason.”
“Whatever the case, it worked. My aunt left the date to follow him to the station and was waiting when they released him.”
“Yeah, well I don’t know what era all this was happening, but I hope they’d have the sense to slap a restraining order on him nowadays.”
“My point is that the men in my family go after what they want at whatever cost. They bowl their women off their feet.” I shift so I can take both her hands in mine. “When I turned up at the restaurant on Monday night, I intended to harangue my father into signing some papers, then catch the late flight back to Auckland. Instead, I spent a few minutes in your company, then negotiated with your father to ensure you’d become my wife.”
“How romantic.” Her eyes are dark as she stares at me. Lost.
“My point is—”
“You’re a stalker from a long line of stalkers. Yay for me.”
“I want to sweep you off your feet. At the very least, I want to put a large enough ring on your finger so every man who ever checks out your hand knows damn sure that you’re mine.”
Her lips twitch with mischief. “Just buy me a collar, then.”
“To go with your microchip? Sure. But for flashing in public, I feel like the eye-gougingly expensive engagement ring is more on point.”
“I want red.” Crimson turns back to the task, this time with a solid end-goal. She slips off the pink diamond and chews the inside of her cheek as she surveys the other rings on offer. “That one.”
She swaps the rings out and slides on a gem sparkling with such deep colour that it’s like looking at a stone infused with blood. The diamonds surrounding it are close to the size of the only stone in my mother’s ring. As upgrades go, it’s fantastic.
“How much is it?” she asks.
The jeweller opens his mouth and I send him a glare that sees him close it again without speaking.
“Enough to keep any other suitors at bay,” is the only answer I’ll give her.
“The red diamond is a fabulous choice,” the rep says, and I try not to wince. I thought it was a ruby. I adjust my anticipated price to add another few zeroes. Not that it matters. Crimson’s smile as she tilts it back and forth to refract the light makes it worth every cent.
The jeweller fusses with the ring, checking the fit. Despite being called here at the last minute, the sizing is already perfect, like he knew we’d be too pressed for time to wait.
I also take the opportunity to refit my mother’s ring. Although that’s more involved for far less commission, he takes it in his stride and promises to deliver the completed version by tomorrow morning at the latest.
Almost the moment he leaves, the personal shoppers turn up. Four of them. I leave them to it and close myself inside my office. Just as I’m about to check-in with my team, a message comes through from the private investigator.
I pick up the phone to call him back, wanting a summary. The moment I identify myself, he says, “It’s not the father. I even interviewed some members of his close team and they’re never seen any violence.”
