I hold out the box and flip the lid open with my thumb.
Audrey stares at the ring. The silence in the room stretches, thick and heavy.
It is an emerald-cut diamond, flanked by tapered baguettes, set in aged platinum. It doesn't look new. It looks like it has survived a century of secrets.
"It’s..." She exhales a shaky breath, her hand hovering over the box without touching it. "It’s beautiful. It doesn't look like a prop."
"It isn't." I look down at the stone, then back at her face. "It belonged to my grandmother. It is a family heirloom. My father has been trying to get his hands on it for a decade to give to Simon. He believes the golden boy should have the family legacy."
Audrey’s head snaps up. Her eyes are wide, the implication hitting her immediately. "You’re giving me a family heirloom? To fake an engagement? Malcolm, if Simon sees this—"
"Simon will realize that he is entirely, fundamentally outmatched," I finish for her.
I don't wait for her to argue. I reach out and take her left hand.
Her skin is cold, just like it was at the bar last night. My thumb brushes against the inside of her wrist, pressing lightly against the erratic, frantic beat of her pulse. She tries to pull her hand back, a pure reflex of self-preservation, but my grip tightens just enough to keep her anchored.
"Relax, Audrey," I murmur, keeping my eyes locked on hers.
"I am relaxed," she lies, her voice breathless.
I pull the ring from the velvet slot. The metal is cool against my fingers. I align it with her ring finger and slowly slide it past her knuckle.
It fits perfectly.
I don't let go of her hand immediately. I look down at the vintage platinum resting against her pale skin. The sight of it does something violent to the inside of my chest. A dark, possessive satisfaction that has absolutely nothing to do with revenge or family politics.
She is wearing my ring. She is standing in my home.
I suppress the urge to pull her closer. I force my fingers to loosen, letting her hand drop.
Audrey takes a quick step back, putting distance between us. She rubs her thumb over the diamond, staring at it as if it might burn her.
"It’s heavy," she whispers.
"You’ll get used to it." I pick up the empty velvet box and slide it into my pocket. "The engagement party is in four weeks. Until then, we need to be seen in public. Dinners. Charity galas. Places where my father’s associates will notice us and report back to him. By the time the party arrives, the rumor mill will have done half the work for us."
Audrey nods slowly, still staring at the ring. "And what do we tell people? How did we meet? Why did we keep it a secret?"
"We didn't keep it a secret. We kept it private. There is a difference." I walk over to the refrigerator, pulling out a bottle of sparkling water. I offer her one. She shakes her head. "As for how we met, the truth is usually the best foundation for a lie. Wemet at a hotel bar. You were drinking a martini. I bought you another."
"Right. And then we bonded over our mutual hatred for your brother?" She looks up, a sharp edge returning to her voice.
"We bonded over a mutual understanding of what it takes to survive," I correct her. "You don't need to overthink the narrative, Audrey. People see what they want to see. When they look at us, they will see a man who has finally found a woman he can't buy, and a woman who has found a man who can protect her."
She crosses her arms, the sweater bunching around her shoulders. "I don't need protection."
"Simon locked you out of your own company using a shell corporation," I point out, my tone flat. "You need protection."
"I need a better lawyer," she snaps back.
"You have me. It’s significantly more effective."
She glares at me. The defiance in her eyes is spectacular. Most people in my world nod, agree, and look at the floor when I speak. Audrey looks at me like she’s trying to figure out exactly where to insert the knife.
"Are there any other rules I need to know about?" she asks, her tone dripping with mock politeness. "Curfews? Dress codes? Do I need to submit a written request if I want to order a pizza?"
I unscrew the cap of the water bottle. I take a slow drink, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make her shift her weight uncomfortably.
