He finally looks at me. “Yes, my Queen,” he says sarcastically.
I ignore his tone and say, “Give me back my ring.”
He cocks his head at me. “I don’t have it. Ask your husband for it if you want it back.”
Liar. “I know you have it. Give it to me.”
“Why?” he asks.
“It’s mine. You gave it to me, and I want it back. I could just take it, but I want you to give it to me,” I say boldly.
“Hm, it is a remarkable piece of jewelry. I can see why you would want it back,” he says, just this side of insulting.
“I want it back because of what it means to me. Not because of what it looks like. You could have given me a cheap, plastic gumball machine ring and I would still want it,” I say huffily.
“Noted. However, I gave you a very expensive, very rare blue diamond that I know takes your breath away. I see it in your eyes when you look at it. When you think no one is watching. I am fairly certain that what it looks like has something to do with your wanting it back so badly.” He pauses as I gape at him. Does he think I am that shallow? “After all, it isn’t like you want it back because you want us to be together,” he sneers at me.
“What? Of course, I do,” I say to him, surprised he would think that.
He moves quickly to stand in front of me, the anger on his face clearly showing. “Then why didn’t you leave him? He gave you an out and you stayed.”
“Because I love him. I am in love with him. You know this,” I say softly. “I told you I want to be with him, that I want to stay married to him. I asked you to wait, to wait until he leaves me. You know that he will eventually,” I add, even softer.
“He said that he told you he would let you go, so that we could be together. Did he not?”
“He did. But I’m not ready to let him go.”
The pain that flashes across his face hurts me and I start to say something, anything to him to ease the pain but he swoops down on me, kissing me with such force, he bangs my head back against the mirrored elevator walls. His hand goes to my throat to hold me in place as he pushes himself closer to me. He lifts my leg around his waist a
nd fumbles to free himself. He impales me, pinning me to the wall as he rams inside me. He lets go of my throat and pushes my left hand up. He shoves my ring onto my ring finger above my wedding rings and crushes my hand in his too-strong grip. I open my mouth to protest but he silences me with a kiss that leaves me breathless and throbbing around him as he comes inside me and let’s go of my hand. Staring into my wide eyes, he pulls off the ring I gave him and places it roughly onto his left ring finger. “I am done waiting,” he says as he pulls out of me and adjusts his clothing. “Consider this me throwing my hat into the ring.”
He slams the emergency stop button and the doors ding open and off he stalks, leaving me staring open-mouthed after him in my just-fucked state.
Fuck! I think as I stumble back when a group of people enter the elevator. Fuck! What have I done? I stare down at my left hand. All three of my promise rings crammed onto the one finger. Fuck! I quickly take off the blue diamond and put it firmly back where it belongs, on my right ring finger. I am still in shock as the group gets off a few floors up and I push the button for the top floor. In my zombie state, I get off and push the door to the suite open. My eyes find Cole’s and his face drops as he sees mine. “What? What did he do?”
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FIFTY-SIX
“T hrew his hat in the ring,” I say slowly.
Cole closes his eyes as he drops his head into his hands. “Fuck!” he says.
Yep, that is the only word to describe this disaster.
“Oh, fuck, Liv! What am I going to do?” he asks desperately.
“Nothing, my love. Nothing will change. I promise you.” I try to reassure him.
“But he is going to fight for you now. He barely has to try to get you and now he is going to fight. I won’t win, Liv. He will push me out the second he gets you to be his wife.”
“He won’t. Just because he is going to fight for me doesn’t mean anything. I love you. I want to be with you. We will deal with this. Please, baby. Trust me, okay?”
And what does this mean exactly, I wonder, as I console my husband. Fight for me? What exactly is he going to do? It’s hardly like he can ask for pistols at dawn like back in the old days.
We sit in silence for a long time but then I stand up to get showered and changed.
My phone goes off and it’s Devon. “Ready to go? It’s nearly dark out.”
“Yes, is everything organized?”