Mister Fake Fiance

“I’m sure you’ll be delighted with it. Masako called it a ring for people who don’t realize how special they are yet,” Hans says with a broad smile. “Now, let’s size your finger, shall we?”

Chapter Sixteen

Erin

David plucks the ring from the tray and slides it on my finger. Even without sizing, it fits perfectly.

“See? Fated. It was made to sparkle on you.” David sounds unbearably smug, but I can’t even get upset with him because the ring is just too stunning.

The deep red seems to swallow my gaze, and the stone’s cut beautifully. The color looks amazing against my rather pale hand, and pleasure flutters in my heart. The diamond ring I chose would’ve been fine, but it didn’t call to me like this one.

On the other hand, I feel slightly guilty that he’s going to end up spending way too much on it. The other one has to be cheaper. And even if he’s doing this to maintain his image, nobody but us would know that there was a more expensive ruby ring we could have chosen.

But from the way he signs the credit card slip with a smile, you would never guess he’s bothered by the price. Maybe he honestly isn’t because he’s so rich.

I tip the flute back and down the rest of the champagne. Not because I necessarily need a drink but because I want David to get his money’s worth. One of the first things I learned in life was that there is no free lunch. The champagne is built into the ring price.

“Shall I put it in a box for you?” Hans asks, gesturing at my finger.

Wait, he thinks I might want it in a box? I make a tight fist with my left hand automatically and pull it close to my body. Then I shoot a glance David’s way. Am I expected to…?

David looks at me, then smiles. “Look how happy she looks. Taking it away from her would be cruel.”

“But of course.” Hans puts a black velvet box in a discreet shopping bag with the elegant MH logo on it and walks us out.

Once we’re out on the sidewalk, after the boutique door has closed behind us, I start to giggle.

“What?” David says.

“Him escorting us out.”

A corner of David’s mouth quirks up. “He probably didn’t want us getting lost in the store.”

That makes me laugh harder for some reason, especially since the store isn’t particularly large. “Actually, it reminded me of what you said on Saturday. About a serial killer pouncing on his unsuspecting victim. Maybe Hans was trying to protect his customer base.” Then I lower my voice. “Does he get a commission, you think?”

David shrugs. “Maybe. Why?”

“Just curious. I thought he could be looking for a repeat customer.”

That’s probably why he was flattering David and siding with him so much, since it’s obvious who’s got the money to patronize such an expensive place. And I’m not sure if I really believe what Hans said about the pearl ring. I have no idea who Anthony Blackwood might be. For all I know, it’s somebody Hans made up. But people are just going to assume he’s telling the truth. It isn’t like anybody’s going to look this Anthony Blackwood up and call him to check. And a man in a crisp suit who speaks with a European accent does come across as a trustworthy fellow, unfair as that stereotype might be.

“Anyway, it’s only for a few months,” I say to myself, looking down at the ring again. It’s like my eyes are magnetized to the thing. I’m going to be sad when I have to return it, but I’ll enjoy it while I can.

“Exactly,” David agrees after a beat. “Nothing to worry about.”

He totally missed my point, but I decide not to argue. He looks too pleased with the purchase. And if I’m honest with myself, I’m too in love with the ring to protest much.

His phone vibrates. He pulls it out his pocket and frowns.

“Anything wrong?” I ask.

“It’s the people who went to check on your place. They’re saying it’s surrounded by reporters.”

I gape at him. “Really? How did they know where I live?”

He sighs. “It’s not really a secret, trust me. They probably want to know more because they thought you were Fordham’s fiancée or whatever, but now…you’re not his fiancée, but mine.” He shifts his weight, scratching his earlobe impatiently.

Air feels tight and thick in my throat. I can’t imagine a repeat of what happened outside the office lobby. “So. What do we do?” I ask. He always has ideas.