Beauty and the Boss (Modern Fairytales 1)

It would make resisting him so much easier.

Her stomach growled angrily, so she picked up a piece of bread and took a bite. That, at least, was delicious. “Mm. Good bread,” she said, holding it up to Mr. Gale—Benjamin. “You should try some. Don’t worry, I won’t throw it at you this time.”

He ate a bite of salad and watched her. Once he swallowed, he patted at his mouth with the linen napkin. “What’s going on?”

Besides the fact that this was the most awkward date she’d ever been on? “Nothing.” She picked up her glass of wine and took another sip, fighting back the cringe that tried to creep out. “I already told you that.”

He leaned back, rested his elbows on the arms of the chair, and let his hands cross in front of him. They fell silent. He sat there looking sexy, and she pushed her salad around on the plate. Sighing, he picked up that darn fork again and ate a few bites. After a while, though, he must’ve realized she hadn’t actually eaten any of hers.

Frowning, he studied her with an intensity that sent goose bumps crawling over her skin. “You might think you’re good at pretending you’re all right, but I can read you like an open book, so I see you’re not happy. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Why do you care?” she asked softly. “What’s it matter to you?”

“I didn’t exactly say I did care,” he replied, cocking his head. “I just said I could see it. But regardless of what you seem to think, I want you to enjoy yourself. I’m not that cruel.”

Her heart thumped. “I am. Like I said, I’m fine.”

“Good. In that case…” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a bright blue box. “I picked this up today.”

She froze, and her stomach dropped to the floor with dread. She would have been more at ease if he’d slid a pair of padded handcuffs across the table. “Please tell me that’s not what I think it is.”

“It’s a ring.” He frowned and pushed the box closer to her. “If that’s what you think it is, then, yes, you’re correct.”

Oh, God. She recognized the Tiffany & Co. box all too well. Every girl in America was fully aware what that bright blue color meant. But if he’d gone to Tiffany’s, he’d spent a fortune on a fake fiancée, and she’d punch him in his stupid, perfect face.

And he’d deserve it.

She couldn’t wear something like that on her finger. It probably cost more than she made in a year—or two. With her luck, she’d end up losing it and owing him a buttload of money when this was all said and done. And she couldn’t afford that. So she rested her fingers on top of his, and pushed it right back to him, ignoring the way his skin felt against hers. “A fake engagement doesn’t qualify for a real ring. Take it back.”

“Actually…” He pushed the box closer to her again, his hand still under hers. “It does. My mother will notice if you’re wearing a fake rock.”

“You can’t tell.”

He cocked a brow and didn’t say a word.

He didn’t need to.

“Oh, fine. Maybe she can.” Maggie grabbed the box and flipped it open without looking at it, her heart racing. “But that doesn’t mean I need a gaudy, huge—” The second she glanced down, the words died in her throat. The ring was gorgeous.

Of freaking course.

It wasn’t obnoxious or gaudy at all. As a matter of fact, it was exactly what she’d want, if this engagement thing were for real. A simple princess cut diamond rested in the middle of a thin platinum band. It was huge, yes, but it was set elegantly, so it didn’t look like too much. She swallowed and ran a hand across the stone.

“You were saying?” he asked, his tone tinged with amusement.

She didn’t respond. Truth be told, she didn’t think she was capable. He scooted out of his chair and took the box from her hand. She let him. He removed the ring and grabbed her left hand. “I wasn’t sure about your size, so I made an educated guess with the help of the salesperson.”

“What did you tell her?”

“Your height and approximate weight.” His lips twitched into an almost smile. “Don’t ask me to tell you what I told her. I know a trap when I see one.”

She laughed, but cut it off quickly when he slid the ring into place. It was a little loose, but not uncomfortably so. His calloused fingertips scraped the back of her finger, and she swallowed hard. “You must’ve done pretty well. It fits.”

“Good.” He curled her hand into a fist and stared down at it. He kept touching her and making her body react to him in ways it shouldn’t, but that wasn’t what made her breath catch in her throat. For a second, as he stared at her, he looked almost…reverent. As if the sight of his ring on a woman’s hand affected him in some way.

It affects me.

“It looks good on you.”