Page 18 of Fake it for Keeps

That made me smile a little.

I applied minimal makeup, just enough to look presentable. Then I and stepped out of the bathroom. Colt was waiting in the hallway, leaning against the wall with his phone in hand. When he looked up and saw me, hunger flickered in his eyes.

“Perfect,” he said, straightening. “Let’s get moving.”

He led me out of the building and into a waiting black car. The driver pulled away from the curb without a word, whisking me away into the great unknown.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“Valenteen.” He glanced at me. “My flagship store in Manhattan. We need to pick out your engagement ring.”

Right. Of course. Because this was all about his image. None of it meant anything unless other people were seeing us.

The drive was short, and before I knew it, we were pulling up in front of a stunning storefront on Fifth Avenue.

A blacked-out SUV was already parked across the street, and I spotted a photographer with a long-lens camera pointed directly at us.

“Paparazzi,” Colt said, following my gaze. “Just smile and stay close to me. And don’t answer any of their questions.”

The driver opened my door, and Colt was there immediately, offering his hand. I took it. It would look good for the cameras and I wasn’t sure my legs would hold me if I tried to stand on my own.

We were doing this. This was really happening. The train had left the station.

Colt pulled me in close as we walked toward the entrance, his arm sliding around my waist in a possessive gesture that made my breath catch. He leaned down, his lips brushing against my temple in what looked like an intimate moment.

“Sell it,” he murmured against my skin.

Then his hand dropped lower, grabbing a handful of my ass.

I gasped, jerking slightly in his hold.

“Easy,” he said, loud enough for the photographer to hear. “You’re being dramatic.”

“You just⁠—”

“I know what I did.” His voice was low, amused. “Now smile for the camera and let’s find a ring that suits you.”

He opened the door, and we stepped inside.

The store was immaculate. Pristine white walls, polished marble floors, and more diamonds than I’d ever seen in one place. Employees in crisp black suits immediately rushed toward us, their faces lighting up with recognition.

“Mr. Jesson,” a woman said, extending her hand. “What an honor. We weren’t expecting you today.”

“Surprise visit,” Colt said smoothly. “I’m here to find an engagement ring for my fiancée.”

The word fiancée sent a jolt through me. It sounded so real when he said it like that.

The employees’ attention shifted to me. I felt like a specimen under a microscope. They smiled and congratulated us, their voices warm and professional, but I could see the curiosity in their eyes.

Who was I? Where had I come from? How had I managed to snag the most stubbornly single bachelor in New York?

“This way, please,” the woman said, gesturing toward a private room in the back.

We followed her into a space that was more luxurious than the main floor. Plush velvet chairs, champagne chilling in a bucket, and case after case of engagement rings that sparkled under carefully positioned lights. A security guard stood at the door of the room. Several other guards stood around the store. They blended in with the scenery, but there was no missing the massive men, guns at their hips.

I was a fish out of water. Completely and utterly out of my depth.

Everyone was watching us. Watching me. The employees hovered nearby, ready to cater to my every whim. Through the window, I could see more photographers gathering outside, their cameras trained on the storefront.

This was insane.

Colt pulled out a chair for me. I sank into it gratefully. He sat beside me, close enough that our thighs touched, and gestured for the employee to start showing us rings.

She pulled out tray after tray, each one featuring stunning pieces. Emerald cuts. Princess cuts. Cushion cuts. Solitaires and halos and three-stone settings. The diamonds caught the light and threw rainbows into my wide eyes.

“What do you think?” Colt asked, watching me closely. “Are any of them calling to you?”

“They’re all beautiful,” I said honestly.

“Pick one.”

I gave him a look. “You’re the expert. You tell me which one to choose.”

“Stop overthinking it,” he said quietly. “Just pick one you like.”

That was a lot easier said than done.