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I slide it on my ring finger and watch him do the same. His thick gold band fits perfectly, a contrast to the tan skin of his long fingers and broad hand.
“Does yours fit?” he asks.
I nod, curling my hand into a fist. The gold feels cold against my palm. “Sure does.”
“Just one more.” He reaches for his other pocket, and hand still inside it, he spins something around. Then he pulls out an engagement ring.
“Oh,” I breathe. It’s beautiful. A solitaire diamond on a gold band, surrounded by a ring of emeralds.
“As your engagement ring,” he mutters. “See if it fits.”
I slide it on my finger. It’s tight over the knuckle, but once I’ve worked past the bump, the gorgeous ring slides into position next to the wedding band. It glitters beneath the spotlights.
“It fits,” I say.
“Right. Well, we’ll wear them for tonight.”
This might be a business decision and a fake marriage, but it feels very real to look down at your hand and see rings there, to see your husband slide his on his own ring finger. “I’ll give them back to you when we get home,” I say. “I’d hate to lose one.”
“They’re insured.”
“Right, well, I still wouldn’t want to lose them.”
“Let’s get this over with.”
My Prince Charming, I think, following him down the staircase. Bonnie is in the kitchen and she gives us both a smile as we pass. It widens as I meet her gaze, and she doesn’t have to speak the words for me to hear them.Good luck.
Steven has the car ready for us outside. “Mr. St. Clair,” he says, opening the door. “Mrs. St. Clair.”
Victor’s hand pauses on the hood of the car. The name hangs in the air between us. Mr. and Mrs. Is he about to protest?
But then he folds his tall length into the car and I follow, stretching out my legs. Knot my hands together to keep them from shaking.
I’ve done crazy and challenging things before. I’ve worked long hours, I’ve traveled with both Tristan and Victor for work, I’ve had no problem making last-minute phone calls demanding they get the last suite or a table at a fully booked restaurant.
I can do this.
I look over, only to see Victor’s gaze resting on my hands. On the rings on my left finger. I can’t decipher the expression on his face.
“Everything all right?”
He looks up, blue eyes meeting mine. They look dark in the dim lighting of the car. “There’s something you should know about the guests tonight.”
“There is?”
“Have you met my business partners? Apart from Conway.”
I shake my head. The times I’d patched through their calls didn’t count, nor the times I’d seen them walk through the Exciteur hallway to visit St. Clair.
“Well then. You won’t have a problem with Carter. He talks more than is good for anyone, particularly himself.”
“Oh. Right.”
“But Winter is going blind.”
I blink at him. “Winter? Anthony Winter?”
“Yes. It’s noticeable now.”
