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No matter what, I’m going to Sam’s birthday party. Even if I’m still here and we’re married. I’ll figure out a way.
We arrive at Crest Diamonds, and a man in a suit opens the car door for Kieran. “Hello, Mr. O’Rourke. Your sister reserved the private viewing room for you and your fiancée.”
“Thank you.” Kieran helps me out, and I expect him to let go of my hand. But he doesn’t. In fact, he tightens his grip.
“Hello.” The man bows his head to me.
I think of what Kieran said to me last night about being a queen. I lower my head in faint acknowledgment. Stores like this cater to the rich and powerful. I grew up rich, but not feeling very powerful. If I marry Kieran, that will change overnight.
We walk inside, and the smell of fresh linen with a hint of citrus soothes me. All eyes land on us as we stroll past glass cases filled with sparkling diamonds. No, the eyes are on Kieran.
I think of his bold confession about using a sex club and whores. Not to disparage any of the very pretty women who work here, but any one of them can be a part-time sex worker and could have slept with Kieran. Does he remember the women he bangs? Does he even look at their faces, or does he bend them over and take them from behind?
I consider whether canceling his sex club membership is something I really should demand. If just to assert myself. That I won’t be made a fool of. But what the hell will he want from me in return? The same rough, dirty sex he gets from strangers?
A shiver runs through me as I consider it. But will he respect me if I let him tie me up and violate me like a whore? I want his respect, either way, but I doubt I’ll get love from him.
We enter a private viewing room, and it’s an elegant suite with a white-lacquered desk and two posh chairs in a butter-colored jacquard fabric. Against the wall is a sofa in the same fabric, but navy blue. I picture the brides who go down on their fiancés to get bigger rings.
I swear, my six-inch heels sink into ultra-plush carpeting that is the color of fresh-fallen snow. The walls are wood panels, painted silver, and the grains sparkle like diamonds. The room takes my breath away, it’s so elegant. My house reeked of gaudiness. This is chic. If I get a chance to design my own home, this is what I would want.
Picking out the engagement ring was easy. They showed me several large diamonds and gorgeous settings. Emotionless, Kieran said I could have whatever I wanted. To be honest, that got more rise out of the saleslady than me. I’m being forced to marry him and wear his ring. Still, I’m a girl, so I chose a five-carat emerald-shaped diamond with a two-carat halo setting.
That, combined with the wedding ring—dozens of small, round stones set on a platinum band—takes up nearly half my finger. The weight, too, symbolizes Kieran’s strength over me.
So he thinks…
“Sir, for you?” The saleslady lays a velvet tray with several chunky men’s wedding rings in front of Kieran.
He waves her off. “None for me.”
“None for you?” I snap. “You’re not wearing a wedding ring?”
“It’s not a custom in my family for the man to wear a ring. My father never wore one.”
“How did people know he was married?” I sit back and cross my legs.
He lowers one dark eyebrow at me. “My mother walking around Astoria pregnant for over ten years straight was a hint.” He attempts to make a joke.
I don’t want to argue, but I won’t insult the man’s mother. I’m ready to just shrug this off, but something claws at me to fight. If I wanted to marry this man, especiallythisman, this god of a man, whose beauty clocks in at a twenty-five on a scale of one to ten, then I would want to brand him with a ring, like he’s doing to me.
Plus, giving up so easily may tip him off that I’m looking for a way out of this.
“No.” I shake my head. “That won’t work for me. This no-ring business. We’re starting a new tradition. You’ll wear a ring.” I point to the velvet tray. “Which is the most expensive?”
“Isabella,” Kieran hisses.
The saleslady clears her throat but looks atmewhen she speaks, giving me a taste of superiority for a split second. “It’s this one, but if I may offer my expertise, having worked with plenty of couples like yourselves.”
I chuckle low in my belly. I doubt she’s had a couple likeus. “Go on.”
“A man like your fiancé, who does not usually wear rings, would be more comfortable in something like this.” From the tray, she takes out a matte platinum band. “This is called a link edge. Its open design is breathable for new grooms who aren’t used to rings.” She gives Kieran a knowing look.
I gently take the ring from her. “This is gorgeous and elegant.” I hold it up. Perhaps my being excited about it will spark some excitement in him. “Like you,” I whisper and hold my breath, thinking he’ll explode for sassing him.
Kieran only grunts. “This is fine.” But he takes the ring, and after a long look at it, he lifts his gaze to me. “You really like it?”
“I do.” I give him a wide smile. “I think it’s sexy even.”
