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His head tilts. “And when is that?”
“I have no clue.”
“You really think she’s done with Oliver?”
“I’d say yes based on how she sold me her wedding ring before I encased it in a concrete tomb.”
His mouth falls open.
Shit.“It’s not that big of a deal.”
“You, the billionaire who considers eating out at a steakhouse a wasteful luxury, bought Dahlia’s engagement ring just so you could bury it in concrete?”
“One, I think steakhouses are overrated when I can cookthe same thing at my house for half the price; and two, it was worth it.”
Rafa drops his head into his hands. “I don’t know what to say to that.”
“Nothing is preferable.”
“How much did you pay for it?”
I don’t answer him.
“Julian.”
“A hundred.”
“Thousand?”
I rub the back of my neck. “Yeah.”
“Why?”
“I wanted to bury it in concrete.”
“I’m struggling to believe you’re the same guy who spent five years hyping himself up into buying a McLaren for double the cost of what you paid Dahlia for a cheap thrill.”
When he puts it that way, it sounds bad. I don’t act irrationally, especially when money is involved.
“Well, I always hated that ring.” The excuse sounds weak to my own ears.
Rafa’s deep sigh makes my stomach churn.
“What?”
“You say you’re over her, but your actions say the complete opposite.”
“Because I bought her ring?”
“Because ofwhyyou bought her ring.”
My frown stretches. “I was doing her a favor.”
“Keep telling yourself that.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Dahlia
