Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107917 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 540(@200wpm)___ 432(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107917 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 540(@200wpm)___ 432(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
“What’s wrong with that?” I take a step toward her.
“He’s not right for me. And if he knew the real me, he’d be gone. Think about it. He’s like Mr. Perfect, does everything by the rules, and well—” she looks down at the floor “—I’m not, and I don’t have any plans to be. In fact, I’ve got plans that...” She trails off, and my heart clenches for her.
I want to tell her to let whatever plans she has go, but I know that will get me nowhere fast. In fact, it might get me pushed away from her in areas of her life I’ve been trying to push in on lately. Ones she’s been keeping hidden. The part that makes Paige, well, Paige.
The door suddenly opens, making us both turn to see Oz and Captain standing in the doorway. Paige freezes. I walk over to Oz. “Sorry. Needed help fixing something on my dress,” I say, making my way toward the men. I take Oz’s hand.
“Will you show me the auction now, or are you going to keep me in the corner all night?”
He pulls me toward him once again, gluing me to his side.
“As long as you don’t leave my side again.”
“Deal.”
We walk past Captain, who steps out of the way for us.
“Got a little something.” I point to my mouth, and he reaches up, wiping it away. I have to bite back a smile as he removes the lipstick. Paige follows us out, then pushes out in front of us, putting as much space as she can between her and Captain.
As we make our way over to the auction tables, Oz has to stop a few times to talk to various people as we look at the different items. He seems so much colder and more clinical with others. I hadn’t really noticed it before. Probably because it’s usually him and me, and we can be ourselves. It’s amazing to me to see the difference in him. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like that only I get the sweeter side of Oz. As we move down, we get to an antique ring, and I can’t seem to pull my eyes away from it. The center stone is square and deep blue. There are small diamonds surrounding it, and it sparkles under the light. The blue is the exact same color as Oz’s eyes. It’s got to be the most beautiful sapphire I’ve ever seen.
“You like it?” he asks.
“It’s beautiful.” I almost choke when I pick up the information card about it. The bid starts at four million dollars.
The card proclaims it to be the Devotion Stone, and I flip it over to look at the other side. There’s a note about the history of the ring.
This ring was given to Abigail Richmond by her beloved, Baron Frederick de Mandeville. They were married in secret in 1885 because she was the daughter of a farmer, and his family didn’t approve. Frederick gave Abigail the two-carat sapphire before renouncing his title and choosing to live a modest life in the country with his wife. After 44 years of marriage, Abigail passed away on October 2nd, 1929, and Frederick de Mandeville is said to have died the next day of a broken heart. The ring has been donated by the surviving estate.
“Oh, that’s so sad,” I say, putting the card back.
Oz runs his nose along the column of my neck. “Why is that sad? Sounds sweet to me.”
“I don’t know. He loved her so much. The ring should find the same kind of love again. Not be up in some auction. But I guess the money will do a lot of good though.” I turn, looking up at him. He brings me more into his body, and I wish we were home. Alone. Not so many eyes on us. They all seem to be lingering.
“Everyone is staring at you,” I tell him.
“No, they’re staring at you,” he corrects, and I can hear his underlying irritation.
“Take me home then? Where only you can look at me.”
“Fuck yes.” He grabs my hand, pulling us through the ballroom, and I can’t help but laugh. He uses his other hand to pull out his cell phone, telling his driver to pull around. I’ve wanted to leave almost from the moment we got here, and not because I felt a little out of place. But because Oz’s whole territorial act seems to get me worked up. In every way. I really can’t let him know that little piece of information, but I think he might already suspect it.
We come to a dead stop, and I nearly run into Oz’s back when we enter the lobby of the ballroom. Oz’s hand clasps mine tighter, and I follow his line of sight to see Paige talking to an older man with short dark hair. As if stopping in the middle of his sentence, he turns a little and his eyes land on us. The same eyes I’d recognize anywhere now. Sapphire blue.