Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 104532 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 523(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104532 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 523(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Her flinch is minute, but I notice it.
“So what?” she says. “Do you have to make a statement by getting a more expensive wedding ring?”
I smile. “The wedding ring stays. I made my vows with that ring, and it’ll remain on your finger until the day you blow out your last breath.”
A look of wow comes over her face, but it’s not the good kind of wow. “Thanks for enlightening me. I may have missed the statement you so clearly intended with our wedding rings.”
“I’m glad I could clear it up for you.” I’m not going to apologize for marrying her with a price knockdown. She sold herself cheap when she stole my work.
Her jaw tightens. “If I’m dying with this cheap ring on my finger, why are you getting another one from your brother? The last time I checked, his rings were notoriously expensive.”
“You’ve checked, have you? Before or after you married me?”
Her nostrils flare. “Before. I happened to page through some of my mom’s glossy magazines.”
Getting her worked up before picking out a ring isn’t my intention either. “We’re going to see Damian for an engagement ring. You have ten minutes to change, unless you’re happy to go barefoot and dressed in an old high school T-shirt.”
There’s nothing wrong with her clothes. She looks classy no matter what she wears. I just know enough about women to know she may not feel comfortable in Damian’s fancy office if she thinks she’s dressed down.
“Do I have a choice?” she asks, her eyes spitting fire.
“No,” I drawl. “Nine minutes.”
Making a frustrated sound, she storms from the room.
My chuckle is humorless. Great going. It’s not how I envisioned this outing to be starting. I just can’t help being a prick. My ego is still too raw.
While she gets ready, I put in my weekly online order of groceries for a home delivery, adding a few items Violet may enjoy. When she comes downstairs dressed in a simple white dress with ballerina flats and her hair piled in its usual messy bun on her head, I make use of the opportunity to give her the new credit card and cell phone I ordered.
“These are for you.”
She looks at the card and phone on the counter.
“Your old phone was due for an upgrade,” I continue. “There’s no limit on the card, so you can pay for whatever you need.”
“Very trusting of you,” she says with a good dose of sarcasm.
“Having money and a means of communication are vital to your safety,” I point out. “I’d hate for you to get stuck somewhere without a penny to your name.”
Since she doesn’t make a move to take either of the items, I slip a finger underneath the strap of her handbag on her shoulder and hold her eyes with a smile as I drop the bag and catch it in my hand. She glares at me when I take out her old phone and shove it into my pocket before sliding the black card into her wallet.
“Your new ID card and driver’s license should be ready by next week.” I hang the bag back on her shoulder. “I took advantage to order a passport for you at the same time, seeing that you didn’t have one.”
“My new ID card?”
“With your new surname.” Which fills me with no small measure of satisfaction.
“Of course.” Her smile is tight. “How could I forget? I suppose I owe you a thank you for taking care of it.”
Ignoring her biting tone, I say, “It’s my pleasure.”
If looks could kill, I’d be dead ten times over. Interlacing our fingers, I lock up and lead her to my car.
In less than forty minutes, we park in Damian’s building and go through his impressive security check before we’re showed into a showroom with jewelry displayed behind glass cabinets and a lounge area in the center. A bottle of champagne sits in an ice bucket on the table. We take a seat on the baroque style sofa and wait in silence.
A minute later, my brother enters with a tall, willowy man in tow.
“Violet,” he says, inclining his head in greeting but refraining from touching her. “It’s good to see you again.”
Taking her elbow, I help her to her feet.
“This is my designer, Tony,” Damian continues.
The tall man nods.
“He’ll show you around and tell you more about our designs and the inspiration behind them.” Damian catches my gaze and motions toward the door. “We’ll give you a minute.”
Leaving Violet in Tony’s care, I follow Damian outside.
The ground floor lobby looks a lot like the one on the upper floor outside Damian’s office. African art hangs on the walls and reflect on the shiny marble floor. The showroom is in a private reception area and visits are on appointment only. We’re alone in the spacious lobby.
“Brother,” he says drily, shoving his hands in his pockets.