Page 9 of Peaceful Chaos

He pulls open the door and the bell chimes, alerting the salesperson inside to our arrival. A young woman comes out from the back, a genuine smile stretching across her face when she sees him walk in.

I groan under my breath, but I can't really blame her. My husband is a beautiful man, six-two, dark wavy hair and eyes as dark as the shadows he used to hide in. His allure is more than the way he moves with a lethal grace, muscles rippling under his tight black t-shirt and worn denim, but I'm probably the only woman to see past it.

Of course I see how devastatingly handsome he is. I have eyes. But I also see tenderness when he looks at me. I see the fierce loyalty he gives to my brother and our new friends. When I look at him, I just see so much more. I see everything.

She leans against the glass counter, conveniently displaying the lace edge of her bra and the small swell of her breasts. "How can I serve you today?"

She’s purposefully ignoring me. The innuendo in her question doesn’t escape me, and it sets my teeth on edge. Like I feared, women are drawn to him. He can’t help it, but it doesn’t make it easier to watch.

I put my left hand on the counter in front of her and move into her line of sight. "You can start by getting your tits out of my husband's face."

His hands move around my waist, holding me against him. He chuckles, and it rumbles against my back. His breath tickles my ear as he leans down to whisper, "I told you a ring was necessary."

Directing his dark gaze at the sales lady, he says, "I'd like to get an engagement ring for my wife."

"A little backwards, isn't it?" she grumbles.

For the first time she looks at me. She isn’t a threat, but she’s the type of woman who sees other women as competition. I guess feminism and sisterhood are foreign concepts to her. Apparently, so is marriage.

"Sasha," a gentleman chides as he enters the salesroom. "Please forgive my niece. She's new and clearly needs to work on her customer service skills."

She tosses her hair over her shoulder and gives Sin one last lingering look. She mumbles something under her breath that sounds like, “What a waste,” but I can’t be sure.

Her uncle stares horrified at her as she flees to the back of the store.

I roll my eyes. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not the first time a woman has temporarily lost her mind around my husband. I’m getting used to it.”

Sin looks adorably confused. Sometimes I forget that neither of us have much experience out in the real world.

"Are you the young man I spoke to earlier about our selection of engagement rings?"the shopkeeper asks Sin.

Sin nods, and we follow him to the other side of the store where he starts pulling out velvet trays full of diamond rings. I've never entertained fantasies about getting married. I didn't daydream about what my wedding would be like, and I certainly didn't imagine what ring I’d have. Even without any preconceived notions to battle with, none of the sparkling diamonds calls out to me.

It seems Sin feels the same as he passes tray after tray without lingering. "I need something bigger, flashier."

"These are great for couples just starting out," the man protests.

"I can afford it," Sin insists.

I want to protest, tell him I don't need it, but he does. More trays appear from the display box, and we repeat the process. Again he dismisses them all. It's clear while I don't have an image of the perfect ring, he does.

The third batch threatens to go the same way until suddenly he stops. "Princess, come look at this."

At first I only see larger versions of the rings presented earlier, until my eyes land on a ring that is the perfect symbol for Sin and I. It's got a traditional style, with scrollwork on the band and small diamonds set in the swirls. The center stone is large, but not comically so. "Is that a sapphire?"

"It's a rare blue diamond. This ring was made in the 1920's and stayed in the same family for generations, until there was no one left to pass it down to. An older man sold it to me last week, asking only that it be sold to a couple meant to last."

Sin looks at me and his onyx eyes sparkle with excitement. "Do you like it?" It's clear he does.

I open my mouth to answer, but my throat feels thick with emotion. I have to swallow a few times to push out words no louder than a whisper. "I love it," is all I can manage to squeeze out.

"We'll take it," he says to the salesman.

"Let's see if it needs to be sized," the shopkeeper says and drops it into Sin's hand.

He slips it onto my finger, and it's a perfect fit. "I guess it was meant to be," he murmurs, and I know he means more than the ring.

"All of it?" I ask, forgetting where we are, and that there are people around.

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