Page 36 of Forbidden Dark Vows

“I’m enjoying it greatly. Thank you.” It must show.

“Ah, an American accent. Let me guess.” His eyes roam my clothes, my face, the cast on my arm. “You’re a New Yorker.”

“How did you know? Is it that obvious?”

“I’ve spent my life studying people.” He reaches under the counter and pulls out a velvet pad filled with diamond rings.“And diamonds. Now, if I might take the liberty of making a suggestion, I do believe that this is the ring you are looking for.”

I peer down at the ring he is offering to me. It’s a heart-shaped diamond, the facets like tiny, magnificent icicles trapped inside the huge sparkling heart. I had no idea what I was looking for, or the kind of engagement ring that Ruby would like before I stepped inside the shop. But now that I’ve seen it, I’m absolutely certain that this ring was meant for Ruby Jackson.

I hold it tentatively, marveling at the way the diamond catches the light as I turn it around. It’s mesmerizing and made even more so when I imagine it on Ruby’s finger.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” The man finds a small velvet lined box in a drawer and leaves it open on the counter. “I can make the ring larger or smaller if the fit isn’t quite right.”

“I’ll take it.” I didn’t expect it to be this easy, but I’m learning. Everything is easy where Ruby is concerned because we’re cut from the same mold.

With the engagement ring ensconced safely in its box in my pocket, I find a tiny café on a narrow side street and order breakfast bagels and coffees to go. I’m literally floating down the streets, hovering above the frosty ground like I’m riding a magic carpet. I’ve not slept more than a couple of hours, and yet I feel as if I could run a marathon today with the heart-shaped diamond close to my chest.

I’m riding so high on excitement and adrenaline that I don’t even notice the cop car parked outside the hotel entrance.

Carrying our breakfast, I walk into the lobby, my stomach rocking when I spot two policemen, their backs to me, speaking to the concierge at the front desk. It’s okay, I tell myself. Theycould be here for any number of reasons, and Ruby and I have done nothing wrong.

Still, I don’t wait for the elevator but take the stairs up to our room, not waiting around to be noticed. My heart is thumping. Why would the cops be looking for us? The concierge has my credit card details; we’ve not broken any regulations; we both have valid passports. It’s irrational, but I can’t shake the notion that they’re looking for us.

I hear the phone in the room ringing as I let myself back in.

Ruby rolls over in bed, a bare arm snaking out from under the covers to answer the call before I can stop her. I hear her say, “Hello,” into the mouthpiece, and I put our breakfast down, sitting on the edge of the bed, still in my coat.

Ruby smiles at me, affection gleaming in her eyes. But the smile fades as rapidly as it appeared, confusion knitting her brows together. “Okay, sure,” she says to the concierge. “Let me get dressed, and then we’ll be down.”

She replaces the handset and sits up in bed, clutching the sheet to her breasts. “That was the concierge. The police are looking for me.”

I blink, trying to process this information. “For you, or for both of us?”

“Just me. He said my name, Ruby Jackson. He wants me to go down and speak to them.” Her voice is dull as if a single phone call has sucked the life out of it.

This is wrong. All wrong. I have a diamond ring in my pocket. I was going to give it to her while we ate breakfast in bed. Thiswas supposed to be the happiest day of our lives, so why do I suddenly feel as if the universe has other plans for us?

“Did he say what they want?”

Ruby pushes back the covers and slides her legs over the side of the bed. The clothes she wore yesterday are still strewn across the bathroom floor where we left them last night, but she grabs some panties from her backpack and drags them on followed by clean jeans and a sweater.

Her movements are urgent. Hurried. She grabs her stuff, whatever she can find, and shoves it into her backpack, and I wonder if this is the reason she didn’t hang her clothes in the wardrobe and make herself at home. She was waiting for this to happen.

“Ruby, what’s going on?” I haven’t moved. I’m still clutching our breakfast, the engagement ring burning a hole in my side through my pocket.

“We need to leave.” She darts into the bathroom and collects her discarded clothes. “Now.”

She scans the room to see what she has forgotten, and when I still don’t move, she drags my suitcase out of the wardrobe, unzips it, and starts tossing my clothes in, hangers clattering onto the floor.

I empty the drawers with one hand, sweeping them clear, and depositing my belongings into my luggage. Her sense of urgency is contagious. “Do you want to tell me why we’re leaving?”

“My mom. She must’ve put the police up to this.”

I straighten, a rolled-up tie in my hand.Why did I pack a tie for chrissakes!

“But you told her you were leaving. It’s not like you ran away.”

“I don’t think that matters.”

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