Page 13 of If the Ring Fits

“I’ll just take the subway. It’s only a few stops to my place. I’ll be fine now that the naus?—”

“Nonsense. My driver will take you.” His tone brooks no argument.

“Your driver?” I quirk a smirk. “How loaded are you, exactly?”

If his polished leather shoes and expensive-looking watch are an indication, he must be rolling in it.

Adrian gives an insouciant half-shrug. “I do alright for myself.”

He steps forward and for a deluded moment I think he’s going to hug me or something, but he merely brushes past me—still close enough for me to detect the smell of his aftershave, a rich and earthy scent that momentarily scrambles my brain cells. Yeah, BO won’t be a problem.

Bending down, he scoops up the cardboard box containing the riffraff I kept in my cubicle. “Shall we?”

I trail after him, marveling at the strangeness of it all as we exit the restroom. Adrian West, my investment banker inshining armor, escorts me to his luxury motorized stallion. The sleek black town car is already waiting parallel parked at the curb when we step outside, gleaming under the late afternoon sun.

So this is how the other half lives, I think to myself.

Adrian pulls open the rear door and sets my box on the leather seat before turning back to me. “Tell Sam your address. He’ll take you wherever you need to go.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it.” I hesitate with one hand on the door frame. “For all of this. The ride, and well, you know…”

“The impromptu marriage proposal?” he offers.

“That too.” I duck my head to get into the car.

Adrian’s expression sobers. “I’ll be in touch soon. Take it easy in the meantime, you’ve had a long day.”

“That’s an understatement,” I mutter. With a parting nod, I slide into the buttery soft rear seat. “Thanks again. Bye, I guess.”

He gives me a small smile and shuts the door with a solid thump, rapping twice on the roof.

As the car pulls away from the curb and merges into traffic, I twist around to peer out the back window. Adrian stands on the sidewalk, an imposing figure in his dark suit, watching us drive off. My stomach does a little flip that doesn’t seem vomit-related for once. He disappears as we turn a corner, and I face forward again, slumping against the seat with a shuddery exhale.

Wow. I’m sitting in a car that must cost more than my yearly salary. With a box of my pitiful desk whatnots. Because I just got fired. And then proposed to by a stranger. A millionaire from the looks of it. To be his wife. His fake, contractual wife precisely, but still.

I glance out the window at the blur of signs and shop windows whizzing by. It feels like a metaphor for how quickly my life has spun off in a new direction. In a few hours, everything familiar is shrinking behind me as I careen into the unknown.

Resting my forehead against the cool glass of the window, I close my eyes and try to slow my racing thoughts. The only certainty: life as I knew it is already just a memory. I’m hurtling down an unbeaten path, destination unclear.

Goodbye, old life. Let’s see what the future holds.

8

ROWENA

We get stuck in a bit of traffic, and by the time Adrian’s sleek black car pulls up to the curb in front of my building, it’s already past five. At once, Sam exits from his side and comes to open my door. I thank him and I’m about to pull out the box with my office stuff when I glimpse Hunter rounding the corner, her dark wavy hair bouncing with each step as she walks home from work. My heart leaps into my throat. I shove the cardboard box back onto the seat, desperate to hide the evidence of my disastrous day.

Giving Sam one last, weary nod, I slide out and force a smile as I greet my roommate. “Hey.”

Hunter’s eyes widen as she takes in the luxury vehicle and personal chauffeur idling behind me. She lets out a low whistle. “Well, well. Look at you, Miss Fancy Pants. What’s with the limo service?”

“It’s not a limo, just a… nice car.” I glance at Sam, mortified. But Adrian’s driver smiles warmly and wishes me a good evening before returning to his post at the wheel.

Hunter and I watch him as he speeds away into traffic.

“So?” my roommate prompts.

“It’s a long story.”

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