Page 31 of If the Ring Fits

I’m suddenly very aware that we’re alone in a house withno less than five beds. Not that we will use them, I remind myself. At least not together. I’ll sleep in my room, he’ll sleep in his. And we’ll live platonically ever after.

Oblivious to my inner meltdown, Adrian shrugs out of his suit jacket, revealing a crisp white shirt that stretches across his broad shoulders. He drapes the jacket over a chair and moves toward the couch, loosening his tie further until it hangs slack around his neck.

I try not to stare at the triangle of tanned skin exposed by his open collar as he settles on the opposite end of the sofa from where I was sitting. Even slouched against the cushions, his tall frame is commanding. He rakes a hand through his dark hair and rolls his neck from side to side, clearly trying to unwind from a long day.

I perch back down, unsure whether I should stay and attempt to chat or give him space.

I clear my throat softly, hoping to break the silence without startling him. “Did your meeting go well?” I venture, keeping my tone light and conversational.

Adrian’s eyes flutter open, and he turns his head to look at me, a wry smile unzipping lazily from the corner of his mouth. “Yeah.”

Concise, to the point, he probably doesn’t want to make conversation with me—another piece of business he’s been forced to bring home.

I’m about to excuse myself to my room when he stretches his long legs out in front of him, crossing them at the ankles. “Is it okay if we discuss a few things now or are you tired?”

Nope.Apparently, Adrian West never rests. He is business, business, business. I mentally snap my finger three times.

I settle down on the cushions. “Sure.”

“This week we need to go shop for a ring.” He whips out his phone from his pocket. “I can make time Tuesday afternoon.”

Oh, so we’re scheduling life-changing decisions like they’re dentist appointments?

I duck my head to hide my disappointment. “My calendar is wide open, so Tuesday works for me.”

Adrian seems to sense my discomfort and speaks more carefully as he says, “Sam will pick you up and bring you to me.”

Despite his softer tone, I feel like one of those virgins in auction romances being brought to their captor for deflowering. Except, I’m no virgin—as the baby in my uterus testifies—and I’m here of my free will.

“Anything else?” I ask, trying to keep it together.

“Yes.”

Of course there’s more.

“Friday we leave for the Hamptons to spend the weekend at my boss’s house,” Adrian continues. “We should talk before that and define a few details. Like how we met, how I proposed, and so on.” I nod. A bathroom meet-puke probably wouldn’t fly in his circles. “I can do dinner on…” He scrolls his calendar again. “Thursday night.”

“Sure.” I nod.

I discreetly spy his screen as he types “dinner with Rowena” into his phone and allots an hour for the event.

We’re mapping out our future in thirty-minute slots. I wonder what will happen if the conversation runs late; will he ask me to reschedule?

Adrian puts away his phone and looks up at me. And nothing in his gaze fixed over me feels businesslike. “Sam drives me to work and back every day, and if I have meetings in the city, but other than that, he’s at your disposal. If you needto go anywhere just buzz the doorman, and Sam will be waiting for you downstairs.”

I have a doorman, a personal driver, a chef, two cleaning ladies… what else?

“I’ve ordered a credit card for you; it should arrive tomorrow.”

Ah, money. Of course he’s also giving me an allowance.

I’m getting more uncomfortable with this conversation by the second. “A credit card?”

“Yeah, to buy clothes, groceries, stuff for the baby… whatever you need.”

I feel utterly shitty asking the next part, like I’m a mix between a kept woman and a teenager negotiating with her parents for pocket money. “Okay… err… how much can I spend?”

Adrian raises an eyebrow at that. “The card limit is twenty K a month.”

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