Page 33 of If the Ring Fits

My phone buzzes in my bag with a new text.

Adrian

I’m already inside.

My stomach coils with nerves and anticipation. After two days of living under the same roof, I’m going to come face to face with the enigmatic Mr. West again.

So far, he’s been a ghost in his own penthouse, leaving before I wake and returning long after I’m asleep. Apart from the day I moved in, we haven’t had any contact.

Except maybe last night. I had dozed off on the couch, but when I startled awake at 3a.m., a soft cashmere blanket was draped over me, cocooning me in warmth. Did Adrian put it there? At the thought of him tucking me in, a warm current corkscrews up my spine.

I shake my head, not wanting to read too much into the gesture. So, he caught me drooling on his couch and covered me with a blanket. It’s basic human decency. Doesn’t mean anything. Our relationship is strictly business. Adrian needs a pregnant wife, and I need to be able to afford to live in New York as a single parent. Simple as that.

I give my dress one last tug and march toward the gleaming glass doors, my footsteps lost in the bustle of Fifth Avenue. A gloved doorman ushers me inside with a polite nod. “Good afternoon, miss.”

“Afternoon,” I respond brightly, despite my jangling nerves.

I step into Tiffany’s, taking in the gleaming expanse of the jewelry shop. Light hardwood floors stretch out before me, the marble and glass display cases sparkling under the carefully positioned spotlights. Diamonds and precious gems wink at me from every direction, but despite the eye-catching baubles, my gaze snags on Adrian. A different kind of black diamond.

He’s standing by a display case, deep in conversation with a shop assistant. Jaw-droppingly handsome as always in a dark tailored suit, he looks at home amidst the glittering luxury of Tiffany’s.

I sit at the opposite end of the spectrum. The one where I feel like an underdressed fraud in my simple cotton frock. Too late to go back home to change, so I’ll just have to fake it till I make it.

I approach them, forcing a shy smile. “Hi.”

Adrian turns at the sound of my voice and does a double take, dark eyes widening almost imperceptibly as they swipe over me. “Rowena. You look… lovely.”

A flush rises to my cheeks at the compliment. Adrian has never seen me in a dress and with a touch of makeup highlighting my eyes—and not turning me into a raccoon like the day we met. Does he really think I’m lovely or is it just a polite remark he’d offer to anyone?

“Thanks,” I mumble, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear self-consciously.

“Hello, welcome to Tiffany’s!” The perfectly coiffed blonde saleswoman Adrian was talking to glides over to me to introduce herself. “I’m Danielle. And you must be the lucky bride-to-be?”

Morefor hirethan lucky, but…details. “Rowena, nice to meet you.”

“Your fiancé was just telling me you’re shopping for an engagement ring; may I show you a few options?”

Adrian flashes her a dazzling smile. “We would love you to.”

“Of course! Right this way, please.” Danielle turns and starts across the wide foyer, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor.

Adrian extends an arm and, after a moment’s hesitation, I slip my hand into the crook of his elbow, allowing him to escort me further into the glittering wonderland of Tiffany’s.

The shop assistant guides us over to a plush velvet seating area. “Let me first explain some of our most popular styles.” From a locked drawer she takes out a black case whose interior is divided into tiny squares, each occupied by a loose gemstone.

As I sink into the seat, I try to project self-confidence as if I regularly get shown to private booths to buy diamond rings.

Danielle launches into her pitch, rattling off a dizzying array of diamond cuts. “The Round Brilliant is our most classic style, with its fifty-seven facets to optimize sparkle. Then we have our patented Tiffany True cut, as well as cushion, princess, emerald, pear shape…”

My eyes glaze over as she points to each glittering stone. They’re all so huge. How much would Adrian have to shell out for one of these rocks?

“…of course, clarity and color are important factors as well,” Danielle continues eagerly. “We only sell diamonds graded VS1 or higher, and D through G on the color scale for that icy white appearance that Tiffany’s is known for.”

Icy is exactly what these stones feel to me. Beautiful but cold. Like Adrian’s penthouse.

Danielle turns to me expectantly. “So, do you have any particular preferences in terms of style? Would you prefer a solitaire or halo or trilogy?”

“Err…” My mind goes blank. I have no freaking clue. I glance helplessly at Adrian, silently begging him to take the lead on this.

---