Page 83 of If the Ring Fits

Relief washes over her features. “Oh, um… I’m already pretty far along with the coding. I could have something ready in three weeks, tops.”

“Great. I’ve narrowed it down to two potential partners that would be a fantastic fit for your product.”

“Adrian, you’re amazing. I don’t know how you found the time. I’ll never be able to thank you enough.”

Despite her words, she shifts uncomfortably. “But?”

“But what if they start asking financial questions and I botch it like I did with you?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll come with you and cover the business side of things. You just focus on being the brilliant inventor you are.”

Rowena beams at me. “I… I…” She shakes her head as if too moved to speak. “Just, thank you.”

My blood hums in response. I’m showing up for her—I’m doing it. Maybe I can really be the partner she needs.

35

ROWENA

Twenty weeks pregnant

Adrian has been true to his word, and exactly a month after our second discussion of my project, after I’ve completed the demo, he’s accompanying me to meet the first potential partner: MC Toys.

With only ten days to go before the wedding, Adrian took time off work to be here with me. He’s been taking a lot of time off lately, coming to cake-tasting appointments and floral consultations, acting like a man who knows the difference between peonies and petunias—which he doesn’t, but bless his heart for trying. And a million other wedding-related errands I was sure he would have absolutely no interest in.

We’re both terribly busy with work, me developing my demo and him, doing his obscure finance stuff, but we have dinner together most nights and spend time with each other on the weekends.

Tragically, we still sleep in separate beds and he hasn’t triedto kiss me again. And as much as I’m not a prideful person, I lack the shamelessness to throw myself at him a third time. Two attempts to seduce him with zero success is a depressing enough score for me.

As we pull in front of MC’s office building, I take in the faded brick façade and minimal signage. Not quite what I expected for the headquarters of a billionaire’s new venture.

“This is it?” I turn to Adrian with a raised eyebrow as we climb out of the car.

He chuckles. “Don’t let appearances fool you. I hear Thomas Mercer is determined to make this a grassroots start-up, despite his family fortune.”

From what Adrian—and Google—have told me about Thomas Mercer, he’s the billionaire son of a billionaire, who recently left the family multi-billion enterprise to found a toy company.

Intrigued, I follow Adrian inside. The lobby is tidy but lacks any hint of extravagance—bare white walls, basic furniture, not a luxury fabric or gilded frame in sight.

“Whoa, when you said grassroots, you weren’t kidding,” I mutter, peering around at the minimalist space. “Not a penny wasted on décor, that’s for sure.”

“Exactly.” Adrian grins. “From what I’ve gleaned, Mercer wants to build this company from the ground up, relying on hard work and innovation rather than family money. Gotta respect that.”

So Thomas Mercer isn’t another rich kid playing with a new toy—pun intended— but a driven entrepreneur willing to roll up his sleeves. “You know what? I like him already.”

Right on cue, the man himself strides into the lobby to greet us. He is striking, tall and athletic with tousled dark-blond hair and a megawatt smile. The full force of his cheerful charisma hits me like a blast of warm summer air.

“Rowena, Adrian, welcome!” He shakes our hands warmly, guiding us inside an office. “So glad you could make it. I’d like you to meet my wife, Reese, the brains behind MC Toys.”

Beside him stands a beautiful woman with long brown hair streaked with pink. Her curious eyes give an impression of deep intelligence. She opens her mouth to speak but is cut off by a whirring sound.

To my amazement, a small robot zips forward, tripod legs clicking, metal claws snapping. Radar eyes swivel beneath a transparent dome as an electronic voice pipes up. “She might be the brains but I’m the star here!”

I laugh in delight at the pesky bot. “Well, hello there! And who are you?”

The robot swivels to attention. “I am an advanced kinematics precision pneumatics service droid, ready to assist.”

“He’s incorrigible.” Reese sighs in fond exasperation. “Please, just call him K2-P.”

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