Page 55 of Claiming Pretty

“Relax, hummingbird,” Ty murmured, his voice low and teasing as we reached the front steps of the Hallowstone agency. His arm slung possessively around my shoulders, making me shiver. “You’re supposed to look like you love me.”

The problem was, I wasn’t sure I was faking it.

Ciaran hadn’t wanted me to do this.

Neither had I.

But we didn’t have any other choice. Ciaran was the only one who could hack into the files, and someone had to distract the director so he could get into her office.

That someone was me and Ty, pretending to be a happy, hopeful couple looking to adopt.

The Hallowstone agency loomed before us, a relic of Victorian grandeur, its facade imposing, constructed of dark stone that seemed to absorb the weak sunlight filtering through the overcast sky. Ivy crept along the weathered brick, its tendrils clawing at the tall, arched windows framed by black wrought-iron grilles.

A steep, gabled roof crowned the building, its slate shingles faded and cracked with age. A pair of stone gargoyles perched at either side of the entrance, their grotesque faces twisted in eternal sneers as if daring us to step closer.

Ty helped me up the creaky steps to the porch, framed by ornate, gothic columns, their intricate carvings depicting thorny roses and skeletal branches that twisted together like a macabre tapestry.

The brass doorbell gleamed against the agency’s dark, weathered door, a sharp contrast to the gothic decay around it.

I reached for it, but Ty’s hand darted out, gently gripping my wrist and stopping me in my tracks.

“Hold on,” he said softly, his tone unusually tentative.

I frowned, my hand hovering midair. “What is it?”

Ty slipped his free hand into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box.

My breath hitched, my pulse racing as the weight of the moment sank in.

“Almost forgot this,” he murmured, flicking it open with a smooth, practiced motion.

Inside was an antique engagement ring, the kind of thing that seemed too perfect to exist outside of dreams.

A massive marquise-cut diamond gleamed in the faint light, surrounded by delicate clusters of smaller stones that caught every hint of sunlight.

It was stunning. Unique and timeless. Exactly what I would have picked out for myself.

My throat tightened, and when I tried to speak, only a string of stammered sounds came out.

Ty chuckled, a rare sound that sent an unwelcomewarmth curling through me. He plucked the ring from its velvet nest.

His usual stoic mask was gone, replaced with something achingly raw. His cheeks flushed pink, and his lips curled in a smile so tender it felt like a punch to my chest.

I hadn’t even realized I’d lifted my hand until I felt the cool weight of the ring sliding over my finger. I tilted my hand, the diamond catching the dull afternoon light, and my heart slammed against my ribs.

For a fleeting moment, I let myself imagine what it would be like to have a normal life. To be a woman who said yes to an uncomplicated proposal from an uncomplicated man. Who cried with joy and never from the memories of her buried darkness. Who imagined a simple forever with someone who didn’t carry a soul full of scars.

My fingers pressed to my lips as I whispered, “It’s beautiful.”

“You deserve nothing less,” Ty replied, his voice low, his words reverent.

I tore my gaze from the ring and looked up at him, but the lightness of his earlier smile had vanished, replaced with that intensity I could never escape.

My breath faltered under his stare, and I searched for something—anything—to break the spell.

“It looks real,” I blurted out.

“It is,” he said simply.

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