Page 38 of A Forgotten Promise

“No complaints here,” Celeste murmurs.

Cora chuckles. “Celeste married to get her visa. You to get your trust fund. Perhaps I should marry to make this business profitable?”

“You can make this business profitable without a man,” I retort, annoyed by her summary.

Celeste might have married to gain something, but what she ended up gaining was love.

I may just gain ulcers from the stress of being around the man.Your teeth are not sharp enough, The Morrigan.

How does he deliver a threat, an insult, and stand up for me, all in one meeting? Asshole.

A gust of wind swooshes through the restaurant, and a delivery man looks around and heads to the counter.

Sanjay immediately points to our table. I completely forgot about my call with Vito.

“Saar van den Linden?” The man asks.

“That’s me.”

He leaves as soon as I sign for a small cube-shaped box.

My friends crane their heads. It’s not from Betsy. It’s from Cormac. I rip off the tape and pull out a small black box. A ring-bearing jewelry box.

Of course, he takes any opportunity to remind me this is just business.

I shake my head and snap it open. Glancing down at the solitaire, my stomach turns. It’s absurd. No, it’s obscene.

The diamond is the size of a small country. It catches the light in every direction, sparkling like it’s trying to outshine the sun itself, as if this entire charade could be masked by the brilliance of one ridiculous rock.

I take it out of the box. Fuck, it’s heavy. Just like everything about this transaction. For some outlandish reason, I slide it on my finger. The delicate platinum band wraps around my finger like a trap, cold and hard.

I could probably buy a house with this thing—or a small island, maybe. He could’ve gone for something understated, something that wouldn’t scream fake from a mile away. But of course, he wouldn’t do anything subtle.

It’s like he wants everyone to know exactly how much power he has, how much control. However fake our relationship is, this ring isn’t a symbol of commitment—it’s a symbol of ownership.

And it’s glaring at me from my hand like a taunt. Is this his response to my ridiculous wedding plans?

“Well, a romantic he is not.” Celeste snorts. “And kind of careless to just send it over. You might need a bodyguard to wear that thing.”

“That thing is going to break your finger.” Lily leans across the table to have a better look. “It must be at least ten carats.”

“How would you know?” Cora peeks at my hand. “It’s blinding.”

I yank the ring off my finger and return it to the box. I’m not sure what he was trying to prove, but I’m sure I don’t like it.

Again, I feel like he won a round. And where does that leave me?

Moneyless. Jobless. Simply less. Cormac Quinn’s fake fiancée.

Chapter 7

Corm

“Here you go, sir. Enjoy your evening; your server will be with you in a moment.” The hostess smiles and leaves.

My eyes clash with The Morrigan’s, and by the looks of it, she’s not thrilled about my lateness. Or about my existence in general.

I almost sit down, but then I remember Betsy hasaccidentalbystanders spread around here to take secret footage of our date, so I step closer and lean in, bracing my arm on her backrest.

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