Page 35 of Bride By Coronation

"Ah. Forgive me," he says and sets it down.

I study the rows of diamonds again, trying to breathe through my panic.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to be rude. Can I get you a drink?" Ahmed questions.

"Maybe a water," I respond.

"One moment." He rises, disappears through the door, then returns with a glass of water and a smaller, gold metal box.

I down half the water and point at the box. "What's in there?"

His expression turns serious. He states, "There's one last diamond. Since you're marrying his daughter, I believe you should reconsider your declaration to keep it as a relic."

My stomach flips. I lock eyes with Ahmed, asking, "You mean Sean's ring?"

He nods. "Yes. The one reserved for Bridget for when she joined The Underworld."

I hold my breath, staring at the box.

Ahmed unlocks it, removes the gold lid, and scoots the box across the table.

I pick up the seven-carat, marquise-cut diamond attached to a gold band, mumbling, "I forgot about this ring."

Ahmed admires it, stating, "I miss the era where marquise cuts were the big rage. Bridget really loved them. Silver was making a big statement, but she preferred gold. And the inscription was classic Sean." He hands me a magnifying glass.

I spin the ring and look through the glass, reading,Mine for eternity. My skin erupts with goose bumps. I stare for several minutes at the exquisite piece, imagining it on Fiona's finger.

It's perfect.

Ahmed informs, "A lot of women don't like marquise. Do you know if Fiona does?"

I shake my head. "No. But if she doesn't like it, I'll get her a different one."

"Do you want to pick a second choice just to be safe? These other ones are more popular right now," he asks, pointing at the big box.

"No. I'm taking this one. Is it the correct size, or do you need to make adjustments?" I prod.

He smiles. "She is the same size as her mother. It'll fit her perfectly."

"Then it's meant to be," I state, feeling a swell of relief.

He puts it in the box, replaces the lid, and locks it. He hands me the key, declaring, "If you lose this, I have another."

"I won't," I insist, putting the box in the inside pocket of my sports coat.

"Good. And congratulations," he offers.

A strange feeling hits me. I nod. "Thank you." I rise, shake his hand, and exit through the door I entered. Then I walk down a different hallway and open another door, stepping into an empty room with one chair.

That anxious feeling reappears. I pace the small space, then sit and tap my fingers on my thighs.

The door finally opens. Colette, a petite woman with a tight bun, glasses hanging around her neck, and just as many wrinkles asAhmed, beams at me. She curtsies and chirps in a French accent, "Your Majesty. What an honor to see you again."

I lean in and kiss her on the cheek. "Colette. How have you been?"

"Very good, sir."

"And your family?"

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