Page 27 of Savage Promises

Holy shit.

“Yes. Right. To Rafael...Marchant.” I hold up my other hand to show Shane the plain silver band Rafael gave me, one he claimed is a family heirloom. “Of Marchant Vineyards.”

“Yes, I heard.” Shane watches as I attempt to come up with a reason why I forgot about my engagement.

“He travels a lot. We’re taking it slow.”

Like glacier slow.

Shane’s jaw tightens. “Sounds...convenient.”

“I’m busy with the club and work strange hours.” I grab a tissue and a squirt of sanitizer from the bottle on the counter to wipe down the ring. “So yeah, I guess it’s convenient.”

I sound more defensive than I need to be.

Up until now, Rafael has been kind. Safe. So safe, he hasn’t touched me below the waist even though we’ve been engaged for a year.Old-world traditions, he said he wants to uphold.

I fit into his picture of perfection because I’m still a virgin. Even if my father doesn’t think I am. Some quack told him years ago I wasn’t. Dad beat me when he heard, and demanded the name of the man whosoiledme, but I never gave him one because therewasn’tanyone.

Even after a year-long engagement, Rafael has made no attempt at intimacy. I worry my marriage will be for show. The same as Neve and Shane’s. Only, I don’t expect Shane to have a name-only marriage. Shane is too passionate to live platonically with someone.

The saleswoman returns with a tray of wedding bandsto match the solitaire engagement ring. When I cluelessly look at the rings, she pops out a hip and says, “Shall we make another appointment for the bride?”

I scoff to myself thinking:Good luck getting Neve in here.

“No need. I’ll take whatever band goes with this one.” Shane takes the solitaire ring from my hand and lays it on the velvet tray.

He doesn’t care what the rings look like. This is transactional to him.

Still, my eyes catch the diamond’s last bit of sparkle as the saleswoman boxes it up and stuffs it away. That ring is a symbol of everything that can never be mine.

“When will you give her the ring?” I say, pushing the dreaded words through a tight throat. “I didn’t hear anything about an engagement party.”

“Not enough time,” Shane says with no emotion. “I thought I’d do a public proposal.”

My eyes flutter. “Sounds...romantic.”

“It’s not. It’s business. And I’ll arrange it. Clearly, your sister can not care less.” Shane glances at me with dark and conflicted eyes.

“Here we are.” The saleswoman lays out another black velvet tray in front of me.

“These are the other pieces I mentioned in my phone call?” Shane says to her.

I brace for more heartache, seeing what additional bounty of jewels my sister will be rewarded with.

“Absolutely.” The woman turns to me with a wide smile.

I pull back, emotionally checking out. I don’t need to approve any ruby jewels a mob boss showers his arranged marriage bride with to symbolize a blood oath between families.

Only, glancing down, I see a spread of blue topaz stones set into a teardrop gold and diamond necklace, achoker with black onyx, a matching bracelet, earrings, and an ankle bracelet.

“These are unbelievably gorgeous, Shane,” I say. “But my sister will not appreciate them.”

“Can we have a moment alone?” he asks the saleswoman, who steps away. Keeping his jaw tight, he leans in and whispers, “Did you think I forgot today was your birthday?”

My heart drops into my stomach, but I play it cool. “With so much happening, yeah. Everyone else did.”

“It’s not just a date on the calendar.” He takes the riviera-style necklace channeled with cerulean blue stones and drapes it across my neck, his fingers lingering on my skin. “I never forget your birthday because it was the night I kissed you.”

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