Page 19 of The Bonventi Rise
Marco opens the box, and it's a large round brilliant-cut diamond ring. It's fucking huge. Like 5, maybe 6 carats. I don't know, but I'm absolutely positive it's more than any salary I've ever been paid.
"Jesus Christ," I say, the words coming out before I can even process them leaving my lips.
"Do you like it?" Marco asks.
I'm so frazzled I can't speak. "No, I, um, yes, shit. It's yes," I say finally, grabbing hold of my words, "yes, it's very nice. Perfect, actually."
Marco smiles. "May I?" he asks, shifting the box forward.
"Oh, yes, sure," I say and raise my left hand.
He pulls out the ring and grabs my hand. His grip is soft, gentle, and I can't help but look into his brown eyes. They seem more beautiful than before, and I blink to pull myself away and look back down at the ring.
He slowly slides the ring onto my finger and rubs my hand as he adjusts it. "Fits perfectly," he says.
We stand there for a moment, him holding my hand. I can feel him looking at me, but I can't bring myself to look up. Instead, I just stare down at his hand holding mine.
He slowly lets go of my hand. "We should go," he says. "We'll be late."
"Of course," I say.
As we step inside the elevator, he looks down at me.
"By the way, you look beautiful in that red dress."
I smile and quickly realize it's not simply from the compliment. It's from doing something for someone and having them notice.
Dammit, I think as something pops into my head.
As we make our way down to the first floor, I get this overwhelming feeling that I'm stepping into something far more complicated than I ever imagined.
12
MARCO
As we drive to our dinner, we sit in silence. I steal glances at her as she looks out the window. At a light, I see her face's reflection; it shows she's contemplating things, just like me.
The fact is, I should be going over what my conversation at dinner with her will be and what we'll do now that she's in Chicago full-time, but I can't stop thinking about her hand. It's stupid, really. It's just a ring meant to give off the impression we're actually a couple. It's a necessary item for this business endeavor. Yet, the way her hand, so soft and gentle, felt in my hand, and the moment we had—it just felt... strange.
It freaked me out.
And there's the red dress. Yes, I know I told her to wear it, and she did. It's not the first time I've asked a woman to wear something and they listened, but this time, it's all so different. It's the first time that the reality of a woman wearing something I asked not only met my expectations—it blew it out of the fucking water.
The way it clings to her. The V-neck showing just the right amount of the soft skin of her breasts. Her hips, and how they...
Stop.
I let out a subtle laugh, and she turns to look at me.
"What?" she asks.
I shake my head. "Nothing. Just, ah, never mind."
She looks at me for a moment, her eyes squinting as she observes my childlike reaction, and turns back to gaze out the window.
Get it together, man.
Oh, and of course, the only damn thing I can smell in this car is her sweet scent. All this clouds my mind. I should be thinking about how I'm going touseher, not justabouther.
