Page 39 of A Convenient Ring to Claim Her

All of that should have prepared her for his apartment in Berlin, but it was simply too modern and space-aged for her to keep her gasp of astonishment to herself.

Two walls of windows were slanted upward to a peak on the upper floor. A winding staircase made of chrome and glass slithered like quicksilver down to the main floor where the open concept was situated around a central fireplace. All the furnishings were sleek and contemporary and inviting. Outside on the terrace, an infinity pool glowed blue while the fading day turned the Berlin skyline mauve.

“I have some appointments. Ask Olga for anything you need.” He had already introduced her to the housekeeper. “Your stylist will be here in two hours to help you get ready.”

“My stylist? I thought this thing was for engineers and computer programmers. How formal is it? I only have what you’ve bought me so far.” Terror was creeping in on her. She had thought the pleated skirt with a light jacket would be business-casual enough for the event.

“It’s become quite splashy in recent years,” he said with a fatalistic shrug. “The organizers began recognizing music video and cinema technologies alongside the architecture and automations so it garners more interest from the press. There will be a handful of celebrities presenting and accepting awards so there’s a red carpet.”

“And I have to walk it? With this?” She waved at the sling.

“Your stylist is bringing a selection of gowns. She knows your taste and your situation. I’m sure you’ll find something that works. I have to run. I’ll see you in a couple of hours.” He touched a kiss to her slack lips and disappeared.

She panic-texted Eden, who called and did a poor job of relieving the sense of pressure.

“I think it’s nice you two are going on a date.”

“It’s not adate,” Quinn cried. “Why would you say that? Have you been talking to him about me?” She narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

“No. We texted about Mama’s birthday the other day, but otherwise I’ve only been texting with you. What do you think tonight is, if not a date?”

“Bring Your Houseguest to Work Day,” she cried, but her stylist arrived so they switched to Eden helping her choose a gown. They signed off when it was time for Quinn to have her hair and makeup done.

Quinn was not a girlie girl in the sense that Eden was, enjoying high fashion and cosmetics and complex hairstyles. Thankfully, her stylist did have a good sense of her tastes. She kept her makeup subtle and only set her hair so her wild curls fell in orderly ringlets. After that was done, she helped her into a strapless silk gown with a flattering princess cut that flared around her feet. A matching plum stole was a genius touch that allowed her to drape it around her upper arms and across her sling.

Nervously, she put on her shoes—pretty slingbacks that she was able to slip on easily—and carefully walked down the stairs, holding the rail and watching her step.

When she finally glanced up, she realized Micah had been standing below the whole time, watching her descend like a little fawn on its newborn legs.

She paused and clutched the rail tighter, feeling even weaker under the impact of his attention. It was such an intense blast, it nearly blew back her hair. It definitely left her heart tripping unsteadily.Hedid.

“I thought you were still in your room, changing.” He was already in a tuxedo, freshly shaved and so flawless and casually sexy, she had to ask helplessly, “Why do you always look so good?”

His head went back slightly, as if the question didn’t register.

“Probably because I wasn’t allowed to leave my room unless I passed muster,” he finally answered.

That took her aback. “What do you mean?”

“My grandmother was very fastidious about appearance. If she noticed one hair out of place, I was sent back upstairs. Sometimes that worked to my advantage. If I didn’t want to go to a particular dinner or opera, I dripped some toothpaste on my shirt. Sometimes I missed something I wanted to attend, though. I learned to keep it tight.”

“What kinds of things?” she asked with concern, recalling asking him if his father had been abusive. Apparently, the whole family was pretty heartless. “Birthday parties?”

“Science exhibits.”

“Well, that’s the cutest thing I’ve ever heard.” She bit the inside of her lip to hide her amusement. “I often forget you’re nothing but algorithms and load-span calculations under those bespoke suits.”

“And spreadsheets. I do love detailed analysis.” The way his gaze drifted over her told her exactly what kind of sheets he was referring to.

She blushed and chuckled, making herself finish descending the stairs, but her knees were not quite steady.

“You look beautiful,” he said, gaze still drinking her in. “I mean, you’re always beautiful, but—” He paused as she made a noise of skepticism. His brows rose imperiously. He came closer and tilted up her chin, forcing her to look him in the eye. “Strawberries and cream is my favorite dessert.” His thumb caressed her cheek. “It doesn’t have to be served in fine china for me to want to eat it, but when it is, I certainly appreciate the presentation.”

She was trying to work up a snappy retort, but the housekeeper was bringing someone in from the foyer.

“Ah. This is Hans Gunter and he has something else I hope you’ll wear. It’s for a good cause,” he assured her as Hans offered a large flat purple velvet box. “This necklace will be auctioned off in a few weeks to benefit an organization that helps children displaced by natural and man-made disasters.”

The pendant was a cushion-cut purple amethyst surrounded by white-gold filigree with diamond accents. It came with a script about the auction. Apparently, Hans would shadow her throughout the evening to ensure its safety, but what was she going to do? Say no to helping children?

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