Page 12 of The Fixer

The store is almostready to close. The moment we enter, a suit-clad salesman immediately heads in our direction. I can see him assessing us, trying to decide if we’re serious customers or browsers, if we have money to spend or if we’re going to want the cheapest ring in the place.

I wonder what his conclusions are.

We’re an incongruous pair. Rosa is dressed to go out for dinner. She’s wearing a flowered ankle-length dress with slits up both sides, showing tantalizing glimpses of her tanned legs. Her shoulders are bare and sun-kissed, golden hoops gleam in herears, and thin golden bangles adorn her delicate wrists. I, on the other hand, am wearing the first clean thing I could find on my way out of Venice. A cotton shirt that’s been washed so many times it’s practically transparent, faded jeans, and old sneakers.

This is an expensive store, and I look like a bum.

Unsurprisingly, the salesman directs his attention to Rosa. “Can I help you?” he asks, his eyes lingering a little too long.

I clear my throat. It’s not bothering me that he’s eye-fucking Rosa—really, it isn’t—but to do it in front of me is inviting trouble. Even in enemy territory, this isn’t something I’m going to allow. “We’re looking for an engagement ring,” I say icily.

The salesman hears the warning in my voice. He gives me a supercilious smile. “Our rings start at twenty thousand euros. What is your budget, signor?”

When I asked Patrizia to marry me, I saved and scrimped for months. In those days, I didn’t make much money, and what I did went towards helping my mother with food and rent. After five months, I saved five hundred euros. It felt like a princely sum of money. With it, Patrizia and I went into an antique store and bought a diamond ring. Thestone was tiny, but it sparkled like a star. Patrizialovedit.

Those memories engulf me and threaten to drag me under.

“I don’t have one,” I bite out. I’m supposed to be pretending to be in love with Rosa, but so far, I’m doing a terrible job of it. I smile fondly at her. “It’s much more important that Rosa finds the ring she loves.”

The salesman—Paulo—says something about true love. We sit down in front of the counter, and he leaves to fetch some rings to show us. The moment his back is turned, Rosa grabs my hand and pulls me down to whisper, “Twenty thousand euros? Leo, that’s insane. Let’s go somewhere else.”

“It’s fine.” Her perfume wafts over me again, sweet and tantalizing. “I can afford it.”

Paulo returns with a tray. “These rings just came in,” he says. “These are round, brilliant cut diamonds, ranging in size from one to three carats.” He gives me another condescending smile. “People sometimes think that a two-carat diamond costs double that of a one-carat, but?—”

That’s quite enough. I cut him off. “But in reality, they cost anywhere from three to four times more.” I cast a dismissive eye over his tray of baubles. “Noneof these interest me. They’re too boring. Too common.” I lace Rosa’s fingers in mine. “My girlfriend needs something special.”

“Special,” Paulo repeats. He can’t figure out if I’m serious or full of shit, but he’s taking no chances of letting a commission walk away. “Let me see what we have.” He returns with another tray. On it, six engagement rings gleam against the black velvet. “These diamonds are colored,” he says. “Colored stones are considerably rarer than the clear ones.”

Rosa’s fingers brush a pink diamond ring. Paulo notices. “Ah, yes. You have impeccable taste. This is a three-carat pink diamond mined in Australia in a halo setting surrounded by smaller pavé stones.” He glances at me. “It is also extremely expensive. If you’re looking for something cheaper, I can suggest a lab-grown gem?—”

She can’t take her eyes off the pink ring. And I need to get the hell out of this store before I choke and drown in the memories. I pull a card out of my wallet. “I’ll take it.”

7

ROSA

Leo tosses the jewelry box carelessly over his shoulder when he gets back into the car and lapses back into a brooding silence. It lands on the back seat.

As for me, I’m trying not to freak out.

My engagement ring is beautiful. Large diamonds leave me cold—I never wanted a giant rock on my finger. I prefer smaller, more delicate pieces of jewelry, pieces that aren’t so expensive that I spend my life in terror of losing them. But there was something about the pink diamond. I couldn’t take my eyes off it.

But the price. . . Oh God. Leo whipped out a black credit card and handed it to the salesman like it wasno big deal.I caught a glimpse of the receipt,and it was the number two, followed by a truly eye-popping number of zeros.

Two hundred thousand euros. I feel faint. I could run my business for the next two years for the amount of money Leo spent on my engagement ring. I could exhibit at Milan Fashion Week without wondering if I could afford it. I would never have to fret about the number of customers walking through my boutique door, worrying if I’d earned enough to make rent.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“You just did.”

I bite my lip, not knowing how to bring up the subject. “Are you secretly rich?” Leo works for the Venetian Mafia, and he’s one of their top lieutenants, but even so, that shouldn’t extend to dropping two hundred grand on a diamond ring. Especially when it’s an arranged marriage that he clearly doesn’t want to be in.

I don’t expect him to solve my curiosity, but he does. “It’s not that much of a secret,” he says. “I was illegitimate. My married father had an affair with my mother but cut off contact when he found out she was pregnant. My mother never talked about him, and I never met the bastard. He died when I was thirty, and there were no other heirs. I inherited allhis money.” He shrugs his shoulders. “There’s a lot. I generally want nothing to do with it, but it’s useful from time to time.” He gives me an amused look. “Look happier, Rosa. You get to spend it all.”

I doubt Leo will appreciate me spending his money on fabric. “Do you want a prenup?”

He rolls his eyes. “What’s a prenup going to do? If you leave me, your brother dies.” He opens his door. “Let’s go break the happy news to your parents. Should I ask your father for your hand in marriage?”

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