Page 37 of Pretty Rings and Broken Things

Archer Moore—the cold, calculated man I’ve been told to avoid my entire life—is on his knees for me. And it might be my favorite thing I’ve ever seen.

His fingers are cold as they wrap around my ankle. I shiver, telling myself it’s from the temperature of his fingers and not because it feels so intimate to have his fingertips press against the inside of my ankle. He’s gentle as he slides the heel onto myfoot. I’m pretty sure his fingers linger a second longer than they need to after the shoe is on securely.

When he goes to slide the next one on, he looks up at me. It feels like something is happening, but I don’t know what exactly it is. The air just feels heavy between us, and I feel like part of it is because of where he just came from.

He keeps his fingers wrapped around my ankle as he sits back on his heels. “Five minutes,” he says again, running his hand over his mouth. The movement brings attention back to his bloody knuckles.

The sight makes me realize there’s so much I don’t know about him. Does this happen often? Is he always late, or did something happen tonight that isn’t part of his typical routine? I have so many questions but ask none of them because even though to the world I’m his wife, I don’t feel entitled to his answers.

“Five minutes,” I repeat, knowing I’d give him as long as he wanted. Maybe I should argue with him and get mad at him for making me feel like a fool for waiting for him, but that isn’t me. I don’t feel like a fool. One look at his appearance tonight and I know I’d do anything he asked. Because wherever he was, whatever he was doing, I know he never intended to leave me hanging.

He leaves before saying anything else. I use the time he gets ready to freshen up my appearance. Lying down on the bed has slightly wrinkled the delicate fabric of my dress. I glide my hands over the smooth, black fabric, trying to get rid of any wrinkles I can.

Archer’s stylist, Sara, had dropped it off earlier, saying it’s been in her client closet waiting for the perfect person to wear it. I took it with a smile, knowing the dress is brand-new and has definitely not been sitting in her closet.

I saw it in a catalog last month as a new dress to market. One of my favorite things to do is look at the fashion trends to find out what’s coming next. I love to do it for bothfashion and interior design trends. But I didn’t tell Sara that. It was sweet of her to think of me and bring it over, even though I’d had other options to wear tonight.

I do love how she brought a pair of silk gloves to go with the dress. I’m not one who normally wears gloves to formal events, but I understand her vision. With the black fabric running up my pale skin, it’s hard to miss the giant diamond on my finger. It sticks out against the dark fabric, the diamond glistening anytime any kind of light hits it.

If I were bold, I’d ask Archer what he thinks of the dress. It fits me perfectly. The sweetheart neckline does a lot for the average amount of cleavage I have. The dress isn’t flashy at all. There are no crystals or embellishments on it. Even the fabric itself is just plain black. It leaves all the attention on the ring he put on my finger. One that still takes my breath away every time I slide it onto my finger due to how large and stunning it is.

I’m swiping red lipstick along my bottom lip when Archer steps into view. I meet his eyes through the bathroom mirror.

It couldn’t have been more than ten minutes ago that his business clothes were wrinkled and disheveled, but you’d never know by looking at him now.

He’s far too handsome. He knows it, I know it, the world knows it.

Archer Moore was meant to be a man of power. It’s in the way his broad shoulders are always pushed back, like he knows he’s the most important person in the room. He carries himself confidently, which is impressive because he doesn’t even have to speak to command a room. His dark hair is perfectly styled once again. It’s shorter on the sides, and he’s slicked back the longer strands at the top.

I want to look at his knuckles to see if I’d made it up that only minutes ago they were bruised and bloody, but he’s got them tucked into his pockets. His chestnut eyes watch me closely. I feel every inch that they move over me as he lets them trail down my body. I try not to squirm underneath his gaze,knowing he’s doing the same thing I was just doing by looking him over.

Archer clears his throat. “Are you ready?”

I nod, grabbing the lipstick so I can put it in my clutch downstairs.

His hand reaches out, waiting for me to take it. I do without any kind of second thought. Neither of us says a word as he leads me downstairs and into the waiting car.

“Nervous?” he asks as the car pulls away from the curb.

“No,” I lie, suddenly incredibly nervous because our situation is about to feel far too real as we play the part to a room full of people I’ve known my entire life. People who know the history of our families and will be sure to ask tons of questions.

“It’s okay if you are,” he encourages. He reaches across the seat, acting as if he was going to touch me. At the last second, his hand drops between us, but he leaves it there.

I stare at it for a moment, wondering what he was reaching for. My hand? My cheek? My leg that I’m just now realizing is bouncing up and down with nerves?

“I’m not,” I lie again. For some reason, I don’t want to tell him how nervous I am.

“Then let’s go tell the world about our love.”

CHAPTER 20

ARCHER

I know doingthe red carpet together would’ve been wise from a press standpoint, but I love that we’re able to quickly get into the event without having to answer a ton of questions. It allows for us to make more of a grand entrance. The moment we step through the doors, the dim lighting of the party does nothing to hide the eyes that all shift and stay focused on us.

I stop before I can lead Winnie down the large ballroom staircase a few feet ahead of us. She’s been completely stiff since the moment we walked through the doors, and before we keep going, I need to know she’s doing okay.

“They’re already staring at us,” Winnie whispers.

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