Chapter 7
COLT
Hallie seemed to have no idea about diamond cuts and clarity. It didn’t really matter. Didn’t she realize the trays we were being shown were examples?
No.
No, she didn’t.
“That one,” I said and picked up the cushion-cut diamond ring. It was four carats. Enough to be eye-catching but not garish.
Monica smiled. “Brilliant choice. I can check with our supplier—”
“We’ll take the floor model,” I said. “I just need a box, please.”
To her credit, Monica didn’t even blink. I’d known her for years, ever since my father had hired her as one of Valenteen’s top sales associates. Like a true professional, she simply nodded and made a note on her tablet.
“Of course, Mr. Jesson. I’ll have it cleaned and prepared for—”
“No need. That’s the one.” I glanced at Hallie, who was staring at the ring like it might be radioactive. She seemed to be frozen, like a deer caught in the headlights of a speeding truck.
Monica hesitated. I could see the question forming behind her professional smile.
The floor model wasn’t a real diamond. It was a cubic zirconia in a real platinum setting, something we used for display purposes so we didn’t have to worry about security every time a customer wanted to try something on.
A real diamond in this setting would cost north of three hundred thousand dollars. Hallie didn’t need to know that the actual rock on her finger was worth about three hundred.
I was paying her obscenely well, but I wasn’t about to drop the cost of a luxury sports car on a ring for a woman who wasn’t really my wife. A fake engagement deserved a fake diamond. Simple as that.
“I’ll need you to sign an NDA,” I said to Monica, my tone leaving no room for negotiation. “Standard confidentiality agreement. Everything about this transaction stays between us. You understand.”
“Of course.” She pulled out a tablet and stylus, already pulling up the document. “I’ll have it ready in just a moment. I just signed one of these the other day.”
I nodded at her. “Who was the client?”
Monica grinned back at me and shook her head. “Nice try but I’m not allowed to say.”
“Good answer.”
I turned my attention back to Hallie, who was now examining the other rings in the tray with a polite interest that was starting to grate on my nerves. The employee had brought out at least fifteen different options, and Hallie had responded to each one with the same pleasant, noncommittal smile.
“That’s lovely.”
“Oh, that’s nice too.”
“They’re all so beautiful, I couldn’t possibly choose.”
It was driving me insane.
But there was a part of me that really wanted to show her what being my real fiancée would mean.
“Bring out the three-carat emerald cut,” I said to another hovering employee. “And the cushion-cut halo. The one with the split shank.”
“Right away, Mr. Jesson.”
They scattered like I’d cracked a whip, rushing to fulfill my orders. This was my store, my empire, and everyone here knew it. When I spoke, people moved. That’s how it had always been, and that’s how it would stay.
My father had run Valenteen with an iron fist wrapped in a velvet glove. Firm but fair, demanding but respectful. I’d inherited his business acumen, but I’d left the velvet glove behind. I didn’t have time for coddling or handholding. I needed results, and I needed them now.
“We already have a ring,” Hallie said quietly. “Was it not good enough?”
“Do you really think my future wife would only wear one ring?” I asked.
She frowned. “Oh. I guess I didn’t consider that. Do you mind if I look around? I’ve never been in a place like this—”
I cut her off and waved my hand as if she were an annoying bug. I got another glare before she got up and walked out of the private room and back onto the showroom floor.
Monica handed me the tablet with the NDA pulled up. We dealt with a lot of very high-end customers. They didn’t want their business splashed across the front page of gossip rags. We provided discretion. Some of our clients had wives—and mistresses.
I nodded and handed the signed NDA back to Monica. She quickly signed. “I’ll store this in a private file.”
“Good.”
I got to my feet and walked into the showroom to find Hallie deep in conversation with one of my salespeople.
She was thanking every employee who brought her something. Apologizing when she had to hand a ring back. Asking them about their day, their families, if they’d had lunch yet.
“Oh, don’t go to any trouble,” she said when one of them offered to bring her champagne. “Really, water is fine. Or nothing! I’m fine with nothing.”
My jaw tightened.
“Actually,” I cut in, my voice sharp enough to make Hallie’s head snap toward me. “Bring us both champagne. The Dom Pérignon, not the house prosecco we serve the peasants.”
“Of course, Mr. Jesson.”
Hallie opened her mouth to protest, probably to say something annoyingly self-effacing about how she didn’t need champagne, but I held up a hand.
“Give us a moment,” I said to the room in general.
The employees melted away while security casually moved to the corners. They couldn’t leave the place unprotected but they could give us some privacy.
I turned to face Hallie fully. She was already looking at me with those dark eyes, a mixture of confusion and defiance swimming in their depths.
I grabbed her elbow gently and steered her toward a corner of the private showroom, away from prying eyes and ears.
“What are you doing?” she hissed.
“I could ask you the same thing.” I released her arm but didn’t step back, using my height and proximity to crowd her slightly. “What’s with all the apologizing? The thanking? The ‘oh, I don’t want to be a bother’ routine?”
She blinked. “I’m being polite, like a normal person.”
“You’re being a doormat.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “And it’s making me look bad.”
“Excuse me?”
“You just got engaged to the wealthiest man in New York City,” I said. “Act like it. You’re not a hairdresser anymore, Hallie. You’re my woman. My fiancée. And women in your position don’t apologize for existing.”
Color flooded her cheeks. “I’m just trying to be nice. Human. Decent. You should try it sometime. The world could use more of it.”
“They don’t need nice. They need you to be decisive. Confident. To act like you belong here instead of like you stumbled in off the street and can’t believe someone’s letting you look at the jewelry.”
She opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “That’s exactly how I feel, though.”
“Well, don’t.” I leaned in closer, lowering my voice even further.
“This is your job now. Playing my fiancée. And part of that job is selling the image that we’re madly in love and you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.
Stop acting grateful for scraps and start acting like the future Mrs. Jesson. ”
She squirmed under my scrutiny, her hands fidgeting with the hem of the expensive sweater I’d bought her. I found myself enjoying this more than I probably should, watching her struggle to maintain her composure while I systematically dismantled every defense she tried to put up.
Hallie’s sunshiny personality, all warmth and consideration, was going to be a problem. Not because it wasn’t charming—it was—but because it made her look weak. Uncertain. Like she didn’t believe she deserved to be here.
And if she didn’t believe it, no one else would either.
“You’re under contract,” I reminded her, letting a hint of steel creep into my voice. “Which means you do what I tell you to do. When I tell you to do it. Understood?”
Her eyes flashed with something that looked an awful lot like hatred. Good. I’d rather have her angry than apologetic.
“This is going to be a long six months,” she muttered, just loud enough for me to hear. “No wonder you’re still a bachelor. You’re an asshat.”
I laughed, the sound surprising even me. “An asshat?” I repeated, grinning now. “That’s the best you’ve got?”
“I’m still being polite,” she shot back. “I was going to say douch canoe.”
I arched an eyebrow. “What the hell is a douche canoe?”
“Look in a mirror.”
Still grinning, I reached out and took her hand, pulling her back toward the display cases filled with necklaces, earrings and bracelets. Hallie resisted for half a second before allowing herself to be led. I could feel the tension radiating off her in waves.
Perfect.
I positioned us in front of a case filled with loose diamonds and custom settings, then moved to stand behind her, close enough that my chest brushed against her back. I felt her stiffen, felt her breath catch.
Even better.
My hand landed on her hip, and I let it rest there for a moment before slowly trailing it upward. Over the curve of her waist. Along her ribcage. To her shoulder.
“What are you doing?” she whispered, her voice slightly breathless.
“Selling it,” I murmured back. “There are photographers outside. Employees watching. Everyone’s waiting to see if this is real.”
I slid my hand from her shoulder to her jaw, my fingers gentle but insistent as I turned her face toward mine. Her skin was silky smooth. I could feel her pulse against my thumb.
Her eyes met mine, wide and uncertain, and I saw the exact moment her defiance crumbled into something else. Something that looked a lot like want.
“My bachelor ways are a gift to womenkind,” I purred, letting my voice drop into that low register I knew women couldn’t resist. “If you behave, I’ll show you what I mean.”
Her face turned bright pink. The blush spread from her cheeks down her neck and disappeared beneath the V of her sweater. She opened her mouth, probably to tell me off, but nothing came out.
I held her gaze for a moment longer, letting the tension stretch between us like a rubber band pulled taut. Then I released her and turned back to the display case, acting as if nothing had happened.
“Now,” I said, my tone back to business. “We’ll need at least one necklace and matching pair of earrings. Pick something.”
For the rest of the appointment, Hallie stopped apologizing to the staff. Stopped hedging her answers with qualifiers like “maybe” and “I think.” When Monica showed her a simple diamond teardrop necklace and matching earrings, she looked to me for approval.
I raised an eyebrow, silently challenging her.
Hallie turned back to Monica and smiled. “That set. Yes, please. It’s perfect.”
“Excellent choice,” Monica said, beaming.
We finalized the details. Monica understood the necklace and diamonds, which were actually real, would be substituted with the fake stuff when she sent it to my penthouse.
As we prepared to leave, I caught Hallie’s reflection in one of the mirrors. She looked conflicted. Like she couldn’t decide if she was excited or terrified.
I understood the feeling.
“Ready?” I asked, offering her my arm.
She took it, and we walked out of Valenteen together, putting on a show for the photographers who’d multiplied while we were inside. I kept my hand in the small of her back, pulled her in close when we reached the car, even dropped a kiss on her forehead for good measure.
The cameras ate it up.
Inside the car, Hallie let out a long breath and slumped against the leather seat. “That was exhausting.”
“You’ll get used to it.”
“Will I?”
I glanced at her, taking in the way she’d already kicked off the designer heels and was rubbing her feet.
“You will,” I said. “Because you don’t have a choice.”
She didn’t respond, just turned to stare out the window as the city blurred past.
I found myself wondering if I’d just made the best decision of my life.
Or the worst.