Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
Pippa
“You didn’t?” Sandra squeals from the other side of the Atlantic.
“I did. I couldn’t help it. It was the only thing I could think of to wipe that smug look off her face,” I mutter.
“And did it?”
“You bet. She became quite pale, poor thing.”
Sandra laughs. “She should have known better than to take us British on. We have to put up with rain all year round, so it makes us quite moody and miserable.”
“Speak for yourself. I’m not moody or miserable. Anyway, I have a feeling I haven’t seen the end of Vanessa. She had the ‘I haven’t given up’ look on her face when she slinked away.”
Sandra bites into a chocolate chip cookie. “But other than that, you’re having a swell time.”
“Oh yes.”
“And the sex? How is that going?”
I start walking towards the fridge. “How do you know we’re having sex?”
She grins. “Because you’re glowing.”
“Yeah, the sex is good,” I say, flushing to the roots of my hair.
Sandra cackles with delight. “Oh my God! The sex is amazing, isn’t it?”
I pull out a carton of orange juice as I giggle like a teenager. “Yup, it is.”
“Much better than with George?” she wheedles.
I inhale sharply. I don’t like to acknowledge it, but I have to admit the truth. “Much better.”
Sandra takes her phone with her as she does a little happy jig. “I am so happy. I can’t believe that I chose him for you.”
I pour a glass of juice and take a sip. “Ok, I’ll give you this one. You did choose him, but … um … George sent me a text.”
She groans and stops dancing abruptly. “You’re not going to answer him.”
“Well, he says he can’t stop thinking about me.”
“Nonsense. I wouldn’t trust any of his stupid declarations anymore. He dropped you and went off with that Claudia woman, and he’s only back because he can see that your new guy is a catch and a half. And what does Rhett say about this?”
“He says I should make George suffer a bit more.”
“I totally agree,” Sandra says firmly. “You should make him suffer. For what he put you through … he should suffer a lot.”
The sound of the doorbell startles me.
“I’ve got to go. Call you later, ok,” I tell Sandra hurriedly.
“See you later, alligator,” Sandra sings before the line goes dead.
Rhett is upstairs on a work call, and I practically trip over myself getting to the door, expecting maybe a gardener or a delivery gone wrong.
Rhett would have said if one of his friends was coming over.
But when I pull the door open, there’s a suited courier standing outside holding a small, sleek, black velvet box.
My breath catches in my throat. It’s got to be the ring Rhett ordered. I forgot it was meant to be coming today.
The box the courier is holding is small, but it somehow already radiates importance.
It looks like the kind of thing you only ever see in the movie during the grand gesture scene where the heroine starts crying with happiness, and it is all filmed in slow motion.
The courier hands it over with the kind of neutral efficiency of someone who has no idea he’s just delivered the most significant prop in a very tangled performance.
I thank him, shut the door, and stare down at the box in my hand. My pulse hammers so loudly in my ears I can hear it. When I turn around, Rhett has come back down the stairs and is leaning at the doorway, his arms folded, watching me with that infuriating smile of his.
“Well?” he drawls. “Aren’t you going to open it?”
I swallow, suddenly aware of how my palms are sweating. “I … uh … didn’t expect it to arrive today.”
“Open it, Pippa.”
My fingers fumble a little with the hinge. The lid gives way with an efficient whisper. Inside, nestled against a pillow of black velvet, is my fake engagement ring. I don’t even breathe for a moment when I see it.
Good God!
Only someone with an obscene amount of money could afford something like this.
It’s a round brilliant-cut diamond, haloed with smaller diamonds that form a delicate crown, all of it set in a delicate platinum band that is so polished I can see the faintest suggestion of my reflection in it.
The diamond catches the late afternoon light from the window, and suddenly there are prisms everywhere, tiny rainbows dancing across the room.
It’s not just gorgeous. It’s breathtaking.
“Oh Lord,” I whisper. “It’s going to be like wearing a star on my finger.”
Rhett pushes himself off the doorway and strolls over towards me.
His gait is casual. He plucks the ring delicately from its perch in the box.
Taking my nerveless left hand in his, he holds the ring at the tip of my finger.
I can’t take my hand off our fingers. The cool brush of the metal against my skin makes me shiver.
Then, with a smoothness that makes my stomach flip, he slides it onto my finger.
The fit is perfect.
My eyes lift up to meet his. He is watching me intently. Something in his expression confuses me and I bite my lower lip and let my gaze slide away.
I raise my hand, staring at it as if I’ve never seen my own fingers before in my life.
Wow! It’s really something. It even feels heavier than I expected it to, like it carries its own gravity.
Every movement makes it catch the light differently.
Sometimes it is pure fire, and then at other times, it is glittering frost. It looks utterly unreal on me, like I’ve been mistaken for someone who belongs in glossy magazines, or for someone who actually belongs in his moneyed world.
“Wow,” I manage, my voice breaking on a laugh. “I can’t stop looking at it. It’s gorgeous. It’s so beautiful. I love it.”
“You’re supposed to love it,” Rhett says. “That’s the whole point.”
“I do. I know it’s just temporary and all that, but heavens, it’s so insanely beautiful, I think I need sunglasses to look at it. One thing is for sure, people are going to stare.”
He grins. “Good. Let them stare.”
I wiggle my fingers, mesmerized by the dancing balls of light my ring throws off. I glance at Rhett.
“So, this is what it feels like to be engaged to a billionaire, huh? A permanent disco ball attached to your hand?”
“Among other things,” he says smoothly. “But that’s a good start.”
I laugh, warmth unfurling in my chest despite myself. For a moment, I almost forget that this is just pretend. Almost.
“What if I lose it?” I say, frowning suddenly.
“It’s insured.” Rhett tugs gently on my hand, lowering it from where I’ve been practically waving it in front of my face.
“Phew, that’s a relief,” I mumble. “I almost gave myself a heart attack thinking about losing this ring.
Rhett slides his arm across the back of my waist. “I’ve finished work today. Let’s go and show New York your ring.”