Chapter 21
T he quiet hum of the jewelry store surrounds me, the air thick with the scent of polished wood and luxury.
Light refracts off rows of diamonds and rubies, catching the gleam of precious metals encased in pristine glass. It’s all wealth and excess—the kind of place where status is bought, and sentiment is wrapped in velvet.
I’ve bought gifts before. Jewelry, cars, clothes—they were obligations. Expected.
But this?
This isn’t about a price tag or a duty.
It’s about seeing her wear something beautiful. Knowing that every time she takes the piece out of the little velvet box, she’ll feel them, think of me. And I like the idea of that.
Something that keeps me on her mind because she’s fucking living rent-free in mine.
The jeweler—a seasoned professional with a practiced, knowing smile—moves with silent efficiency, carefully selecting a few pieces to present on the black velvet display before me.
First, a bracelet—thin, elegant, with a line of emeralds catching the light like fractured stars in her hazel eyes. It’s beautiful, but not quite right.
Marcus’s voice crackles through my Bluetooth earpiece.
“I’m digging into the nephew,” he says. “Guy’s got skeletons. I just need to find where they’re buried.”
“Good.” I keep my voice low as the jeweler begins wrapping the earrings, his movements efficient from years of practice. “Your guy is on him?”
“About that…”
I stop rolling my cuff, tension lacing through my shoulders.
“What does that mean?”
Marcus exhales. “He lost him.”
Next, a ruby necklace—a delicate chain with a single pendant, subtle yet striking. I almost consider it. Almost.
I grit my teeth. “Marcus.”
“I know,” he mutters. “But he’s calling in a favor to get a track on his cell phone. Won’t be exact, but close enough.”
Not good enough.
“Has he been spotted anywhere useful?”
“Couple of times.” A pause. “He’s been meeting with Norwood I lit the match and watched them burn.
“He’s trying to gather allies,” I mutter.
“Yeah, but even if he did, he doesn’t have the firepower to compete with us.”
Maybe not. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t planning something.
The jeweler studies my expression, then seems to get an idea. His fingers move to another case, unlocking it with a quiet click before pulling out something else.
A pair of diamond threader earrings. The white gold chains are sleek, elegant, the diamonds catching the light at just the right angle.
Perfect.
I nod once, and the jeweler inclines his head in understanding, setting them aside without a word.
“Hold on, Wolfe. I’m getting another call—it’s James.” Marcus puts me on hold, and I set my phone on the glass counter, stretching my neck and releasing a heavy breath.
The jeweler clears his throat subtly, stepping forward to offer the carefully wrapped package.
“I take it your proposal went well, Mr. Wolfe?”
I hesitate a second too long.
Then, my lips curve into a slow, practiced smirk. “It did,” I say smoothly, exhaling through my nose. “With a ring so beautiful, how could she say no?”
The jeweler beams. “A beautiful addition to your beautiful bride, Mr. Wolfe.”
I don’t correct him.
Because the thought of Elena wearing these—knowing I picked them for her?—
Yeah. I like that too much.
I nod to the jeweler, accepting the bag before heading toward the exit. The town car is waiting at the curb, the driver already stepping out to open the door.
I slide into the backseat, loosening my tie just enough to breathe.
A few moments pass before Marcus’s voice returns. “Back. Where were we?”
“Adrian’s making a play, but we don’t know what it is yet,” I remind him.
“Right,” Marcus hums. “I’ll keep pushing, but let’s be honest—he’s just another trust fund dickhead trying to play in a league too big for him.”
“True.”
A pause. Then—his tone shifts.
“Anyway… let’s talk about something more interesting.”
I don’t like where this is going. “Marcus.”
“Elena.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose.
“You gonna pretend you’re not interested?” he continues, amused.
“I don’t pretend anything,” I say dryly.
Marcus chuckles. “Uh-huh. That why you’ve got the sappiest goddamn smirk on your face right now?”
I glance at my reflection in the tinted window. Sure enough—there’s a fucking smile. I school my expression, jaw tightening. “You can’t even see me right now.”
“Don’t need to, Wolfe.” Marcus is loving this.
“There’s nothing there, so stop reading into things.” I try to act nonchalant, toying with a thread on the seam of my slacks.
“So,” Marcus presses, “you wouldn’t mind if I set her up with James’s brother?”
I freeze.
Marcus’s voice drips with feigned innocence. “He’s single, you know. And she’d be a great sister-in-law.”
A muscle in my jaw ticks.
The mere thought of Elena with someone else—with someone’s fucking hands on her, making her laugh, making her bite her lip the way she does when she’s trying not to smile?—
No.
Absolutely not.
“Marcus,” I say evenly.
“What?” he drawls, all smug amusement. “If she’s just part of the contract, then what’s the problem?”
I exhale slowly, dragging a hand through my hair. “You’re annoying.”
“And you’re dodging the question.”
I glance at the navy-blue bag sitting beside me.
Elena has no idea it’s coming. No idea I picked them just for her.
“Look, I need you to keep an eye on things tonight,” I deflect.
“Why? You got plans?”
“Yeah.” I'm thinking about Elena's reaction seeing the earrings. Her putting them on. Me putting my lips on the curve of her neck while she's wearing them.
Fuck.
Marcus keeps pushing because—he’s a nosy asshole. “You taking Elena out?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“But you didn’t say no.”
I rub my temple.
Marcus hums knowingly. “You’re going on a date.”
I don’t answer.
“…Damien?”
“Goodbye, Marcus.”
“Have a goo?—”
He’s still laughing when I hang up.
I check my watch.
The other package I sent should be arriving soon.
I wish I could be there to see her open it. To see the surprise on her face, the way her lips might part slightly, the way her fingers would graze over the silky fabric.
But that can wait.
Because the real pleasure will be later tonight—when I get to see her in it.