Chapter 31
Harper
I did not sleep well.
It might have been the alcohol in my system. Or that I kept replaying how he arrived to pick me up less than five minutes after Phe called him.
He’s fighting not to show his feelings, despite confessing that he likes me. It’s frustrating.
Today, he declared he's taking me to the jewelry store. He wants us to pick out wedding rings. It’s the downtime between the services, so we won’t be missed.
Working at the restaurant is taking so much out of me; I don’t have the bandwidth to contribute much toward the wedding planning.
I’m grateful he’s thinking ahead. But also, a little pissed off because he’s approaching the wedding arrangements with the same single-minded focus that he did menu planning at the restaurant. Can’t this man slip up at anything?
I’m amazed when he leads me into a private viewing room off the main showroom at a very well-known jewelry store which I know is frequented by royalty and billionaires in the country.
I feel like such a fraud.
"Umm, do we have to do this?" I whisper. Evidently, this place must be soundproof, for the quiet here is absolute. The hushed kind of silence that only money can buy.
He cups my elbow and, with a firm but gentle tug, urges me to sink down in one of the upholstered stools in front of the display.
He takes the seat next to mine. I take in the cream walls, the polished fittings, and a low glass display table lit from beneath, which makes the diamonds inside sparkle like trapped stars.
"We do need to exchange rings at the ceremony."
"Do we?" I question not meeting his eyes. "It is a fake marriage." I lower my voice. "So why do we need rings?"
"It needs to appear real to—"
"Lady Hamilton, and to your investors, and your brothers, and my friends." I blow out a breath. "Yeah. Okay. I understand." But really, I don’t. "Why does everything have to feel so…so…"
"Real?"
I shoot him a glance to find he’s watching me with patience in his eyes. The kind I did not expect The Ice Commander to show. But which my fake fiancé does have. I’m learning to differentiate between the two. Slowly I nod.
"Because it needs to be… To convince the outside world.”
Of course, it’s all for show.
I nod. “There’s an expiration date on our relationship."
"A possible expiration date. Until then, it needs to feel genuine to those around us."
Our gazes meet again. And in this muted light, his eyes gleam like polished sapphires. He really does have the most incredible eyes ever. He’s wearing a button down, and I admire his appearance.
"Do I pass?" His mouth kicks up at the side in a smirk I want to kiss.
That raw male scent of his is driving me mad. I begin to lean in toward him, then catch myself. This attraction to my fake husband-to-be is most bothersome.
I tuck my hair behind my ear with my left hand. His gaze follows my action, then he frowns. "Why aren’t you wearing my ring?"
My ring. Ooh, that’s possessive. A pleasant tingle rolls up my spine.
I lower my left hand, then shove it behind me like I was caught doing something wrong. When really, I haven’t.
"I came straight from the kitchen when you asked me to leave. I only had time to take off my chef jacket before I came with you. And I don’t wear any jewelry in the kitchen."
His frown deepens. "It’s important to keep appearances up at all times."
"I went from the restaurant to your car to this showroom, and we’ll have to head right back to catch prep for dinner. No one’s going to see me."
He works his jaw like he’s controlling his temper. "That’s not for you to decide."
I gape at him. "Excuse me. You’re being very high-handed."
"I have to be if you’re not taking this entire arrangement seriously. It’s my future at stake."
What. The. Hell. How dare he imply that I’m not invested in this pretense? When I’m doing my best to cope with what is a very challenging role and keeping up appearances.
"It’s also my future," I snap.
His features grow inscrutable. "But are you treating it with the seriousness that it deserves?"
Anger pulses through my veins. I feel it bubble up my throat, and maybe it’s because I’m still a little hungover from yesterday and exhausted from the tension leading up to the wedding, but I feel something snap inside me.
"If I didn’t take it seriously, I wouldn’t be lying to my sister and to my friends, trying to convince them that I’m marrying you because it’s something more than a contract between us," I hiss.
As soon as the words are out, I deflate.
"I’m sorry." I rub the back of my neck. "I… I…didn’t mean to get upset with you."
"It’s okay for you to get upset with me." His face carries a touch of something like wonder. "In fact, I’d prefer that you get upset and share what’s on your mind."
Seeing the opening, I jump in with, "I want you to do the same."
His face shadows. "I’m not very good at sharing my feelings, as you must have gathered." His voice is wry.
"Are you being self-deprecating?" I shoot him a sideways glance.
"I know my shortcomings, of which there are many." He reaches over and pushes my hand aside.
"What are you do— Oh!" I sigh as he digs his big fingers into the back of my neck, right where there’s a knot of tension. He turns me around so my back is to him. Then he begins to massage my neck and shoulders in earnest. With every squeeze, more tension bleeds from my muscles.
"Ohhh, that feels sooo good…" I hang my head, let my shoulders slump, and allow myself to soak up his ministrations.
When he digs his fingers into a particularly stiff part, I moan.
He freezes.
"Oh, don’t stop."
When he doesn’t move, I turn and open one eye long enough with a view to tell him off. But the lust in his eyes, and the absolute longing on his face makes me swallow my words.
Ohmygod. The air between us zings with unsaid emotions.
And need. And want. His jaw is hard, like he’s fought a battle with himself and lost. He leans in toward me, until his lips are just a millimeter from mine.
I draw his breath into my lungs, shivering with anticipation.
I part my lips, waiting for him to crash his mouth on mine, when a door at the side of the room opens.
We pull apart like we’ve been electrocuted. I almost overbalance, except he grips my shoulder, steadying me, then helps me to face forward on my stool. He keeps his big palm flat on the small of my back. Reassuring yet also arousing.
A distinguished older gentleman with silver framed glasses and gray hair enters the room. He’s wearing a suit and tie, but instead of looking severe, something about his face is welcoming.
He smiles at us. "Mr. Hamilton. And Ms. Richie, we’re delighted to have you here."
He lifts the lid of the display with practiced care. Inside, several wedding bands rest in neat rows; their gold and platinum surfaces catching the soft light. “A small selection for you to consider.”
I force myself to gulp calming breaths, to slow my heart rate.
Damn, these almost kisses are almost worse than the actual kisses because now, I’m going to be in a state of wanting to feel his lips on mine.
Which means, I’m going to be dreaming about kissing him and having his big arms around me and his weight on me.
In turn will result in even less sleep than I normally get.
"What do you think?" James turns to me. "It’s your choice."
"You didn’t have to leave the choice to me." I fold my arms across my chest and stare at the road forward.
"I wanted to make sure you liked it. I didn’t give you the chance to choose your engagement ring. I wanted to make sure you had a say in your wedding ring."
The rest of the time in that jewelry shop passed in a daze. I managed to focus long enough to point out the simple platinum wedding bands I wanted, which I knew would complement my engagement ring and also suit James’ controlling personality. I didn’t think he’d want to wear anything flashy.
He didn’t seem to disagree with my choice, which I take as something resembling approval.
"I like the engagement ring. It’s what I’d have picked anyway."
He shoots me a sideways glance, as if to check if I’m telling the truth, then nods. "Good."
For a few seconds, we drive in silence. Then he says, "The wedding bands are a good way to reinforce to the world that our marriage is the real thing. Of course, we don’t have to wear them when we’re not in public."
My heart sinks. My stomach tightens. It shouldn’t make a difference to me, but somehow, I’m gutted.
He must notice my silence because he shoots me another glance. "You okay?"
"Why wouldn’t I be?"
He stops for a red light, then turns to me. "Did I upset you with that?"
For someone who doesn’t show any emotions, he notices all of mine. It’s so annoying. It’s like I can’t hide anything from him. I flatten my lips. "Of course, not." I manage to say in a normal voice.
"Except for in the kitchen, I do plan on wearing my ring."
I whip my head in his direction. "Naturally. We want to present the illusion this is real." I’m such a liar.
"Hmph."
I can tell that my answer annoyed him. It’s as if he doesn’t like being reminded that our marriage is not real. Or maybe that’s my wishful thinking?
The lights change. He moves the car forward.
By the time we reach The Edge, I’ve calmed down somewhat. He parks the car, then turns to me. "Feeling better?"
"I don't know what you're talking about. I’m fine," I say shortly.
I turn to get out of the car, but he catches my hand. His touch sends a surge of electricity racing from the point of contact. I still. Then turn to him to find he has a slightly shocked expression on his face. So, he felt it too. Ha. He hastily releases my hand.
"Moving forward, Henrik will take over cleaning up the restaurant and setting up for the next day so you can leave by ten p.m. each night. That way, you’ll be well-rested for the wedding."
My heart melts a little. "That’s thoughtful of you." I half smile.
His forehead furrows. He seems to be struggling with something internally, then he jerks his chin.
"Of course. I need you to look your best in the pictures taken to send to Margot and my investors."