Chapter 4
Harrison
It takes me two solid hours to knock out everyone left on my list.
By the end of it, my ears are numb, and my fingers feel one bad move away from cracking clean off, and I’ve looped the same block so many times I’m practically on a first name basis with the guy selling roasted nuts.
And still…
I end up in the same place.
The jewelry store.
Probably because the diamond in the window is roughly the size of a bowling ball and throwing off enough light to guide ships to port.
And all I can think about is Pix.
I pick up my phone, thumb hovering over her name. Like it has a few times a day since she went back to L.A.
I almost think this might be the day I do it when a text cuts in.
Henry Bloom
We need to talk.
Of course we do.
Manhattan’s most expensive attorney, calling me from what I’m pretty sure is a month in St. Barts.
He’s texted every day this week.
And every day, I’ve ignored him.
I stare at the screen a second longer, then slip the phone into my pocket.
“That ring’s quite the stunner,” a guy in a suit says, materializing at my elbow like he’s been summoned by commission alone.
He cinches his scarf tighter. “It’s freezing out here.” Then, with a flourish, he swings open the door. “Come on in. It looks even better inside.”
Subtle.
Like a bright neon sign screaming SPEND YOUR LIFE SAVINGS HERE.
I lift a hand. “Oh, no, I was just—”
Across the street, Zac, Hannah, and Mrs. D. spill out of a boutique, laughing loudly, shopping bags swinging.
Shit.
If they catch me loitering outside a jewelry store, chatting up the salesman of the year, I’ll never hear the end of it.
I flick a glance back at Scarf Guy, who’s still holding the door for me.
I walk in. “Yeah. Sure. I’ll, uh, take a look.” I narrow my eyes. “Just a quick look,” I warn sternly. The last thing I need is this guy getting excited over a non-existent commission.
“Of course. Right this way, sir.” His smile widens as he ushers me in past a guard who looks like he bench-presses small cars. We move swiftly past a second set of glass doors and inside.
Comforting warmth hits me first. Then the sparkle.
The place gleams like Snooki detonated a glitter bomb in here. Every surface catches the light, which apparently has the power to melt my brain.
I look down at the cases and, against all logic, start wondering what Pix would like.
Because I’ve had a ring in my head for a while now…
“Champagne?” the salesman offers smoothly. Then, changes his mind. “No, wait. You’re a bourbon man, aren’t you?”
Jeez. Is it written on my forehead?
“I’ve got just the thing for a day like this.” He gestures, and another associate appears out of thin air with a bottle.
Single Barrel Bourbon. Gold edition, no less.
I know I shouldn’t. But I’m still thawing from the cold.
And it’s my favorite.
When he pours a generous two fingers, I take the glass.
“Thanks.” I glance around, then narrow my eyes at him. “But I really am just looking.”
“Of course, sir. Feel free to browse as long as you like.”
An hour later, Sebastian’s topping off my glass like we’re old friends.
It’s a miracle I haven’t blacked out in his showroom.
I like this guy.
The bags I walked in with are spread across a counter behind him, three assistants in the middle of wrapping everything up like Santa’s overpaid elves.
Thank God.
Because despite the fact that I’ve led twenty successful missions in six different countries, my gift-wrapping looks like I did it wearing oven mitts… during a blackout.
“I think we’re almost there, sir.” Sebastian turns a tablet toward me. “Is this what you had in mind?”
The mockup rotates slowly on the screen.
And it’s mesmerizing.
I stare at the ring, the way it turns, catching light from an assortment of angles.
But there’s something about it. Something that feels bright. Like laughter. Like… Pix.
I take another sip. “Is it just me, or does it look like a marigold?” I ask, genuinely interested. “It’s her favorite flower.”
Sebastian leans in slightly. “Is it? Let’s try something.” He insists, his enthusiasm contagious.
Wide eyes, I watch.
He makes a few adjustments and studies my expression.
By the time he’s done, I swear, this man is a freaking mind reader.
“The center stone is classically round. Stylish. Timeless.” Sebastian zooms in. “An elegant band and a halo of canary diamonds, but not delicate. Knife-edge platinum, polished to a mirror shine so bright you can see it from space.”
“Really?” I glance at him, completely serious. “Do you… think she’ll like it?”
Not that Sebastian has any idea who she is. But the man feels weirdly qualified.
He taps the screen, and the ring rotates, catching the light from every angle, shining like a disco ball.
“Any woman would be nuts not to love it,” he assures me. Then, with a small smile, he lifts a brow. “She’s not nuts, right?”
I shake my head. “I don’t think so.”
“Perfect.” He slides the tablet toward me. “Sign here, and we’ll get started.”
He scrolls quickly past the price. A number I usually associate with luxury car purchases.
And you know what?
I don’t even care.
I scribble my name with ease and hand over my card.
Because Pix is worth it.