Page 24 of Filthy Little Regrets
Barbie titters and chatters away, guiding us toward a case with the finest diamonds I’ve ever seen. Mace watches with a bored expression as I try on one that’s a million dollars.
“What about this one, baby?” I ask, pouting my lip.
His eyes linger on my mouth. “If that’s what you want.”
I should have known better than to try and call his bluff. He’s a billionaire. He could probably buy the entire store’s worth of rings and still have plenty of money. Shaking my head, I slip it off and try on a few more. Barbie coos and lavishes me with compliments, but none of them is really my aesthetic. They’re all too big and gaudy. More of a display of money than a profession of love.
This arrangement has nothing to do with love,I remind myself. But if I’m going to have to wear the thing, I should at least like the way it looks. I don’t want to walk around with some ostentatious rock. That’s not who I am or who I’ll ever be.
After trying on a few more, I wander around the store, overly conscious of Mace trailing behind me. His presence raises the hairs on the nape of my neck. I bite my cheek and ignore him, stopping in front of a case with various shades of diamonds.
A row of dark gray ones snares my attention. “Oh, wow,” I murmur.
“Mmm. The black diamonds,” Barbie says, walking around the counter and opening the case with the spiral key ring hanging around her wrist. “Beautiful. A little different, and definitely a statement piece. These are natural black diamonds, not lab-created.” The velvet-lined case quietly clacks against the glass as she sets the tray down.
My eyes fall to a marquise cut with a white gold band. A princess or round cut might have a little more sparkle and shine, but something about the oblong shape calls to me. Barbie patiently waits while I study the other options. My gaze keeps straying back to the marquise.
Mace runs his palm down my spine. “Try it on.”
I shiver and bite my cheek, shooting him an irritated look, but then remember we’re meant to be in love, so I give him a fake smile instead.
“Can I see that one?” I ask.
Barbie nods in approval. “This is a little more modest, at only three carats, but it is quite exquisite.” She helps fit it on my finger.
The ring, as delicate as it is, is surprisingly heavy. The black diamond isn’t shimmering like the others in the store. It’s intense. Not a voidless black, but dark and moody.
More than appropriate, given the situation.
Barbie wiggles it a little to check if the fit is too big, but it’s perfect. “Oh,” she says with a chuckle. “That usually doesn’t happen.”
“Guess it was meant to be,” Mace says.
I wish I could eviscerate him with a simple look. Cheeky motherfucker.
“Well?” Barbie asks with a gentle, warm smile. “Do you feel the love?”
Realizing we’re being watched, I wipe the scowl from my face as my lungs burn, like no matter how much I breathe in, it’ll never be enough air. Fluttering like an erratic butterfly, my pulse races, knowing that, soon enough, I’ll be trapped in a marriage that I can’t afford to escape. I want to run. To kick Mace in the nuts and tell him to get fucked, but I can’t. I don’t get a choice.
Swallowing and ignoring the heavy weight pressing in on me at all sides, I study the ring. “I feel something,” I confess, knees weakening as gravity starts to pull me down. “It’s beautiful.”
“It really is, isn’t it?” She releases my hand and presses her palms to her chest. “Have we found the one?”
“I know I have,” Mace says, tugging me into his side.
It’s a vicious lie. Cruel, even. My gaze cuts to him.Lay off, asshole.He simply smiles and swoops in for a kiss, retreating before I have a chance to pull away. My lips tingle with the echo of his soft caress. I bring my hand up, ready to wipe away the sensation, but drop it when Barbie’sawslices through the air.
“Oh god, you two are so cute together,” she gushes. “And that ring, it’s perfect on you.”
Nice sales tactic, Barbs.
“Do you like it?” Mace asks. “I want you to be happy.”
It’s a battle to keep from rolling my eyes. Who is he trying to kid? Mace loves to piss me off. Our favorite pastimes involve bickering and vaguely threatening one another. The ring is a shackle, trapping me and stealing my future. My life as I know it is over.
“I love it.” The lie curdles inside of me.
Like it or not, I’m going to be Mrs. Astor.
