GRIFFIN
The silent treatment continues.
She hasn't said a word to me since I picked her up. We drove for 20 minutes in the car. Nothing. I even sped up unnecessarily so she would ask me to slow down. She didn't.
It was getting irritating and my patience was wearing thin.
I stop outside of the jewelers, parking the car and getting out. Harry Winston. Ariel used to have a strange obsession with their diamonds. I don't know if she still admires them but I couldn't think of a better place to bring her for her ring.
When it came to her, every little thing she ever said was stored away in my brain. I remembered everything she had ever told me she liked, stuff she preferred, things she despised. Everything.
And if she realised it or not, she'd told me in much detail exactly what kind of ring she would want one day. And I had made sure to remember every detail because I always knew I would make her my wife.
I just didn't know it would be like this.
I round the car to open her door, but a chauffeur does it, offering her his hand, which she takes.
My skin crawls at the sight. Everyone can touch her but me. She can hug Damon, hold a chauffeur's hand, carry Ace. Everyone but me.
I am also the only one that accused her of using her body to--
I close my eyes. Don't go there.
Ariel smiles, taking away her hand, "Thankyou." she nods.
I watch them as he leads her all the way to the door, opening that for her aswell.
I walk in behind her, glaring at the chimp who cowers away. Bastard.
ARIEL
"Welcome in Mr. and Mrs. Moretti." The sales woman inside of Harry Winston greets with a huge smile.
My own smile falls at that.
Mr. and Mrs. Moretti.
We're not married yet woman, come on.
I glance to the brooding man stood beside me who looks unfazed by her address to us.
"We are delighted you chose us to help you with this exciting choice in your nuptials. Congratulations." She smiles. I smile back politely when she looks at Griffin, as if scared for her life.
"Please, sit. What are you looking for Mrs.-"
"Ariel is fine." I quickly stop her. She looks surprised but nods. "I don't have a preference, anything will do." I smile nonchalantly.
She starts talking about the different styles and stones, gesturing to the glass cases filled with extravagant diamonds. Each looks more expensive than the first and I just feel so overwhelmed.
How am I supposed to pick a ring when I didn't pick the wedding itself? We're getting married because I'm trying to save my family from him. And his reason is some sort of huge mafia mystery.
I watch the woman enthusiastically present me with her best options and I can't help but feel so guilty. Everyone seems to think this is the best thing to ever happen to me. My parents, grandfather, Mama. The tabloids. Even this ring sales woman.
I wish I could tell them its all fake.
The lady beams, asking me which one of the six she's put out I would like to try on. I gulp down the detachment I feel from this entire moment and randomly point to the third one from the right.
