The Fabrizio Bride

Chapter Ten

A quiver of excitement raced through her before she squashed it and glowered at Rafe.

Monsieur Billaud smiled primly, then took her hand and bowed over it, saying, "A pleasure, Mademoiselle Dkany," with a thick French accent.

Brows rising at his quirky behavior, she resisted the urge to curtsy. "Likewise, I'm sure."

"Monsieur Billaud brought up a case of his latest rings for you to look at."

"Rafe, I don't think—"

"There are some spectacular designs—to be worn on any finger. Just take a look."

Under Billaud's hopeful gaze, she allowed herself to be led to a sitting area where a steel suitcase with a lock and handcuff on the handle sat on a glass coffee table.

Inside, diamonds and other jewels were set in an array of precious metals and settings. Sarika was almost blinded by their splendor. She held back at first, but soon the temptation was too much and she started randomly trying on rings—on her right hand. One ring in particular called to her: a round, brilliant-cut, six-carat diamond on a platinum band inlaid with pavé diamonds. It fit her hand perfectly, neither gaudy in its opulence nor awkward to wear.

"An excellent choice," Billaud said. "The cut, color, and clarity are spectacular, and the platinum band displays the stone without distracting from it. I agree with your choice of carat as well. While some may feel bigger is best, in this case, your hand is better suited to this size diamond. Bravo."

"Oh no, I'm not choosing it. I'm just...admiring it—like all the others. Rafe understands." She pinned him with her stare. "Don't you?"

"Absolutely." He said it in a way that told her the ring would show up on her bedside table one of these mornings alongside her coffee and croissant.

After that, Monsieur Billaud packed up his case and took his leave.

Rafe leaned forward as soon as they were alone and nuzzled her throat. Sarika considered pushing him away, but the truth was, she wanted to hold him close. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she leaned back on the leather couch and shut her eyes.

"Did you like the rings?" he asked. "The one at the end was especially beautiful."

She tugged on his hair—a gentle reprimand that he ignored. "We're not engaged, Rafe. Even if you buy it for me, I haven't agreed to marry you."

"And you haven't agreed not to, either. You said you were going to fight for me."

She pulled his head back to look at him and quirked her brow. "Does that mean you're willing to talk to me now?"

He paused, eyes narrowed. "Within the boundaries of what we discussed last night."

"So that means anything unpleasant in your past is off-limits, but the present and future are fair game?"

That muscle twitched in his jaw. "I suppose so."

A smile creased her face, and she sat up, reaching for her bag. "In that case, I bought you a present."

When she handed him the gift-wrapped book, he gazed at it skeptically. "Is this one of those maudlin, self-help things people read?"

"I'll have you know some of those books give very good advice and can inspire a person to take positive steps toward their future." She pointed a finger at him. "Do not roll your eyes."

He raised a brow instead, then looked back at the gift. With one swift move, he ripped the paper off and threw it to the floor. His forehead creased as he perused the cover. "A thesaurus?"