“Why not?”
“Needed to make sure you weren’t just jerking me around.”
A beat of silence. Cars start to inch around us, and we move forward.
“Do people do that a lot?” he asks.
“What?”
“Jerk you around.”
“No.” But fate does. The stuff that’s happened to me… I don’t even want to think about it. It’s easier to pretend none of it ever occurred and try to minimize the effect on Nonny as much as I can.
He reaches into a pocket and pulls out a small velvet box. “Here. This should do for the engagement ring.”
It’s probably the most unceremonious proposal ever, but I prefer it over some faux romantic gesture. We know what we’re doing. A perfunctory solitaire diamond ring should be fi—
I open the box and gasp. The Asscher-cut diamond is huge. If it were any bigger, it would look positively vulgar. “This… It isn’t real, is it?” I ask, dumbfounded. I can’t imagine how much it must have cost.
He snorts. “Of course it’s real. A little over six carats, I think.”
Of course it’s real. Like a six-carat diamond is nothing. “Look… I can’t accept this.”
“Why not? Too small? The cut not to your liking?”
“No, it’s too big! I can’t wear something like this. What if I lose it?”
“Eh, shit happens. Don’t worry so much, just put it on. It’s what’s expected as my fiancée.” When I don’t move, he takes my nerveless hand into his and slides the ring on my finger. “See? A perfect fit.”
Once it’s on, I can’t help but admire the gorgeous inner fire, the beautifully simple platinum band that showcases the stone. It’s crazy—I’m wearing a ring that cost more than everything I own. And it also makes me apprehensive. What exactly is expected here? It can’t be just sex, can it? For what he’s paid for the ring alone, Elliot could have all the hookers he wants.
Finally, a little after six thirty, we reach a restaurant. La Mer, the sign reads. The clever landscaping and lights around the entrance make the bushes and flowers look like exotic coral and marine life. The maître d’ greets us in a crisp suit.
“Good evening, Mr. Reed.” He smiles at me. “Miss.”
“Good evening,” I murmur.
“Your party is waiting for you.”
I look at Elliot. He hasn’t said a word about other people. I assumed it would be just the two of us.
A lithe blonde in a conservative black dress takes us to the back. The interior of the restaurant is one huge aquarium maze. Dazzlingly colored tropical fish swim around in blue-black water, appearing and disappearing. Some inoffensive classical piano music drifts from the sound system, providing a background for the conversational buzz around us…but not loud enough to drown out the clinking of heavy and well-polished silverware. Looking at the exceptionally dressed and groomed diners, I’m suddenly grateful that Elliot had Josephine work on me. I would’ve been mortified in my old clothes.
We walk around a wall of water. The dark blue light renders it almost, but not quite, opaque. Our guide makes a sharp turn to the left…and there’s our table, which is in the most private corner of the restaurant. A stunning blonde is seated there, her fitted red dress probably as pricey as the one Elliot bought me. But the comfortable air of “this is where I belong” tells me no man bought hers. Her hair is twisted into a simple chignon, and pearls adorn her ears and throat. She says something to a girl beside her, and my body freezes when I realize it’s Nonny. She looks different. No longer in old, Walmart sale clothes, she glows like a princess in a modest teal dress. The fabric is as delicate and soft as butterfly wings, and I know it must’ve cost a fortune.
I shoot Elliot a sharp look, which he studiously ignores. He merely puts a hand at the small of my back and urges me forward.
The blonde turns our way. “Oh good. You made it!”
“Hi!” Nonny waves.
Elliot leans down to kiss the blonde on the cheek. “Of course we did.” He straightens. “I’m surprised you’re on time. Thought you’d be late from the traffic.”
“Never be late for a free dinner.” She winks at Nonny, then turns to me.
I sink into my seat without acknowledging the question on her face. Elliot glides into place next to me. “Gigi,” he says, by way of introduction. I’m certainly not going to tell her my fake name.
Nonny frowns and looks at me, but I shake my head.
If the name Gigi means anything to the blonde, I can’t tell. Her gaze assesses me thoroughly, like I’m a fish on sale. She misses nothing as she takes in my hair, the pricey jewelry on me, and the dress…and the over-the-top ring. Something not entirely comfortable passes in her eyes before a polite smile appears, and then she’s the picture of social grace. “So nice to meet you. I’m Elizabeth.”