Billionaires Dollar Series

But that seems better left unstated.

“I think the key word in that statement was act,” Liam says, putting a hand on the diamond-shaped door handle to the jewelers. “And we’re just about to get our first trial run. After you, Maddie.”

I step past him into the brightly lit store and nod to the security guard by the entrance. Two attendants look over to see us enter. One gives us a bright hello, while the other’s gaze drops to my clothes.

See? I want to tell Liam. There are dress codes in places like this!

But their attention snaps to Liam as soon as he puts a hand on my low back. “Ladies,” he says. “I’m sorry we didn’t call ahead to book a time, but we need a consultation.”

“That’s quite all right, Mr. Carter,” the older one says, her hair in an elegant French twist. “What are you looking for today?”

Mr. Carter, is it? Is he a frequent customer here? My mind fills with images of beautiful women, draped in diamonds that he can now afford by the dozen. I push the image away.

Liam looks down at me. “An engagement ring.”

“Oh! Congratulations! Willa, please get our clients something to drink. What would you like? A glass of champagne?”

I open my mouth to reply, but Liam is faster. “Champagne would be great.”

“It’s coming right up. Now, these two counters have the widest selection,” she says, smiling down at the rows of rings. “We have it all, and if there’s something you can’t find, we’re skilled at bespoke.”

“That won’t be-”

“We’ll bear it in mind,” Liam says.

“You two have a look and see if anything speaks to you. Remember, every band can be adjusted or made in a different material. Gold, white-gold, platinum.”

My head feels dizzy with all the wealth on display, the rows and rows of diamonds and sapphires.

“Thank you,” I say, reaching for the glass of champagne the younger attendant offers us.

By this point, I could use it, and I don’t care that it’s only mid-afternoon.

Liam’s hand stays on my low back. His touch is casual, like we do this all the time. “Which one do you like?” he asks. The scent of cologne and coffee hits me, delicious and masculine.

I blink, focusing on the diamonds neatly arranged like trophies in a hunting case. My eyes catch on a modest diamond on a platinum band. “How about that one?”

The attendant unlocks the case without a word, holding it out for me to try. It’s big, but it slides on my finger well enough.

“Maybe,” Liam says, but dislike is clear in his voice.

You’re not the one who’s going to wear it, buddy. “I like it,” I say.

His fingers dip into the groove of my lower back.

“But honey,” he says, leaning in so the attendant can’t hear him, “a woman I proposed to wouldn’t wear anything that small. It won’t look realistic.”

I raise an eyebrow at him, and the attendant drifts away to give us room. “So this is about you looking good?”

“It’s about both of us looking good,” he counters. “What about that one?”

He’s pointing to an engagement ring with a diamond the size of a golf ball.

“I’ll break my finger with that one on.”

He snorts. “Of course you won’t.”

“A sprain, at the very least. A stressed ligament.”

“What about this one, then?”

It’s better, but the diamond is still of a preposterous size. “You really want to give me that to wear? You’re not afraid I’ll drop it?”

“I’ll pay for insurance,” he says. “So? What do you think?”

“I think you’re going about this the wrong way,” I say, turning so that we’re face-to-face. We’re closer than I’d be to anyone I wasn’t actually engaged to, but seeing as we’re acting…

Liam’s hand tightens on my waist. “Yes?”

“You want to prove that you’re value-driven. That you’re family-oriented. Right?”

“Right,” he echoes.

“I don’t know these people, but I’m guessing they won’t be impressed with me having a diamond you can spot from space.”

He frowns, like I’m making sense and he doesn’t like it.

“Let’s meet halfway then,” he says, looking down at the case. “Choose something that’s in-between, honey.”

I lean over the counter, aware of how close we’re standing. It takes me a minute until I find one that’ll work. An emerald-cut diamond with a halo of brilliants on a platinum band.

It’s not massive. It’s not small.

“Excellent choice,” the attendant says, pulling it out of the case. “Let’s see it on…”

It’s one of the most surreal experiences of my life, pushing the grimy sleeve of my hoodie up and watching her slide the otherworldly ring onto my finger.

Her polished nails are a stark contrast to mine, cut short and polish-less. Nothing else works in a kitchen.Please check at N/ôvel(D)rama.Org.

“Look at that,” she murmurs.

“It’s perfect.”

Liam’s voice is decisive. “We’ll take it.”

“Of course, sir. Let me just get the sizing correct…”

As she fiddles with my finger, I shoot Liam a look. It’s a we-don’t-know-how-expensive-this-ring-is kind of look.