Page 46 of Strictly Business

I watch her, mesmerized by the way the light hits her eyes, the way her fingers brush against the glass, the little movements she makes when she thinks no one’s paying attention. I’m not sure how I’m supposed to focus on anything else. She’s tying me in knots, and I’m beginning to wonder how much longer I can handle it.

She inhales sharply, shaking her head—like she always does when she’s trying to brush something off—and takes a step back. “No, Nicholas, this is—”

“Necessary,” I interrupt, just for her ears as I take her left hand in mine, my thumb swiping over her empty ring finger. She looks up at me, those green eyes knocking the air out of my chest. “No one will believe you’re my fiancée if you don’t have a rock on your finger.”

Her lips part slightly, processing what I’ve said, and she glances at the rings again before meeting my gaze. Something in her expression twists inside me.

“Excuse me, Mr. Carrington,” I say, glancing at the jeweler who’s watching our interaction. “Could we have a moment alone?”

He hesitates for a beat before placing the display down on the glass table, nodding as he steps back. “Of course. Just call out when you’re ready.”

I nod, relieved to be left alone with her. I need to figure out what the hell’s going on inside this woman’s head. When Mr. Carrington leaves, I don’t let go of her, instead pulling her closer to me. Her gaze meets mine—wide, vulnerable—and I frown at the tightness in her shoulders. “What’s going on, Amara?”

She shakes her head again, avoiding my question.

“I thought every girl’s dream was to be surrounded by diamonds,” I say, trying to lighten the mood, tilting my head.

She lets out a strained laugh, and I hate it. “It is,” she sighs, the smile fading too quickly. “But…” She stops herself, biting her lip.

“But?” I press, needing to know what’s going on.

She lifts her head, finally meeting my eyes, and exhales softly before shaking her head. “I’ve thought about this for a long time,” she starts, her voice quieter now, her gaze dropping to the rings. “Getting proposed to. Getting married.” She sighs, a deep, heavy breath, and I feel it in my chest. “I thought it would happen sometime soon, and I was so excited for it,” she admits. “And now, the first time I put a ring on my finger…” She pauses, her voice wavering. “And it’s all fake.”

Her eyes close, and I can see the tension in her face, the sadness she’s trying to hide. I don’t know what to say at first, unsure of how to make it better. So, I don’t. I stay silent, just holding her close, hoping that my presence can offer some comfort.

“I always thought I’d have a small wedding,” she continues. “Nothing big or over-the-top. Just a few people. Family, friends. A simple, intimate ceremony.”

She doesn’t look at me when she says it, her fingers tracing the smooth surface of the display of rings, the sadness in her eyes slicing through me like a knife. She’s thinking about her ex. That asshole who didn’t deserve her, who couldn’t give her what she needed, who left her feeling empty.

“I wanted ducks.”

I furrow my brow. “Ducks?”

She nods, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “I wanted a small pond with ducks, in the fall breeze with leaves falling, and peonies everywhere.” Her shoulders drop. “I know it sounds silly compared to what you’re used to,” she glances up at me, “but that’s what I’ve always imagined.”

I feel a twinge in my chest at her words. I want her to have that. I want her to have whatever she wants.

I pull her a little closer, gently squeezing her hand. “That doesn’t sound silly at all,” I say, my voice low, trying to offer some comfort. “It sounds beautiful.”

She looks up at me then, her eyes glistening just slightly. “Maybe someday,” she murmurs, her voice quiet.

“Maybe someday,” I echo, my thumb brushing over her knuckles. “I hope I don’t overstep,” I say, “but from what I remember of your ex, he didn’t seem like the kind of guy who’d be willing to give you what you just explained to me.”

She laughs, but it’s a low, bitter sound, one that cuts straight through me. “No, you’re right,” she admits with a heavy breath. “He wasn’t.”

I want to say something else—something to make it better, to fix the look in her eyes—but she continues, and my chest tightens at her next words. “Maybe that’s why he cheated.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut, but I can’t tell if it’s the thought of her ex or the way she says it that gets to me the most.

“Maybe I pushed him too much,” she continues. “I shouldn’t have talked about wedding plans so much or shown him the folder I made for ours. I should’ve known better.”

I don’t think—just act. I step closer, my hand reaching out before I can stop it, my palm gently cupping her face. She looks up at me, startled for a second, but I don’t back away. I can’t.

“Don’t,” I say, my voice hard, the words coming out more intense than I mean. “Don’t you dare lower your standards for some bastard who wasn’t willing to give you what you wanted.”

She gulps, her skin warm against my hand. I can feel the tremor in her. “You deserve more than that, Amara,” I continue. “I have no doubt in my mind that there’s a guy out there who’d fall flat on his face just to give you everything you want and more.”

Her breath catches. I see the tiniest flicker in her eyes, the softness in her gaze as she stares at me. She doesn’t say anything for a moment, but I can tell I’ve gotten through to her. And god, I want her to know just how much she deserves better than the way she’s been treated.

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