Page 64 of Mafia and Gold Digger

And for some reason, this fake engagement thing reminds me of how Ronnie humiliated me, making it clear to the entire world that I wasn’t good enough to marry. That I’m unlovable. That I’m worthless. And although I barely know Saint, the word ‘fake’ keeps echoing in my mind. Because even if something were to develop between Saint and me, a man like him would never in a million years want me as arealfiancée, right? I shake my head. Why on earth am I even thinking about this? It’s not as if there’s anything but sex between us, right?

Snatching up my phone, I search the internet and scroll through a list of local jewelry stores, trying to muster some excitement. And with a sigh, I pick a store that’s known for specializing in high-end engagement rings, and then I go and get dressed.

* * *

The chime of the jewelry store door trills as I step inside, the bodyguards behind me but keeping a discreet distance. The scent of polished wood and faintly fragrant perfume fills the air, mingling with the hum of conversation. Glittering showcases line the walls, each one a treasure trove of brilliance. My eyes scan the room, taking in the array of gold, silver, and platinum jewelry adorned with precious stones that shimmer under the soft lighting.

The store is already busy. I look around at the couples choosing rings together, looking lovingly into each other’s eyes. And I realize I’m the only one here without my partner…without a man who loves me.

I approach the counter.

“How can I assist you today?” a woman behind the glass display case says, her voice smooth and refined.

“I’m looking for something special,” I reply, glancing down at the rings nestled on plush velvet. “An engagement ring.” I point to a tray. “I’d like to see those.”

Her eyes light up with a professional gleam. “Of course.” She reaches into the case and pulls out a tray of diamond rings, each one more stunning than the last. I look them over, feeling a small sense of excitement bubbling up inside me.

As I peruse the options, the assistant plucks one from the tray after she sees me eyeing it up. “This is a particularly elegant ring. It’s a princess cut. Very sophisticated.”

“Itisgorgeous,” I say slowly.

“Here, try it on,” she encourages me.

Slipping it onto the ring finger of my left hand, I’m taken straightaway with its exquisite design and the way it catches the light. “How much does it cost?” I ask, already bracing myself for the answer.

“It’s priced at two hundred thousand dollars,” she announces. And the excitement inside me immediately deflates because he did mention something about me spending 100K, so he obviously had a budget in mind.

I look through the rest of the rings on the tray and point out another one to try on. She plucks it from its velvet cushion and hands it to me.

It’s beautiful and fits perfectly. “And the price?” I ask carefully.

“One million dollars.”

Oh gosh, this isn’t going well at all. I continue browsing the rest of the rings on the tray, but not being really drawn to any of them, I point out another tray to look at.

As soon as it’s set in front of me, one ring catches my eye. It’s a masterpiece. Three huge flawless diamonds in an intricate setting on a platinum band. The trio of diamonds catches the light in a way that creates a mesmerizing array of colors, each facet gleaming with unparalleled brilliance. “That one,” I say, pointing to it. The assistant smiles as she carefully lifts it from the tray and hands it to me. I slip it on, and it fits perfectly. I hold my hand up to the light, turning it slowly, marveling at the way it sparkles.

“This is an exquisite piece,” she remarks. “The main diamonds are superb, and the band is crafted from the finest platinum and lined with more diamonds.”

“How much?” I ask.

“Two point five million dollars,” she responds, her tone respectful and matter-of-fact. “It’s the weight of the diamonds but also their quality,” she adds almost apologetically. “Excellent cut, flawless clarity, and colorless means that these diamonds are the closest to perfection that anyone will get.”

“Two point five million dollars?”Holy crap.I gaze around myself, and my heart dips. Would it really have hurt Saint to come with me today instead of going to work? If he came with me, maybe I wouldn’t feel like such a loser among all these lovestruck couples surrounding me…

“Yes, two point five million,” the assistant confirms.

The number hangs in the air for a moment, almost surreal.

And my face lights up as I come up with a plan.

This ring is over ten times the price of the first ring I tried—meaning that it’s absolutely perfect.

“I’ll take it,” I say with relish, sliding Saint’s black Amex over to her.

Her eyes practically flash with dollar signs as she mentally calculates her commission on the piece, and she leads me to a private room to complete the transaction. I have to give that fingerprint authorization thing, and I assume it’s for high value transactions. The process is smooth and efficient, and soon, the ring is mine. “Congratulations,” she says warmly. “This is a truly remarkable piece.”

“Thank you.” And after leaving the jeweler’s, I have a little more shopping to do, and I practically skip along the sidewalk as I head to the next store on my list.

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