Page 92 of Secrets (The Sins Trilogy 2)
Chapter Thirty-Three
Anthony
Masako presents the ring on a tray covered in black velvet. It wasn’t finished as quickly as I wanted, but I had trouble deciding between sapphires, rubies and yellow diamonds. I told her maybe we should create one of each—there are anniversaries to come. However, she informed me dryly that the pearls of such size and quality are very rare, and she doesn’t have three if I want all of them to be exactly of the same size, luster and flawlessness.
So at the end, I chose rubies. The platinum band is gorgeous, with tiny diamonds embedded all around, set to look like twinkling stars. In the center sits the huge white pearl with a slightly pink tone. It glows as though emitting its own light. Tiny rubies surround the perfectly round stone like flames of the sun. Every gem is of exceptional quality, and as a whole, the ring is superbly elegant and beautiful.
Exactly what Iris deserves.
“What do you think?” Masako asks.
“Perfect.” I hand her my plastic.
“Your fiancée will be the happiest woman in the world when you give her this ring. It’s some of my best work.”
I grin. I can just see Iris. She’ll place her hands on her face in shocked delight, her eyes glinting with joy. Then she’ll say yes to my proposal. I’ll put the ring on her slim, delicate finger so everyone knows she’s mine. All mine.
As one of Masako’s clerks puts the ring in an elegant black box and wraps everything up, my heart is swelling with possibilities and exuberant happiness.
“A pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Blackwood,” Masako says.
“You can call me Anthony,” I say, taking the ring.
My phone rings. I check the number. Byron Fucking Pearce. What the hell does he want? Did he lose the succession war because of me? I almost snort. Hope he’s not expecting sympathy.
“Blackwood,” I say coldly.
TJ opens the car door, and I hop in. He starts driving back toward the office.
“You manipulative shit. What the fuck did you do?”
“That’s a pretty broad question.” If this were several days earlier, I might think he was mad about Ryder taking over the music initiative, but he should’ve gotten over that by now. “Be specific. I’ve been very productive since last time we saw each other.”
“You don’t deserve Rizzy. I don’t give a shit what garbage you’re filling her head with.”
Ah. He’s upset because he’s finally realizing he has no chance as long as I’m around. I concede—only to myself—that I probably don’t deserve Iris, but that doesn’t mean I’m ever giving her up. Or putting up with abusive calls. “Too bad she’s with me, not you. And never will be with you.” Petty feelings of jealousy and hatred entwine in my heart, and I add, “You’ve been friend-zoned, buddy. You’re done.” I end the call.
The ring sits perfectly on my palm. I turn the box, studying the elegant container. Engagement. Marriage. The next logical steps in our relationship. Even three months ago, I didn’t think I’d ever marry. But here I am. All because I found her again.
I want her to have everything I can give her—my money, my influence, my name. The next time Sam threatens to declare her mentally incompetent, he’s going to have to go through me. Husbands have a lot more say than boyfriends. And I’ll destroy the motherfucker for daring to come near my wife.
My phone buzzes with a text. Jesus. Will that loser ever give up?
I’m tempted to ignore it, but glance at the screen.
It’s Elizabeth.
Iris isn’t feeling well, so she went home. Thought you should know.
“Turn the car around. We’re going home,” I say to TJ, my throat suddenly dry.
Every time Iris isn’t well, I’m scared shitless. Logically I know she is going to get sick from time to time, but emotionally I can’t shake off the dread of something happening to her and me being too late. It’s happened so many times already. I was too late to stop two fucking rapist wannabes from touching her. And Sam at his home. Again too late to stop him from pushing her into the water…
“Step on it,” I add, my heart no longer racing with joy but with apprehension.
I start to call Bobbi, then stop. If she’s driving, she shouldn’t be on the phone, not even on speaker, and get distracted. I call Iris, but she doesn’t answer. I hang up and text her. Call me.
She doesn’t.
