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His eyes flare dangerously. “You always look good,roza.It doesn’t matter what you’re wearing. You could be in an evening gown, a brown paper bag—or, hey, here’s an idea: nothing at all.”
I swat his shoulder. “You’re such a charmer.”
“I save it all for you.” He slips my second shoe on and secures the clasp. “I do have the perfect thing to finish the look, though.”
Rising, he produces a black box from his back pocket. A silk ribbon is tied neatly on top.
“Arsen…” I take the box from him. “What did you do?”
“Nothing you don’t deserve.”
I pull gently at the ribbon, but Arsen is impatient. He shreds through the silk and rips open the lid for me.
My mouth drops.
A diamond rose lies nestled in the center of the box. Each petal is a glistening quartet of diamonds around a bud that is the single biggest diamond I’ve ever seen.
“Incredible,” I breathe because I can’t manage anything else.
Arsen plucks the ring from the box and slips it on my finger. “Just like you.”
My hand drops to my lap under the weight. I swear I’d sink straight to the bottom of the ocean with this thing on. “Arsen, it’s too much.”
“I say it’s perfect.” He stands and holds out a hand for me. “Come on. A second ago, you were worried about being late.”
“We will be now!” I let my left hand flop limply at my side. “I can’t even lift this thing. You’ll need to deliver me by crane.”
“Can do. Tonight is the official beginning of our alliance with the Italians. We might as well make our arrival one to remember.”
I’m still scared, though. “This ring should be in a coded vault somewhere. It’s too big and flashy to be worn out in public.”
“Which is exactly why you’re going to wear it.” He raises my hand to his mouth, kissing the skin just below the ring. “This ring is its own kind of statement.”
“And what does it say?”
“It says,‘I’m Arsen Adamov’s wife. Stay the hell out of my way.’”
As it turns out, I don’t need a ring to declare me Arsen’s wife. He’s doing a fine job of it on his own.
He never leaves my side. As we move around the restaurant, his hand lingers on the small of my back or his arm wraps around my waist as though he can’t bear to not touch me even for a moment.
Even when important allies walk up to him, Arsen refuses to let me out of his sight. He introduces me immediately and people trip over themselves to compliment my dress or how great we look together.
“Wow, people really bend over backwards around you, don’t they?” I marvel when an older gentleman nearly chokes on his veal just to greet Arsen as we pass by.
Arsen shrugs. “They know on which side their bread is buttered.” His eyes are trained on a spot somewhere near the entrance, his forehead creasing slightly.
I follow it, but I don’t see anything worth the concern. “Everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine,” he murmurs, but the answer comes across a little rushed. “Can I get you another drink?”
“Two glasses of champagne is my limit. I’m a lightweight these days.”
He snags another glass from a passing waiter and hands it to me anyway. His attention is still caught on something by the door.
“Arsen, if there’s something going on?—”
He shakes his head, finally looking down at me. “Sorry. It’s Jasper.”
