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But I can’t tell her that. She would run the other way and then be more exposed than ever.
So what answer can I give her other than…
“Maybe I like the idea of you belonging to me.” I scoot to the edge of my chair so I can crowd her space. I grab the arms of her chair and yank them toward me so she’s facing me. The floor is carpet, but I make the chair slide like it’s on ice.
She looks at me in shock. With one swift jerk of the chair, I drag her as close to me as I can, so that her legs are between mine. So that her body has nowhere to move. Then I lean into her, bringing my lips right against her cheek. So that my breath tickles her ears when I say, “YOU’RE MINE.”
Her eyes flash, but not before I get a little reaction from her shaky breath. “I don’t belong to anyone. The sooner you realize that, the easier it will be for you.”
She tries to wiggle away from me, but that just strengthens my resolve to hold on to the arm of the chair even tighter. She scowls at me, narrowing her dark eyes on me, pouting those hot pink lips.
She has no idea what that look does to me.
I should let go. But I can’t. Just like I can’t stand the thought of another man touching her. And if I’m being honest with myself, that’s the true reason I agreed to marry her. She can hate me all she wants. But she’ll be safe in my home. However unconventional this might be. I’ve written off a conventional marriage anyway.
“Once you put on my ring, Magpie, you’ll be all mine. So you might as well try it on that pretty finger so we can get to the fun stuff.”
“And what do you think is fun? Drinking yourself stupid and getting into fights?”
I take hold of her left hand and reach for the pink ring. It sparkles in her eyes as she takes it in.
Keeping my eyes on her, I slide it on her finger. It’s a perfect fit. No sizing required.
The snarl on her face momentarily softens when she looks down at her hand. Her lips part, and there’s a noticeable change on her face, as though the lighting in this little room has brightened by her expression. Or maybe it’s the way the diamond shines in her eyes.
For those fleeting moments, her guard is down. She’s the Maggie I knew a few months ago. Before Owen’s wedding. Before I became the subject of her ire. Back when she had flirty smiles for me. When her laughter was open and impulsive. Unencumbered.
This ring was made for her. The true her. The soft her.
But the moment is short lived. A door shuts at the other side of the shop, and Mr. Sorokin’s whistle gets louder as he approaches. Maggie yanks her hand from me and removes the ring from her finger, plunking it back down in the velvet case.
She clears her throat and I distance myself from her just as Mr. Sorokin enters the room.
“Well then,” he says. “Sorry I have to leave for a time. You like ring, enchanting lady?”
She does that thing where she curls into herself.
“I think the smaller one will do,” she says. “I’m sorry. I have a headache.”
“We can do another day. It’s okay. Anton make time for you. It’s all good.”
“No, it’s fine. The first one is great. Let’s go with that one.”
“Yes, yes,” he says with a forced smile. “Whatever woman likes, yes?” He looks to me for reassurance.
“Whatever she likes,” I repeat back.
“Love at first sight is easy to understand; it’s when two people have been looking at each other for a lifetime that it becomes a miracle.”
— SAM LEVENSON
6
SAWYER
Everyone’s thinking it but nobody wants to say it out loud.
She’s not coming.
