Page 98 of Bound

Or maybe Paige’s.

Depends which one of them tells it.

“What?” Paige asks, catching my stare.

“Thinking.”

“Dangerous habit in this family.”

Bronson’s mouth curves. “She would know.”

Paige narrows her eyes at him. “I run this store.”

“You do.”

“Brilliantly.”

“You do.”

She looks back at me. “He gave me Bachman’s because he thought I needed purpose.”

“I gave you Bachman’s because you were better at it than me,” Bronson says.

“You had never done paperwork in your life.”

“I had people.”

“You had chaos in suits.”

His mouth moves again. “Then we tried suburban life in the Hamlet.”

“And now, we’re back in the city.” Paige beams. “And I’ll never, ever leave the Village again.”

“I know.”

The look of love he gives her is so intense, I feel like an outsider. I look away.

A strange ache opens behind my ribs.

I want Erin.

Paige steps farther into the office and sets the red leather box on the desk. “When Bronson gave me this store, I thought he was giving me diamonds,” she says. “He wasn’t.”

Bronson’s expression changes.

Subtly.

The way ours do when women unknowingly put their hands on the softest part of us.

“He gave me a place to become someone,” Paige continues. “A place that was mine. Not because I stole it. Not because I dreamed about it from the sidewalk. Because I earned it.”

She opens the red box.

Tucked inside the red velvet is Erin’s ring.

Gold band.

Four-carat princess-cut diamond.