Page 12 of Legacy of Deception

It was okay.

Really, it was.

Because this was it.

This was the moment, and I already knew that once he opened it, it was going to be one of the most valuable pieces in my collection. It might not have been as small as a ring box should’ve been, but that only meant it held a respectable-sized rock.

Looking down as he slowly began to open it, I already had my reaction planned. I would slam into his chest, clutching his shirt as I gazed up at him and saw a man who was more than just a pain in my rear end.

“A blue candy ring?” The tips of my ears reddened as anger acted as a toxin filling my lungs, the feeling thick and hard, leaving me nearly paralyzed from speech.

A plastic setting.

A giant ring made of teeth-rotting hard candy.

That tasted like blue raspberry.

It was sticky.

It was valueless.

It was…a joke.

Images flashed through my mind of lunging for him, but I remained calm. Composed. Because, unlike him, I understood what we were trying to accomplish. It would do neither one of us any good to cause a scene in public. Plus, we didn’t know when Frankie would be back.

He jerked his chin toward the meaningless box. “This is the best you’re getting, so if I were you, I would take it.”

The words weren’t coming to me, so I gave him an icy look.

Astonishingly, he remained standing there, clueless to the fact that I was about to raise my hand and watch it collide forcefully with the side of his face. So, I did just that, slapping him, which was exactly what he deserved in my opinion.

“What do you want from me, bella?” he asked silkily, closing the lid on the box and tucking it back into his pocket where it came from.

A strange feeling gripped me as he didn’t make a move to coddle the sting I was sure he had. Even as it grew red, he only stood there, smugly staring at me.

From our initial meeting, discussing the lay of this ridiculous new reality, I knew he was going to make this far from easy. But, my goodness, there had to be an understanding, a common ground we could both meet on. This engagement was as impersonal and humiliating as it got. An object, like a ring, that I was asking for, wasn’t going to change that, but it was a silver lining I was trying to find in a scenario that only made my chest feel tight. “For you to stop fighting this. You know, like you told me to do. Seems like you can dole out the advice, but you can’t follow it yourself.”

“There’s a difference between fighting it and not being happy about it. I choose the latter since I can’t have the former.” He was being brusque about it, once again that dismissive demeanor shining through above all else.

A deep groan threatened to come out, but instead, I swallowed past it, turning around and tossing my hands in the air. “Well, you can’t have either.” When my hands came down rather abruptly, they slammed into my sides, and it was as though I almost needed that. “People will start to question things.”

I turned back around, but neither one of us said anything more, a strained pause filling the air.

I knew there had to be a reason why he was doing this, and something told me he didn’t have the finest relationship with his father. In knowing Capri, and being around the family, I noticed Marco was the leading participant in most events. They were never business networking events either. More so social ones that he probably had no interest in attending, let alone having a hand in. I didn’t have the whole story, though, and I doubted he was ready to elaborate. And why should he? This was nothing more than a means to an end. I was nothing more to him than a means to an end. Whatever end that was for him.

Just as he was for me.

“If people started to question the veracity of this, it would probably be because you slapped me outside in broad daylight.” He winked cockily, and passed me by, walking down the stairs and away from me.

It felt like there was a drum set in my chest. “Lover’s spat,” I nearly shouted, rolling my lips as I abruptly turned around. My eyes narrowed, and I hoped they scorched his back, penetrating a hole through him, anything to dare him to glance over his shoulder. To give me one look. To acknowledge me. Which meant maybe this union wouldn’t be pure hell. Because so far, we were like two caged animals, a punishment to one another with no way out and no way of letting anything in, including peace.

He got down to the bottom of the stairs and then gazed up at me. “Not possible,” he finally responded.

“And what makes you an expert on the subject?”

Tucking his hands into the pockets of his pants, he sighed. “Never said I was. Although, I’m pretty sure you have to actually be lovers for that to be true.”

“Fine. Screw this all up.” Slowly walking to meet him, I glided my hand down one side of the handrail. “What do I care?” I pursed my lips. “Engagement photos are supposed to be authentic. They’re supposed to be of couples, real couples, walking hand in hand, strolling down Fourth Street, and gazing into each other’s eyes instead of looking for oncoming traffic.”