Page 19 of Fake it for Keeps

7

COLT

Hallie seemed to have no idea about diamond cuts and clarity. It didn’t really matter. Didn’t she realize the trays we were being shown were examples?

No.

No, she didn’t.

“That one,” I said and picked up the cushion-cut diamond ring. It was four carats. Enough to be eye-catching but not garish.

Monica smiled. “Brilliant choice. I can check with our supplier⁠—”

“We’ll take the floor model,” I said. “I just need a box, please.”

To her credit, Monica didn’t even blink. I’d known her for years, ever since my father had hired her as one of Valenteen’s top sales associates. Like a true professional, she simply nodded and made a note on her tablet.

“Of course, Mr. Jesson. I’ll have it cleaned and prepared for⁠—”

“No need. That’s the one.” I glanced at Hallie, who was staring at the ring like it might be radioactive. She seemed to be frozen, like a deer caught in the headlights of a speeding truck.

Monica hesitated. I could see the question forming behind her professional smile. The floor model wasn’t a real diamond. It was a cubic zirconia in a real platinum setting, something we used for display purposes so we didn’t have to worry about security every time a customer wanted to try something on.

A real diamond in this setting would cost north of three hundred thousand dollars. Hallie didn’t need to know that the actual rock on her finger was worth about three hundred.

I was paying her obscenely well, but I wasn’t about to drop the cost of a luxury sports car on a ring for a woman who wasn’t really my wife. A fake engagement deserved a fake diamond. Simple as that.

“I’ll need you to sign an NDA,” I said to Monica, my tone leaving no room for negotiation. “Standard confidentiality agreement. Everything about this transaction stays between us. You understand.”

“Of course.” She pulled out a tablet and stylus, already pulling up the document. “I’ll have it ready in just a moment. I just signed one of these the other day.”

I nodded at her. “Who was the client?”

Monica grinned back at me and shook her head. “Nice try but I’m not allowed to say.”

“Good answer.”

I turned my attention back to Hallie, who was now examining the other rings in the tray with a polite interest that was starting to grate on my nerves. The employee had brought out at least fifteen different options, and Hallie had responded to each one with the same pleasant, noncommittal smile.

“That’s lovely.”

“Oh, that’s nice too.”

“They’re all so beautiful, I couldn’t possibly choose.”

It was driving me insane.

But there was a part of me that really wanted to show her what being my real fiancée would mean.

“Bring out the three-carat emerald cut,” I said to another hovering employee. “And the cushion-cut halo. The one with the split shank.”

“Right away, Mr. Jesson.”

They scattered like I’d cracked a whip, rushing to fulfill my orders. This was my store, my empire, and everyone here knew it. When I spoke, people moved. That’s how it had always been, and that’s how it would stay.

My father had run Valenteen with an iron fist wrapped in a velvet glove. Firm but fair, demanding but respectful. I’d inherited his business acumen, but I’d left the velvet glove behind. I didn’t have time for coddling or handholding. I needed results, and I needed them now.

“We already have a ring,” Hallie said quietly. “Was it not good enough?”