I glare at him, not saying a word. He’s not a mind reader, I realize this, but I wish he could understand me without having to explain myself.
His smile fades the longer I say nothing and his brows draw close. “What exactly did we forget?”
“The ring. A ring. Any ring.” I quickly glance over my shoulder to find both the photographer and my mother watching us. The photographer—her name is Susan—even picks her camera back up and starts taking more photos. Of us.
Oh God. I’m tense and stressed and I don’t want her taking photos of this moment. This conversation. My skin grows tight. Itchy. I feel as if I could burst from the unwanted attention.
I turn to face Perry once more, my nerves making me sweat. “She’s taking photos of us right now.”
“These aren’t official,” he says with a frown, his gaze lifting to watch Susan. He scowls at her, his jaw tightening, yet she keeps snapping away. “It’s no big deal.”
To him. Despite not wanting to participate in this photo session, we have a performance to make. And we need to be convincing. Or at least I do.
I want him to believe I want this. Maybe he’ll get swept up in the moment. Maybe he’ll be halfway convinced that I want to be with him. Men are simple creatures when it comes to sex, right? I flash a little leg and it renders Perry stupid.
What I need is to get over my wariness when it comes to men touching me and somehow convince Perry that I want him.
That’s going to be a challenge.
“We’re supposed to look like a happy couple who are in love, remember?” I allow him to pick up my hands because that looks real, right? Something a loving couple would do?
He’s clutching them tight, and his hands are large, with long fingers that interlace with mine. Despite how warm his hands are, I’m still filled with the sudden urge to pull away.
It’s just—automatic whenever someone puts their hands on me. I don’t like it when people touch me.
I never really have.
“Your hands are like ice,” he murmurs, giving them a squeeze. A distressed noise leaves me, but it’s as if he doesn’t even notice. “And don’t worry. I’ve already got you.”
“What do you mean?” Unable to take it, I pull my hands out of his, tempted to wipe them on my dress but I restrain myself.
“The ring issue. Took care of it.” He lifts his hand in greeting, smiling at my mother. “Mrs. Lancaster, hello.”
“Darling, call me Louisa. Please.”
I turn to find my mother is beaming at us—at Perry—clutching her hands in front of her chest, seemingly lovesick over his attention.
I follow after him as he heads toward her, withholding the urge to roll my eyes. She’s turned into his number one fangirl already. So annoying.
But then again, she’s the support I need as well, so I should tolerate her behavior.
“I was just telling Charlotte I finally got her ring back from the jeweler since I had to get it cleaned,” he says, the lie falling surprisingly easily from his perfect lips.
Wariness fills me. Typical. I wonder how often he lies. And to who.
“Oh. Of course. Since it’s a Constantine family heirloom,” Mother says, going along with his story. “We have plenty of those in the Lancaster vault.”
Hmm. These two are good.
Too good.
Perry reaches into the right front pocket of his trousers and pulls out a small black velvet box. My startled gaze meets his and he sends me a shrewd look, one that says, you thought I was lying, didn’t you?
Yes. I figured he was. I assumed he’d make up an excuse about the ring still being cleaned.
Instead, he’s clutching a ring box, his gaze sincere as he studies me. It could appear romantic if you didn’t know the truth. Handsome man in the middle of Central Park, a gentle September breeze blowing through his golden locks as he watches me with affection in his gaze.
More like amusement. This entire situation seems like one big game to him, while my entire world is crumbling.
Why does he act like this? Does he have nothing better to do?
You want me to marry someone, Mother? Will do!
I can literally imagine him saying exactly that. Maybe even saluting his mother since he’s such a good little soldier.
He’s probably a mama’s boy. Maybe he’s a people pleaser in general. Though that seems to go against the Constantine way, from what I’ve seen in my research on the family.
I don’t understand him.
“For you,” he says, his voice low and sexy, that earnest gaze locked with mine, and for the briefest moment, I fall under his spell.
I’m breathless when he slowly pops open the box, a giant diamond nestled inside. He tugs the ring out, the sun glinting off the stone and nearly blinding me as he reaches for my hand and slips the ring on my finger.
It’s far too loose, the heavy diamond falling downward to rest against the back of my finger, and I snag my hand from his, clutching my fingers together so the ring doesn’t fall off.
“It’s too big,” he says, stating the obvious.
Reality comes crashing down around me, reminding me that yes, this is all a farce and it would do me some good to keep my wits about me and not get caught up in the phoniness of it all.
“We can get it resized,” I tell him, clutching my hand tight. “It’s beautiful.”
“You didn’t even look at it.” He actually sounds offended.
Glancing down, I twist the band so the perfectly cut round diamond sits atop my finger, studying it. It is truly stunning. As large as my knuckle and with enough sparkle to blind everyone in this park. “It really is beautiful,” I say again, keeping my gaze on my hand. “Who did it belong to before? Someone in your family?”
“No one else. It belongs to you.” I lift my head to catch the devilish smile on his face. “I went to a jeweler and asked for the oldest-looking new ring they had so it would look like an antique. That was my brother’s idea.”
I try to fight the disappointment that wants to take over me, but he notices.
Of course he does. He’s far more observant than I care for him to be.
His brother chose the ring, not him. And it’s not an antique, a ring that’s been in the family for generations. What did I expect? What am I romanticizing this moment when it’s nothing but a business transaction?
“What?” he asks when I still haven’t said anything. “You don’t like it?”
“It’s not that I don’t like it. I would actually prefer something old,” I admit truthfully, like a fool. I need to just play along, not protest. “I like antiques. Particularly jewelry.”
“What? Really? I thought every future bride wants a new diamond on her finger so she can show it off,” he says, looking confused.
“I…don’t have anyone to show it off to,” I confess with a shrug. I duck my head, feeling stupid.
I should’ve never said that to him. Showing any bit of vulnerability to Perry is a mistake. One that could cost me. As in, I’m giving him something he can use against me later.
The friendless, hopeless Lancaster. His future bride. The woman who’s had everything taken away from her. I tried to be my own person, and I failed miserably. I can’t be on my own. My father has told me that time and again.