CONTRACT MARRIAGE

CHAPTER SIX— THE WEIGHT OF THE RING

The next morning, Fifth Avenue was a blur of steel and glass. Julian led me into Blackwood & Co.—his family’s flagship jewelry boutique—with the same cold efficiency he used to navigate a boardroom.

The staff didn't just greet him; they bowed.

"Mr. Blackwood," the manager said, his voice trembling with a mix of awe and terror. "We have the private vault prepared as requested."

We were led into a room lined with dark velvet and bulletproof glass. On a silk-covered table sat a tray of rings that could have funded a small nation. Diamonds the size of almonds caught the recessed lighting, casting rainbows against the walls.

"Pick one," Julian said, checking his watch. He hadn't looked at me since we left the penthouse. He was back to being the CEO, and I was back to being a task on his to-do list.

"I don't care about the size, Julian," I said, my voice tight. "Just pick something that looks believable."

"Believable for a Blackwood means a minimum of ten carats, Elena. Anything less, and the press will think I’m filing for bankruptcy." He reached out, his long fingers hovering over a massive pear-shaped diamond. "This one."

He took my hand. His touch was clinical, yet the warmth of his palm sent a traitorous spark through my skin. He slid the ring onto my finger. It was heavy—a physical weight that felt like a shackle.

"It’s beautiful," a voice purred from the doorway.

I didn't have to turn around to know who it was. The scent of expensive jasmine and malice preceded her. Genevieve stood there, dressed in a white power suit that made her look like a predatory angel.

"Genevieve," Julian said, his voice dropping an octave. "You’re following us now?"

"Following? Heavens, no. I have a standing appointment for my watch service," she lied smoothly, stepping into the vault. She grabbed my hand, lifting it to inspect the ring. "A bit gaudy, don't you think? It looks like a bribe, not a token of affection."

She looked me in the eye, her smile sharpening. "But then again, maybe that’s exactly what it is. Tell me, Elena, does the ring come with a non-disclosure agreement, or is that a separate document?"

The air in the room vanished. The manager and the clerks suddenly found the floor very interesting.

Julian stepped between us, his shadow engulfing Genevieve. "If you have something to say, Genevieve, say it. Otherwise, get out of my store."

"Oh, I’ll say it," she whispered, leaning in so close I could see the flecks of gold in her eyes. "I saw you last night, Julian. I saw the way you looked at her when you thought no one was watching. You don't love her. You’re using her to get your grandfather’s chair. And once you have it, you’ll toss her aside like yesterday’s news."

She turned to me, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. "He’s a Blackwood, darling. They don't have hearts. They have ledgers. Check the fine print before you get too comfortable in that bed."

With a final, sharp laugh, she turned and swept out of the boutique.

The silence she left behind was heavy. I looked down at the ten-carat diamond on my finger. Suddenly, it didn't feel like a luxury. It felt like a target.

"Ignore her," Julian said, his voice harsh. He signaled the manager to finalize the paperwork.

"Is she right?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

Julian stopped. He looked at me, his blue eyes unreadable, his face a mask of stone. "She’s right about one thing, Elena. This is a business arrangement. Don't go looking for a heart where there isn't one."

He walked toward the exit, leaving me standing in the vault with a ring that was worth millions and a heart that felt like it was worth nothing at all.