Chapter 24

The transparent glass doors opened to a jewelry store. "Gabriel, why are we here?" I murmured, following him inside. All the employees stood up as we entered, their eyes on my husband. A man who looked like the manager stepped forward.

"Mr. Whitlock? Welcome back. We weren't expecting you. Is this about the necklace you were interested in?"

I blinked. A necklace? For whom?

"No," Gabriel said stiffly. "Ralph, this is my wife, Sophia. Sophia, this is Ralph, the store manager."

"Mrs. Whitlock, it's a pleasure to meet you," the blond man, who appeared to be in his mid-forties, said, shaking my hand. I offered a polite smile and nod, too surprised to speak.

"How can I help you both today?"

My husband cleared his throat. "We're looking at rings—engagement rings and wedding bands, both."

"What's the budget, Mr. Whitlock?"

A smug smile touched his lips. "When have I ever given you a budget, Ralph?"

"Touché. This way, please." Ralph chuckled lightly, leading us into a smaller room. It had dark wallpaper, a red leather couch, and a marble table for displaying jewelry. While he showed us rings, I tugged at Gabriel's sleeve.

"Why are we here?" I whispered.

"To select a ring you like, of course."

"But why?"

"Because you don't like the one you were made to wear at the wedding, which is why you don't wear it, yes?"

My eyebrows knitted in confusion. My eyes followed his gaze to my bare ring finger; my wedding band was absent.

I cursed under my breath. "Gabriel," I said firmly, "I do wear our wedding band from time to time. I just forgot it at the sink this morning when I took it off before showering."

"Let's just pick a ring you like too much to forget, then, hun?" He gave me a pointed look.

"That's not necessary," I said firmly. "Let's go home."

"We're not going home without a ring, Freckles." His glare remained. "We can't have you forgetting your rings and creeps like Viktor Hart thinking you're free to touch, huh?"

"Not for the next five months, anyway," I muttered.

His eyes darkened.

"You don't wear yours," I added quickly.

"What?"

"Your wedding band. You don't wear it."

"In that case, pick one for me, too. Since I picked my own wedding band last time."

"No. We're going home. I like my wedding rings just fine, Gabriel."

Before he could respond, Ralph returned with an assortment of rings: small ones with single diamonds, large ones with multiple diamonds, various shapes and sizes—some dainty, others extravagant, and some simply tacky.

"This is our first time serving you, Mrs. Whitlock, and we didn't know your preferences. So I've brought out some of my best pieces," he said. I forced my gaze from the rings to my husband, who was silent.

"Gabriel?" I called softly. "Are you going to tell Ralph what we just discussed?"

"No. Because we didn't discuss anything." He offered a fake smile.

I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes. Turning to the store manager, I said, "Actually, Ralph, we're so sorry to have wasted your time, but I've decided I don't need a new ring just yet."

"Don't be like that, Freckles. I only have one wife; let me pamper her." The fake sweetness returned.

"You two are so adorable," Ralph commented, grinning. "I've read about you in articles, but in person, it's even better."

Gabriel offered a tight smile. "You said these are some of your best pieces, yes?"

"They are, sir."

"That's good enough. Pack them all."

My eyes widened. "These are thirty rings, Gabriel!" Had I not been so shocked, I would have shouted.

"One for every day of the month, so you don't forget, hm?" He casually turned back to Ralph. "Bill them to me and send them to my office."

"Y-y-yes, sir," the man stuttered, clearly shocked. "You're a very lucky woman, Mrs. Whitlock. Truly." He bowed slightly.

"Yes, truly," I agreed sarcastically. Glancing back at my husband, I walked toward the men's rings. Well, if he could afford thirty rings, what was one more?

I looked through a dozen rings while Gabriel was at the counter signing and paying with his black card. Finally, I chose a matte gold band. He didn't seem like the type to wear a diamond.

"I was wondering if you could engrave the inside," I asked the saleswoman.

"We usually don't, ma'am, but we can customize it for you. It would take five days to make and two to deliver. Is that acceptable?"

"Sounds perfect," I smiled.

"What would you like engraved?" She handed me a notepad and pen, then left for privacy.

Without hesitation, I wrote what I had in mind. Calling her back, I said, "I'd like this billed separately, not to my husband's account."

"Certainly. To what account?" She asked. I gave her my personal account details—the one holding my pre-marriage savings and my salary from my work in Wales. Between the two, I could cover Gabriel's ring.

"Paying separately for a secret lover, Freckles?" My husband's booming voice startled me. I jumped, pushing the notepad out of his sight, unaware he was so close. My movement pressed my back against his chest; his breath warmed my shoulder blade, causing heat to pool there. All it took was his proximity for my body to react. It was maddening.

I gulped. "What's the point of selecting your husband's wedding band with his money?"

"Turn around, Freckles," he murmured. As soon as I did, he caged me with his hands on either side. His dark eyes held an unfamiliar expression. He stared for a moment, almost making me think he would kiss me. But he didn't. He stepped back. "Ready to go home?"

Disappointment washed over me, but I nodded and followed him out.