The sun hadn't fully cleared when I woke up from sleep.
I went downstairs looking for something to eat, having gone to bed on an empty stomach. I rummaged through the fridge searching for a simple meal to make. I finally settled on making an omelette.
I was just sliding a perfectly folded omelette onto a plate when the sound of footsteps approached.
I turned, expecting to see Darius in one of his usual suits, ready to bark orders. Instead, he was wearing nothing but a pair of grey joggers that hung low on his hips.
His hair which was usually slicked back into perfection, was messy and falling over his forehead.
'The man had well-defined abs.'
I forced myself to look back at my plate, but the image stayed burned in my head.
It wasn't lust, I mean I wasn't dead and he was objectively a specimen, it was more of a realization. I finally understood why the long line of models and socialites didn't mind being handled by him.
He was a work of art, and he had this raw, effortless magnetism that made you forget, just for a second, that he was a cold-blooded shark.
He walked past me, opened the fridge, and spoke like I was already part of his morning routine.
"I didn't think you knew how to use a stove."
"Most people do, Mr. Crowne. It's a basic survival skill."
"Hmm," he said, walking toward the espresso machine, not seeming bothered by his lack of clothing or the way I was pointedly staring at the toaster.
I hesitated, then reached for two more eggs. I didn't want to be the only one eating in the middle of his kitchen; it would be awkward.
I plated a second portion, garnished it with the last of the chives I'd found, and set it on the counter near him.
"I made enough for two," I said, sliding the plate toward him.
"I don't eat breakfast."
"It's just an omelette. You said you're rarely home, so you might as well have a hot meal for once."
"I don't like people cooking for me unless I've hired them to do so. It creates an unnecessary sense of domesticity." He pushed the plate back towards me. "Eat it or throw it away. I'm not interested."
I felt a prickle of embarrassment...Okay, it was more than a prickle, I was hugely embarrassed.
'I was just being kind.'
"We're leaving in forty minutes," he said, turning away with his coffee. "You're riding with me."
"No."
He looked at me like he was trying to understand why that was even a discussion. "Why?"
"Because that's what actual couples do and it feels weird. I'll just take the train."
Darius took a slow sip of his coffee. "The train is a security risk. If you don't want to be seen with me, I'll have a separate driver assigned to you tomorrow. He'll use the black SUV. It's discreet."
I had seen the car outside. "Discreet? It looks like a federal escort."
"It's non-negotiable, Miss Onyx. Pick one."
I sighed. "Fine. The driver."
The errand turned out to be a detour into the heart of the jewelry district. We didn't go to a storefront; we went through a side entrance of a building that required a biometric scan.
It took me a second to process it properly. Then I turned to him.
"Why are we here?"
"To choose rings."
The room inside was private, draped in velvet, with a small man named Luco waiting behind a glass case.
"Benvenuto da Ever After Rings, Signor Crowne."
(Welcome to Ever After Rings, Mr. Crowne.)
"Show us what you have."
Luco placed a tray on the counter. There were three rings featuring diamonds so large they looked like they'd be heavy enough to cause a wrist injury.
"This one is a ten-carat, flawless emerald cut," Luco explained. "Retails at three-point-two million."
"Three million?" I blurted out, my head spinning. "For a ring? Mr. Crowne, this is ridiculous. We aren't trying to fund a small country."
Mr. Luco looked at me, then at Darius, his eyes wide with confusion.
"Just wear it," Darius said. "And since I haven't asked for a discount, I suggest you stop looking at my wife like she's lost her mind and start processing the paperwork."
'My wife'
It felt wrong in his mouth, I had always thought i would be married to Paul, but it's all good. Plans change.
The jeweler paled, nodding frantically.
"Of course, sir. My apologies."
I pointed to a much smaller, thinner band in the corner. "I want that one. It's simpler and more me."
Darius stepped behind me, his hands settling firmly on my waist, making my heart hammer. He leaned down, his breath hot against my ear.
"Anything less than five carats is below my name, Miss Onyx. You're a Crowne now. You'll wear jewelry that reflects my net worth, not your flimsy modesty. We're taking the emerald cut."
He let go and slid his black card across the glass. "Resize it. I'll have a courier pick it up later.".
–+–
We went back to Crowne Tower, and the rest of the day was a blur of spreadsheets. I was heading towards the elevator at the end of the day when my phone buzzed.
[Unknown number: I'm in the car. The driver is waiting in the usual spot. Don't be late.]
I exhaled, shifting my bag on my shoulder. I was halfway across the lobby when a voice stopped me dead.
"Brielle? Oh my god, Brielle! Is that really you?"
I froze. I knew that voice, high-pitched, melodic, and currently dripping with faux-sweetness.
I turned slowly, praying to Zeus that I was wrong and sure enough, standing by the reception desk was Chloe.
"Chloe."
"I can't believe it!" she chirped, rushing over. "What are you doing here? Are you still searching for a job? I heard things were... difficult for you lately."
She scanned my outfit.
"I'm just stopping by to have a quick coffee with the marketing head, we're practically best friends. But look at you! You're still wearing that same old blazer. Are you here for an interview? Because I could totally put in a word for you if you're desperate."
All in one breath.