Chapter 18: : Chapter 18

The ring box mocks me from the end of my bed. I sit cross-legged in front of it. I haven’t dared open it yet because that just feels like it will be the nail in the coffin. Even though I agreed to marry him, sitting here alone in my apartment makes it all feel surreal. How stupid am I? Why did I even think for a second I could compete with men who have been playing mind games all their lives?

“Jewel.” A knock comes at my door, and I’m tempted not to respond to Jenny. I sigh, perhaps grateful for the interruption of my spiraling thoughts.

“Come in.”

Jenny’s head pops around the door. I haven’t spoken to her since Eli first walked in as if he owned the place yesterday. I have my head in my hand, most likely with a visible thundercloud looming above me. Her gaze falls to the ring box, which I’ve been staring at for a good hour, and her mouth falls agape.

“I didn’t know you were in a relationship.”

“Neither did I,” I mumble under my breath.

“He seems nice. A little bit of a handful for you, though. I didn’t think someone like him would be your type.”

“And what do you mean by that?” I do very little to mask the snideness in my tone.

“Just… you know. He looks like someone who has a lot of money and fancy things. You… don’t. That’s all.”

I laugh. “Just to make things clear, I’m out of his league, Jenny.” The only way the asshole has half a shot with me is by blackmailing me.

“Oh yeah, totally.” Her tone says I’m delusional. “Anyway, flowers were delivered for you.” She pushes the door all the way open, and she’s holding a bunch of beautiful, vivid yellow sunflowers. I grind my teeth as she comes in and hands them to me. They were my favorite flower as of thirty seconds ago. “So, it’s serious, then?” I take them as she nods to the ring box.

“What?”

“Your relationship. Do you plan to move out? Because if you do, I need to know.”

“Thanks for the flowers, Jenny,” I say, my throat constricting. The ring feels like a bad omen. This fucking ring is a noose around my neck. Whether it’s Eli, the neighbor next door, or fucking Santa Claus, I don’t want to be owned by anyone, even if it’s fake.

Jenny makes the smart decision to leave, and the door clicks behind her. I open the card.

Wear the ring.

In the coming days, we will announce our engagement.

Congratulations on landing the most eligible bachelor in New York.

Sincerely,

Your soon-to-be husband.

I crinkle the note, and within seconds, I’m growling and screaming as I tear it up into tiny pieces. Which is frustratingly hard, considering how thick the fucking paper is. My fraying nerves snap, and I throw the flowers and ring across the room.

This guy thinks he has a fucking collar around me. And even if he might have the means to kill me, I refuse to be told what to do or to be treated submissively. Maybe it’s the serious aversion I have to commitment, but I can’t even fake it at this point.

He’s stepping into my space, and no matter how much distance I try to put between us, he’s caging me more and more.

I bite the edge of my nail, thinking.

I need out of this room. Right now.

Looking down at my phone, I read the message from my client from two weeks ago. No updates. No further instructions. Nothing.

My phone pings with a new message, and it’s like the ray of sunshine to push away these dark clouds. I never saved Sage’s number on my phone but she tries to text me from time to time. This one, for once, grabs my attention.

Agreeing to join her might be reckless. But that’s my middle name.

As luck would have it, it’s just the reminder I need that I’m not someone’s property and I can still do my own thing.

I know she’s desperate if she’s messaging me as a last resort. But the timing couldn’t be any better. So I reply.