said. “So you’ll know you didn’t buy a fake or something.”
She nodded. “Exactly.”
The salesman returned with an envelope of paperwork, a velvet box for the ring, and the credit card receipt for her to sign. Bianca took the pen he offered, signed the receipt, and slipped her copy into her wallet.
“Do you want to put it in the box, madam?” the salesman asked.
“No,” Bianca replied, smiling. “I’m wearing this zonker out of the store. I’ll put the box in my pocketbook.”
Frans led her to the door and back out onto the street. The limousine, which hadn’t been able to idle at the curbside while they were in the shop, pulled over almost immediately. Azad started to jump out to open the door, but Frans waved him away. “Got it,” he said, opening the door for Bianca. They slid onto the luxurious black leather, and Frans put an arm around her shoulders. “The ring looks beautiful on you,” he said as the chauffeur pulled out into the traffic of Fifth Avenue.
“I’m glad you like it.”
“It’s nice,” he said, “but you know you don’t really need things like that to make you beautiful.”
“But I need it for something else,” she said, studying his face. It was adoring, his face. That was the best way to describe it, she thought. And it had been since they’d first met.
“Need it for something else?” He gazed at her quizzically. “What?”
“If I want to get married, then I need an engagement ring, don’t I?”
“Get married!” he replied. “But—but . . . I mean . . .” His shoulders slumped, and his features turned glum.
“What?” she teased. She loved seeing his disappointment at her news.
He removed his arm from around her shoulder and stared into his lap. “I thought . . . I mean . . . I thought we had something, you know, going . . . and, well . . .” He gazed up at her with hurt eyes. “I can’t believe you’re suddenly springing something like this on me, Bianca.”
Her heart melted, and she couldn’t carry on her pretense any longer. “Oh, Frans,” she said, “what I meant was that I want to marry you . If you’ll have me. That’s why I got the ring.”
His blue eyes widened in astonishment. Then he smiled. “Are you serious?” he said in a whisper.
She nodded. “I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life.”
Frans threw his arms around her and let out a shout of glee. “I can’t believe it! You want to marry me. Frans. A nobody from nowhere.”
“Whoa,” Bianca said with a gasp. “You’re about to smother me, sweetheart.”
He relinquished his powerful hold of her and began dispensing kisses all over her face. Her eyes and forehead, her cheeks and nose, her chin. “I can’t believe it,” he said, then threw an arm into the air. “I want to tell the whole world. Bianca Coveri is really in love with me! Bianca Coveri wants to marry me!”
He took her into his arms again, more gently this time, and kissed her long and passionately. When he finally withdrew, he gazed into her eyes. “This is the happiest day of my life,” he said. “When can we do it? Now?”
“Hold on, sexy,” she said laughingly. “This is New York, so we have to get a marriage license first. We can’t do that today because it’s too late. Then, don’t forget, we’re flying down to St. Barth’s later for that birthday party.”
The light in his eyes momentarily dimmed. “I forgot,” he said. “Why don’t we skip the party, Bianca?”
“I can’t do that, sweetie,” she said. “It’s for my boss, after all. Your boss, too, in a way, since you’re modeling for a PPHL spread right now.”
“Then when?”
“As soon as we get back,” she said.
Frans was mollified by her response. “Promise?”
“I promise,” Bianca said.
He kissed her again. “I can hardly wait.”
“I know,” she said, “but we have to.” She glanced at him thoughtfully, then said, “In the meantime, let’s keep this a secret. Our secret.”
He
She nodded. “Exactly.”
The salesman returned with an envelope of paperwork, a velvet box for the ring, and the credit card receipt for her to sign. Bianca took the pen he offered, signed the receipt, and slipped her copy into her wallet.
“Do you want to put it in the box, madam?” the salesman asked.
“No,” Bianca replied, smiling. “I’m wearing this zonker out of the store. I’ll put the box in my pocketbook.”
Frans led her to the door and back out onto the street. The limousine, which hadn’t been able to idle at the curbside while they were in the shop, pulled over almost immediately. Azad started to jump out to open the door, but Frans waved him away. “Got it,” he said, opening the door for Bianca. They slid onto the luxurious black leather, and Frans put an arm around her shoulders. “The ring looks beautiful on you,” he said as the chauffeur pulled out into the traffic of Fifth Avenue.
“I’m glad you like it.”
“It’s nice,” he said, “but you know you don’t really need things like that to make you beautiful.”
“But I need it for something else,” she said, studying his face. It was adoring, his face. That was the best way to describe it, she thought. And it had been since they’d first met.
“Need it for something else?” He gazed at her quizzically. “What?”
“If I want to get married, then I need an engagement ring, don’t I?”
“Get married!” he replied. “But—but . . . I mean . . .” His shoulders slumped, and his features turned glum.
“What?” she teased. She loved seeing his disappointment at her news.
He removed his arm from around her shoulder and stared into his lap. “I thought . . . I mean . . . I thought we had something, you know, going . . . and, well . . .” He gazed up at her with hurt eyes. “I can’t believe you’re suddenly springing something like this on me, Bianca.”
Her heart melted, and she couldn’t carry on her pretense any longer. “Oh, Frans,” she said, “what I meant was that I want to marry you . If you’ll have me. That’s why I got the ring.”
His blue eyes widened in astonishment. Then he smiled. “Are you serious?” he said in a whisper.
She nodded. “I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life.”
Frans threw his arms around her and let out a shout of glee. “I can’t believe it! You want to marry me. Frans. A nobody from nowhere.”
“Whoa,” Bianca said with a gasp. “You’re about to smother me, sweetheart.”
He relinquished his powerful hold of her and began dispensing kisses all over her face. Her eyes and forehead, her cheeks and nose, her chin. “I can’t believe it,” he said, then threw an arm into the air. “I want to tell the whole world. Bianca Coveri is really in love with me! Bianca Coveri wants to marry me!”
He took her into his arms again, more gently this time, and kissed her long and passionately. When he finally withdrew, he gazed into her eyes. “This is the happiest day of my life,” he said. “When can we do it? Now?”
“Hold on, sexy,” she said laughingly. “This is New York, so we have to get a marriage license first. We can’t do that today because it’s too late. Then, don’t forget, we’re flying down to St. Barth’s later for that birthday party.”
The light in his eyes momentarily dimmed. “I forgot,” he said. “Why don’t we skip the party, Bianca?”
“I can’t do that, sweetie,” she said. “It’s for my boss, after all. Your boss, too, in a way, since you’re modeling for a PPHL spread right now.”
“Then when?”
“As soon as we get back,” she said.
Frans was mollified by her response. “Promise?”
“I promise,” Bianca said.
He kissed her again. “I can hardly wait.”
“I know,” she said, “but we have to.” She glanced at him thoughtfully, then said, “In the meantime, let’s keep this a secret. Our secret.”
He
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