We try the finger sandwiches, some fruit, and spend an hour simply enjoying each other’s company.
“This place is just so beautiful.” I look over at the wall with an enormous clock on it. The wall itself looks as if it’s made of gray and Tiffany-blue granite. “And the food was great.”
I yawn and cover my mouth with my napkin.
“Am I boring you?” he asks.
“No. Definitely, not.” I laugh and run my fingers through my hair. “I think all the walking and shopping is finally catching up with me. Maybe it’s time to head back and catch a nap.”
“We have one more stop to make first.”
I tilt my head. “Where?”
“It isn’t far.”
He pays the check and then pulls me through the restaurant and back into the elevator, but rather than leave the store, he leads me to a waiting salesperson.
“Hello, sir,” the man says with a slight bow. “I’m Dennis. I’ll be happy to work with you today.”
I frown at Carmine. “Looking for another watch?”
“Earrings,” he says as Dennis starts to pull velvet boxes out of the glass cases and sets them on the counter. “You weren’t wearing any earrings when we went to the theater last night.”
I stare up at him. “Seriously?”
He quirks a brow. “I’m quite sure Dennis would be rather upset if I were kidding.” He turns to the other man. “Did you see the necklace?”
“My necklace?”
Dennis nods. “I received your text with the photo. It’s a stunning piece, and I’m sure we have earrings here that will match it nicely.”
“You want me to pick out earrings to match my necklace?”
I stare at him, blinking slowly, dumbfounded.
“That’s why we’re here,” he says.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Give us a moment,” he says, and Dennis discretely walks away so we can talk in private.
“Carmine, you don’t have to buy me gifts.”
“I don’t have to do much of anything,” he says. “I want to do this for you. They’ll look beautiful.”
“You gave me a lot of gifts when we were fake-dating.” I chew my lower lip.
“We’re not fake anything now,” he says smoothly and reaches out to brush his thumb across the apple of my cheek. “I enjoy you, Nadia. More than I anticipated. And I’d like to buy you something beautiful to remember our time in New York. No strings attached.”
What if I’m starting to wish for strings?
My heart flutters. What the fuck is wrong with me?
Carmine signals for Dennis to rejoin us, and I turn to the several velvet trays with a sigh.
I know as soon as my eyes land on them.
They’re understated, which works well because the necklace is anything but. These earrings won’t overshadow the diamonds around my neck but will add just a bit of sparkle to my ears.
“These.”
Dennis offers them to me, along with a mirror, and I fasten them onto my lobes, then tilt my head side to side, admiring them.
“Would you like to look at the chandeliers?” Dennis asks, pointing to a gorgeous pair of diamond earrings that probably cost about the same as a small suburban home.
“No, thanks.” I turn to Carmine. His lips are tipped up in a small smile. “These will go perfectly.”
“I think you’re right.”
He reaches out and touches my ear with his finger. “Discreet, but beautiful.”
“And the necklace is still the centerpiece.”
“No.” He steps into me and lowers his lips to my ear. “You’re the centerpiece, sweetheart. The jewelry is just frosting.”
He turns back to Dennis.
“We’ll take them.”
“Excellent, sir.”
Dennis is all smiles as he sees to the bill, and I can’t stop hearing the last words from Carmine in my head.
The rest is just frosting.
Has anyone taken the time to see me for me? To see past the designer clothes and accessories to the woman beneath? I feel like I’ve been constantly trying to prove to my father, my brother, and everyone in our family that I’m smart enough and damn savvy enough to take over the organization one day.
But they always dismiss me.
Not Carmine. He respects my opinions and listens to me when I talk. He acknowledges that I enjoy pretty things but also knows that it’s just the surface.
That what’s beneath is so much more.
“Ready?” he asks with a smile.
“Yes.” I look in the mirror once more, happy to wear the earrings out of the store. “You know, I hope you realize that when I give you shit for being a diva, I don’t really mean it.”
He glances at me as we walk through the store. “You’ve never called me a diva.”
“Not in those words, exactly.”
“Does it truly bother you that I like the finer things? Does it emasculate me in your eyes?”
“No.” Visions of Carmine and I in bed swim in my head. Of him working out. Of all the ways that he shows, every day, that he’s a man. One I’m incredibly attracted to. “Not at all.”