“It’s alright,” I tell him curtly. “I’m to be married again. Which means I’ll need rings.”
“Ah yes! I’d be happy to take your commission. How soon will you need them? Six months? A year?”
“Two weeks.”
His eyes go round. “Two weeks? I don’t know—Mr. Andreyev, a ring of good quality—”
“I’ll pay handsomely, you know that. And besides, it’s nothing complicated. Two gold bands. You may even have them in stock, although my bride-to-be may need hers sized.”
“No engagement ring?” He looks flustered. “Are you sure? A girl without an engagement ring is sure to be disappointed, and besides, it might look—”
“I don’t care how it looks,” I tell him curtly. “I’m not interested in appearances. This is my second marriage, and it will be a practical one. The rings will reflect that. Two gold bands will be sufficient.”
He swallows hard at my tone, nodding. “I’ll be right back, Mr. Andreyev. Just a moment.”
I turn to the cases as Henrik disappears into the back, glancing over the sparkling array of jewelry there. I can feel eyes on me as I look, something I’m not unused to. I know I’m a handsome man and a feared one. Whenever I’m in a room, men and women both turn to look. But I don’t bother looking back. This isn’t an outing for pleasure, and I want to be out of this shop as soon as possible.
Diamonds, diamonds, diamonds. There’s every shape and size displayed in the glass cases, refracting the light, clear and joyless. I’ve never been fond of diamonds, although Vera liked to be draped in them. I never bought her anything else for holidays or anniversaries. When the girls were born, I had Henrik make her an eternity band for each of them, with large, glittering clear stones that encircled her slender finger. I thought that they looked gaudy, on either side of her engagement ring and thin gold wedding band. But she loved them.
I’d chosen a diamond engagement ring for her, of course, drawn up by Henrik and made bespoke just for her. But it’s not those that catch my eye this time, as I wait for him to come back with the simple bands. It’s the gemstone rings, set at the end of the cases, like an afterthought.
Ruby, emerald, and sapphire, and other stones that I don’t know as well. One stands out to me more than others, a large oval-shaped ruby, the rich dark color of freshly-spilled blood. It’s set in yellow gold, held by prongs, with a round diamond on either side. It looks almost like an antique. Between the size and the rich color, I can imagine some Russiantsarinawearing it, a splash of blood on her finger set with diamonds.
I’d already determined that there was no point in purchasing an engagement ring for Caterina. She likely won’t expect one, and while I’m a generous man with those who deserve it, I’m also a frugal one in other respects. I know the privations of others back in the motherland, and I know that money isn’t something to be taken lightly.
My marriage to Vera began as one of love. I have no such illusions with Caterina, and pretending at it with jewels and promises that I don’t intend to keep would be a ridiculous farce, in my opinion.
I’m sure that she, raised in this life as she was, will appreciate my practicality. I’m sure she has no illusions, either.
And I don’t intend to give them to her.
“Mr. Andreyev!” Henrik’s voice cuts through my thoughts, distracting me and pulling me away from the ruby ring. “I have several bands here for you to choose from. You can pick the one that fits you, and then your bride—do you know her ring size?”
“She can have it sized after, if need be, so err on the side of larger. She’s very slender, though.”
“A six, then, for now.” Henrik fishes a very thin, delicate band out of the box. “What about this?”
“That will do.” I pick a medium-width band out for myself, slipping it onto my finger to determine the fit. “There. That’s easy enough, yes? No wait necessary.”
“Certainly.” It’s clear that Henrik is struggling to hide his disappointment. I’m sure that when I walked in, he’d hoped for a more extravagant purchase. But my days of buying expensive jewelry are over.
I head back out to the car with the black velvet boxes in hand, grateful to have that finished and behind me. One less thing to worry about. I’ll make arrangements for Caterina to purchase her dress—that, at least, I’ll spoil her with. I’m not a complete asshole.
But I don’t intend to pretend at romance. This is a matter of convenience—myconvenience. And the sooner the next two weeks pass, the better.
I let out a long breath. In two weeks, Caterina Bianchi,neeRossi, will be my bride. In my home, and in my bed, a mother to my daughters with the bloody past firmly behind us.
Hers, and mine.