Liam My parents called me a “superfluous child” when I was growing up, and it was
agonizing. But to see Olivia Desmond being disrespected and dismissed by her fiancé is
another level of torture. She deserves better. A helluva lot better. They’re sitting on the
cream-colored Italian leather couch in an exclusive private salon of Kingswood Stones &
Designs. She’s in a calf- length white dress that reminds me of a bridal gown... or maybe the
flowing skirt Giselle wore in that tragic ballet. Her midnight hair is looped into an elegant
chignon, revealing the delicate line of her neck, and her sky-blue eyes are downcast as she
studies the designs spread out on the table before her. Only diamonds adorn her, two studs
in her ears and a single solitaire on her ring finger. The latter is too plain—almost
thoughtless, the kind a man picks up as a performative gesture. He should’ve at least made
the effort to get her a starburst setting, possibly with a round yellow twenty-carat stone in
the center with the smaller stones in a matching shade. Nothing less would be worthy of
her. Her fiancé, Tyler, is barely paying attention to the designs—or her, something I simply
can’t fathom. If she were sitting next to me, I wouldn’t be able to focus on anything but her.
He probably came straight from the office. Clean-shaven, his sandy brown hair slicked back
with a bit too much wax. His pinstripe navy suit is off the rack but altered to fit him
properly. His tie is done in an Eldredge knot, probably to appear dashing. But it’s badly
done, just making him look gauche. He apparently works at some private wealth
management firm. Nothing prestigious like OWM, though—he’s the type who’d brag if he
worked for someone like Gavin Lloyd.
Just what does Olivia see in him? Tyler’s a slightly less greasy and far poorer version of
Gordon Gekko from Wall Street. Okay, he’s younger, but what else does he have going for
him? What’s so special that Olivia chose him out of all the men she could have had,
including me? “So what do you think about this one?” Olivia asks, pointing at one of the five
design sketches for their wedding jewelry. His eyes barely move from his phone. “Yeah, I
guess that’s fine.” Her gaze flickers with resignation and hurt at his dismissive tone. The
corners of her mouth droop, like wilted flowers. Bastard. What’s so important when she’s
asking him a question? Whatever he’s looking at can’t be about work—not with that little
smirk on his face. I surr eptitiously push the tray of Belgian truffles toward her, hoping a
chocolate will soothe her. Every time she had a complicated problem at Stanford, she’d
frown and pop a piece of chocolate into her mouth. And soon the tension in her forehead
would ease, and she’d smile. “I think that ruby in the center looks too small.” Olivia taps the
stone on the draft. “It’s going to look like an error rather than something done on purpose,
especially with so many diamonds around it.” Tyler’s eyes are still glued to the screen.
“Uh-huh.” My hands curl and uncurl. I itch to snatch his phone and throw it across the
room. Exc ept that would be considered rude and uncalled for, especially when Olivia isn’t
objecting to his behavior. But Kingswood Stones & Designs is my domain, damn it. And
Olivia is— The door to the salon bursts open, and a bottle-blonde with slightly dark roots
barges in. “Hey, everyone!” My assistant rushes in, pursuing the blonde. “I’m sorry! She
just ran right past me—” “It’s fine! I’m family!” The unforgettably annoying voice belongs to
Brielle, Olivia’s half-sister. She’s in a tight crop top and a leather skirt with a side slit all the
way to her upper thigh. She has very few manners and even less class. The kind of woman
my grandmother looks down on. If it weren’t for the Hermès bag in her hand, she’d look like
a streetwalker who stumbled into the wrong store. I signal my flustered assistant to back
off, and then make a shooing motion. She reluctantly retreats, shutting the door behind her
with a glare.
“Brielle, what are you doing here?” Olivia asks. Her tone is guarded but holds just enough
politeness to stop me from evicting the interloper myself. Brielle struts across the floor, her
eyes on Olivia’s. A small smirk, still the same as all those years ago, curls her lips. “Hey, sis,
you forgot your favorite lipstick.” She hands Olivia a silver tube. Olivia takes it and glances
at the bottom. “I don’t wear red.” “Well, maybe you should.” Brielle smiles, showing off her
own bright red lips. “Men love red.” Not this man. She perches next to Tyler and places her
crimson-nailed hand on his shoulder. “What do you think, Tyler? Don’t you think red looks
great?” “D epends.” His eyes crinkle. “But that shade is stunning.” D epends. He sounds like
an adult diaper commercial. But then he has shitty taste, so I guess that makes sense. Plus,
his eyes are the color of fresh dog poo—brown, dull, and disgusting. Just what does Olivia
see in him? Brielle grins. “That’s why I put on this particular shade! I knew you’d like it.”
The light in Olivia’s eyes dims and a needle pierces my heart. She was never an overly
friendly person, even back in college, but she always held herself with dignity—her back
straight and eyes bright and clear. But here she’s being overshadowed, made to feel small
at her own wedding jewelry selection, and a de ep loathing for Tyler and Brielle simmers in
my gut. Olivia shouldn’t feel like an extra. She’s the star. “Tyler,” Olivia says tightly. “Can
you please take a look at these designs? We need to make a decision soon.” She finally turns
to look at me. “We have to decide pretty quickly, right? You’ll need some time to make
everything.” “Yes, at least four weeks.” I try to sound neutral because she’s a client. I don’t
need Tyler’s business, but sending them elsewhere would result in the same kind of
humiliation for her. I’d rather ke ep her close, so I can be a buffer if possible. “It’s best we
use our time productively,” I add pointedly for Tyler’s benefit. “So we can accommodate
Olivia’s preferences.” Tyler nods vacantly, completely distracted. But then Brielle’s hand is
on his knee now. She’s gliding it up and down, each glide taking her fingers closer to his
crotch. Although her face is tilted toward Tyler, her eyes are on
Olivia. A dare blazes in her moss-green gaze. So what you gonna do about it? What the hell
is wrong with this girl? And what the hell is wrong with him? He has the best woman in the
world, and he’s letting that trash touch him? I open my mouth, but Olivia’s wooden voice
cuts in. “Well... I guess if you want me to make the decisions on everything—” “Exactly, we
aren’t really needed here,” Brielle interjects, and turns to the worthless man. “Hey, Tyler,
I’m starving. I totally spaced out and forgot to grab lunch. Could you buy me something to
eat? I forgot my credit card.” “Can’t have you going hungry,” he says, his fingers brushing
against Brielle’s ass as they stand. My hands clenched into fists, I glance at Olivia. She
merely watches them, her face pale now. Her eyes cloud—with pain and defeat. Having
grown up with parents like mine, I’m familiar with the feeling, and I hate it that she is, too.
“Sure,” she says finally, sighing. “Why don’t you buy her something to eat?” Brielle beams.
“Let’s go! Olivia says it’s fine. I’m sure she’ll choose good stuff. It’s not like we have to be
here.” “Okay,” Tyler says, his hand on her back. If Olivia weren’t here, he’d take Brielle’s
hand. “Thanks, love.” He carelessly flings the words over a shoulder at Olivia as if she’s his
servant. They leave. Silence descends in the salon. The air clears. But my heart continues to
beat uncomfortably, as though it can’t find its footing. Olivia shifts, and her beautiful eyes
collide with mine. The churning in my mind stills. When she locks me in like this, I feel like
the only person in the world who matters. “Are they always...?” I ask finally, unable to stop
myself. “Yes.” She blinks away unshed tears. I start to reach out, then stop. She’s engaged.
Even if her fiancé is a piece of shit, unless she’s willing to leave him, there isn’t much I can
do exc ept treat her with the respect and kindness she deserves. But raw fury claws at me,
and my voice grows sharp. “If they’re like this in front of you, they’re worse behind your
back.” She closes her eyes briefly. “Maybe. But I love him.”
I clench my teeth to hold back a sharp exhale. Jealousy and injustice burn in my veins like
acid, and it’s all I can do to maintain a smile. How can a woman as beautiful and brilliant as
her be so blind as to fall for somebody like Tyler—especially when I would’ve laid the world
at her feet? It’s as though the universe is punishing me for not having made a move sooner,
but I was determined to become someone worthy when I graduated college. I study her
face. I’ve been unable to forget her since the moment I saw her on the first day of freshman
calculus. Something like surprise and appreciation flickered across her expression, as
though she found me fascinating. The moment salved the old wound inside me, and I stood
a little taller, unable to look away as my heart rate picked up. I didn’t want to
blink—breaking contact for even a millisecond felt like too big of a risk to take. She glances
at the door. Tyler’s shameless behavior with her sister must be more painful than she’s
letting on. But what kind of bride could put up with that? “You can do better, Olivia. I know
you. I’ve seen you,” I say, ke eping my voice steady. “You were always so focused. Broke the
curve.” Her eyes warm a little. “So did you.” A small sigh. “That was a long time ago.”
“Twelve years.” “Yeah. But you remember it.” “I remember everything.” About you and
every class and project we did together. “I remember a lot about you, too,” she says quietly,
but doesn’t elaborate, much to my disappointment. It’d be nice to have some confirmation
that she liked me back then—and that she realizes how insufferable Tyler is after seeing me
again. “Can we discuss the designs? Since Tyler isn’t... willing, I guess it’s up to me. Why
don’t you sit here? Easier to look things over this way.” She pats the spot where Tyler was.
Trying not to show anything on my face, I lower myself next to her. Why can’t I just r eplace
Tyler in her heart and life? We’re close enough that her body heat se eps into me. The years
have matured her, in a good way. Without Tyler and Brielle’s toxic presence, she seems
calmer and more settled.
“I’m thinking about this one. Very chic,” she says, pointing to a draft that has three stones
in the center of the band. “It suits you,” I say. “Mmm.” She shoots me an unreadable look
under her lashes. “Maybe so, but it needs some modification, if you don’t mind.” “Of course.
We’re here to please.” She laughs softly. “How about we make the center stone bigger?
Let’s say... Five carats?” I purse my lips as the new design takes shape in my head. “It’s
going to look unbalanced.” “You think so?” “Yes. It’s a wedding band, which should be
discreet. Noticeable when you look, but it shouldn’t be an attention grabber.” Her face
glows with satisfaction. “You have good taste, but a big stone is what I want.” Probably
because Brielle ke eps forgetting that Olivia is the bride. Sympathy wells. “You shouldn’t
have to settle for something ugly to make a statement,” I say. “I’m not settling. I’m making
a choice,” she says firmly, then looks at me. Her eyes soften. “I respect your aesthetic
sensibilities, Liam, but can you trust me on this?”