Page 27 of Beauty and the Daddy

I try it on.

The fit is perfect. Like the universe tipped its hat at Luca's arrogance.

It looks ridiculous on my hand—far too big for fingers this thin. My stomach flips. My heart forgets how often it beats per second.

My brain short-circuits, trying to make sense of this. An engagement ring? From Luca? After one night together?

This is insane. I'm being punk'd. Where are the cameras? Where's Ashton Kutcher hiding? Because this can't be real.

I take off the ring, snap the box closed and set it down like it's radioactive. My hands are shaking.

Suddenly, the room feels too small, the air too thick. I need answers, and I need them now.

I don't even bother putting on clothes. My wet hair drips down my back as I storm out of the room, the ring box clutched in my fist like evidence for all the ways I've been wronged.

I storm through his house like an avenging angel in a towel, leaving wet footprints and dignity behind.

Two guards try to stop me. I hold up the ring box like a weapon.

"Move, or I'll tell him you kept me from him."

They move.

I burst into his office without knocking.

Luca stands by a floor-to-ceiling window, looking like a GQ cover model in a fresh suit, barking orders into the phone.

He turns as I enter, his eyes landing first on my face, then on the box in my hand.

He says something into the phone—"I'll call you back"—and hangs up.

"What the hell is this?" I demand, holding up the box.

His shirt is black. His knuckles are bandaged now, neat white strips that make the memory of the gym floor flash bright and copper in my head.

He watches me watch him. His gaze drops to my hand and notices my fingers unadorned.

"Too big?" he asks, voice low enough my bones feel it.

"Too… what?" My heart races. "I think you left it on the wrong bed."

He glances down at the towel I'm cinched in and that… doesn't help my argument.

I feel the heat rush down my neck, my back, turning me flush.

My entire body buzzes like a garden of bees, and now I wish I'd put on some damn clothes.

Luca starts walking toward me. For every step he takes forward, I take one back, until I realize he's herding me back to a corner against the door.

"Luca, answer me. What is this?" I ask again in a whisper of a voice.

We reach a corner, and I keep backing up until my legs hit the couch.

He closes the door to his office behind him, and suddenly the space feels microscopic with him in it.

"It's an engagement ring," he says finally, like he's explaining something simple to a child.

So, I wasn't wrong. I didn't just let my imagination run too wild.