Page 18 of Billion Dollar Vow (The Lincoln Brothers #4)

Karley

I’m holding my hand out, inspecting the rose gold engagement ring. My fingers tremble with nervousness, and I wonder if Oliver notices. He doesn’t say anything, so I hope he hasn’t.

Having such a delicate and expensive ring on my hand feels heavy and foreign.

“The rose gold suits you,” Oliver says, his words pulling my gaze away from the sparkling ring and to his face. His eyes are slightly widened, and the hint of a smile plays at the corners of his mouth.

I’m a bit surprised, but I agree. “Yes, I didn’t think I’d like it.”

“Well, let's keep going and try different colors,” Mr. Winston encourages, holding out a platinum ring.

I slip off the rose gold, immediately missing its warmth against my skin, and try the plain platinum band. It feels colder and more clinical. “I think it matches yours better,” I say to Oliver, glancing down at where the ring sat on his hand, before looking back up to meet his gaze.

He shakes his head. “It doesn't have to match mine. I'll match you. I just want you to find a ring you love.”

Warmth spreads in my chest at his unexpected consideration. It’s such a nice gesture… letting me choose, rather than forcing coordination.

“Karley, let’s try on some other options in rose gold, and I’ll figure out how to tie them together,” Mr. Winston offers, glancing at me, then over to Oliver, who nods.

“I really like the rose gold with the Platinum,” I say, my hands steadier as I hand the ring back. Now that I’ve tried two on, I feel more confident exploring different styles. “Do you have any other designs you’d recommend?”

“Tell me about yourself. What do you like? What do you do? It might help me recommend a style,” Mr. Winston says.

How much should I share? Will Mr. Winston look at me differently once he knows I’m not from this world?

“I study art, painting specifically, and I work at a paint studio on the side,” I reply confidently. No need to apologize for who I am.

He smiles. “Do you like colors?”

“Yes.”

“Would you be open to a colored stone?”

“A colored stone?” I repeat, as if I’ve never thought about it before. “That could be interesting,”

Mr. Winston brings out a selection of platinum rings with emeralds, sapphires, and rubies, as well as the same in rose gold. My eyes scan over each, drawn to a few. Even though this is feeling very real, I know I’ll only have this ring for a short time and never wear it again.

Oliver shuffles closer, his shoulder nearly touching mine. I find myself oddly comforted by his nearness.

“Which colors stand out to you?” Mr. Winston asks.

“To be honest, I love them all,” I admit, unable to choose.

Oliver laughs. “As pretty as these rings would look on each finger of yours, let's save them for anniversaries.”

I pause, my smile faltering just slightly. “Anniversaries?” I echo, trying to keep my voice light. “You do remember this isn’t real, right?”

He shrugs, totally unbothered. “Real or not, people are still going to expect the part. Might as well get used to saying things like that.”

I laugh, mostly to ease the knot tightening in my chest. “I didn’t think it’d be this hard.”

“We're not in a rush,” Oliver says, and I appreciate that he’s trying to make this easier for me, even though it contradicts everything about our whirlwind arrangement.

I try on an emerald first, but it doesn't feel quite right. The green stone is beautiful, but too formal and not me. The moment I slide the next one onto my finger, my breath catches. “I like the rose gold with the ruby. It’s pretty,” I say, wiggling my finger around.

“We also have some pink stones, if you’d like,” Mr. Winston offers.

“I don't see myself with pink. It feels too… modern,” I say.

Next, I try sapphire. I slip it on, and my heart swells. I stare at it, feeling a warm rush pulse through me. “I love this.”

“Let me see,” Oliver asks, gently taking my hand and inspecting it.

His touch makes my body temperature rise. “Yeah. I do too. The blue looks good on you,” he adds, and I can hear the softness in his voice.

“This feels like your ring.” Mr. Winston says. “I’ll bring out a few with similar styles, then we can pick a matching band.”

“There’s more?” I gasp. What else could there be?

“Oh yes,” Mr. Winston says. “We’ll narrow it down further, choose a shape, then decide on the wedding band.

And if he’s going with platinum, it’ll match perfectly.

If the rings you choose don’t quite fit, I can give you a placeholder and keep you updated on when the custom one will be ready.

” After trying a few more, I find the one that I love.

A 6.50 carat blue sapphire halo ring set in platinum.

The stone sparkles, and I can’t help but smile at how perfect it looks.

“This is it,” I say, slipping it off and handing it to Mr. Winston, who grins and starts packing it up.

“You’re not going to get something like this for yourself?” I ask, arching an eyebrow at Oliver.

He points to the plain platinum band he liked earlier. “I think I’ll skip the colored stone and let yours stand out.”

I laugh, nudging him playfully. “Oh, so I’m the attention-seeker now?” The thought of people noticing the ring sends a flutter of anxiety through me. I’ll have to get used to explaining this sudden relationship.

“Absolutely.” He smirks.

I snap a photo of the rings and send it to Amber, remembering my phone conversation with her this morning when I told her I was getting fake married to Oliver. As expected, she told me to be careful, but she supports me. Her response was, “If anyone can make this crazy plan work, it’s you.”

Mr. Winston boxes up our rings. “Anything else?”

“What about a pair of earrings?” Oliver asks me with a wry smile.

I shake my head. “No, we’re good. Let’s go to Vegas before I change my mind.”

We arrive on the tarmac outside his jet, and I do a double take.

It’s stark white against the gray concrete, “Lincoln” emblazed in navy-blue lettering on the side.

A uniformed attendant stands at the bottom of the stairs.

I’ve never been on a private plane before, and it feels insane that this is just how he travels, like it’s as ordinary to him as catching the subway.

It makes me wonder what other things money has turned into casual details in his life; things that would feel unimaginable in mine.

“You ready?” he asks, getting out of the car and holding his hand out for me.

I step out of the car, grabbing his outstretched hand. He closes his door, and I start to move around to the back of the car to grab my bag, but he shakes his head. “They'll put it on the plane for us. We can head inside.”

“This is insane,” I mumble, the words hidden by the roar of the engines nearby and the steady wind sweeping across the tarmac.

I follow him up the stairs into the jet and stop mid-stride to take in the plane’s interior. Everything is a creamy white leather with polished black trim, bright and spacious. The air smells faintly of vanilla, making it feel strangely cozy yet undeniably luxurious.

“Where do I sit?” I ask, standing in the middle, looking around at the numerous chairs, expecting he has a particular spot.

“Wherever you want,” he says.

I take a middle seat near the window, assuming he'll sit across the aisle from me. But instead, he chooses the seat directly opposite, and his long legs almost bump into mine. As soon as he sits and buckles in, there's a small gap between us, and I intend to keep it that way.

Taking out my phone, I snap a few pictures and send them to Evelyn before putting it away.

Oliver is typing on his phone too, so I keep my eyes out the window, watching the bags being loaded.

Excitement and nerves churn in my stomach at how much closer we are to getting married.

I’m interrupted by an unfamiliar woman’s voice. “Hi, can I get you anything?”

I glance at the brunette hostess with a warm smile, outlined in bright red.

For a second, I wonder if he’s slept with her, but I push those thoughts away.

He’s been extremely nice and respectful.

I know it seems silly to most, but the thing is that I just can't take any more rejection.

It's easier to just stay behind my protective wall than risk that again, but this time together is new.

I have to find a way to make this work, at least for the sake of his mom.

I've never spent this much alone time with him, and the more time that passes, the more I see how wrong it was of me to assume he belongs in that douchebag category.

During the flight, Oliver alternates between working on his laptop and making casual conversation.

He asks about work, school, and my favorite artists.

I eat sushi and a brownie that I wash down with a soda.

My eyes grow heavy after the huge meal. I drift off with the smooth motion of the jet, exhausted from the day.

I don’t know how long I’m out before I wake from a nightmare…

my mom snapping and then throwing out my pencils.

A touch on my shoulder and a whisper of my name in my ear makes me shudder and blink open my eyes.

I instantly perk up, my heart racing as I look around, remembering where I am, and that this isn’t, in fact, a dream.

“We’re here,” Oliver says. I’m actually getting married today. My fingers tighten around the armrest, knuckles turning white as the moment I get off this plane, I know it’s happening in a matter of hours.

When I don’t move, he speaks again, as if he thinks I didn’t hear him. “Time to get off the plane.”

“Great,” I murmur. “Let’s get married.”

He clears his throat. “No second thoughts, right?”

“No second thoughts, but this is not how I thought I’d get married,” I admit, standing up and stretching my back. The admission feels oddly vulnerable, like I’m revealing more of myself than I intended.

“How did you think you were going to get married?”