Page 89 of Cassio

I turned in its direction and Áine stood there, watching me in surprise. I told her we’d have lunch; I guess she didn’t expect me to follow up. She wore a white, sleeveless blouse with light pink neckline, navy skirt that came to her knees and nude heels. She looked sexy and professional. A navy blazer and a large folder were both in her hands along with a laptop.

“Hello, Áine.” I leaned over and pressed a kiss on her cheek.

“What are you doing here?” she questioned, glancing around. Who else was she expecting?

“We are having lunch,” I told her. “Or did my fiancée forget already?”

I noticed her hand free of the engagement ring and something about it irked me. I wanted to brand her so the whole world knew she was mine. After all, I’d waited long enough.

She put her folder that looked to contain drawings and her laptop on the receptionist counter. The latter observed our interaction with interest, probably eager for gossip.

“Of course not.” Áine pasted on a fake smile, and I took the navy blazer from her, then helped her put it on. Plus it allowed me to put my hands on her and get closer to her. “That’s why I’m here,” she added.

I knew without a doubt it was not. Once her blazer was on, she grabbed her stuff, then glanced my way.

“So where to, my dear fiancé?” she asked, her tone full of sarcasm.

I slid my hand to her lower back and urged her forward. Her back slightly stiffened for a faction of a second, but she didn’t pull away. We walked out of the building and fresh, cool air hit us.

Leaning over, I whispered in her ear, “Where is your engagement ring?”

Her eyes darted down to her finger, and then back to me.

“Crap,” she muttered. “I don’t sleep with jewelry and I just… Well, I forgot the ring.”

My lips tugged up into a smile. I believed her. Put a quarter million dollar ring on another woman, she’d claw your eyes out if you attempted to take it.

“Maybe we should tattoo the wedding ring on your finger when we get married.”

She rolled her eyes. “Tattoos are very permanent,” she replied, then glanced at my free hand, studying it. Her step halted and we stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. Her brows drawn tight, she kept staring at my tattoo. “I’d swear it is the same exact tattoo,” she muttered under her breath. I knew she was referring to her dream. Well, a memory that plagued her in her dreams. “I saw it a long time ago,” she whispered, her gaze locked on them. “I swear it is right there and-”

But whatever she was going to say remain unsaid. She shook her head, a quick, small movement like she remembered something she didn’t understand. Was her memory coming back?

“Anyhow, no tattoos for me,” she finally said, her deep ocean pools meeting my eyes.

“Then a ring is a must,” I told her. “I don’t want any misunderstandings by others that you are available.”

“Don’t trust me, huh?” she challenged me.

Instead of answering her, I turned it back to her. “Do you trust me?”

She chose not to answer but held my gaze. I didn’t have to worry about Áine cowering before me, or bending to my will. She was strong to stand her ground.

“This is my car,” I finally told her, nudging her towards my McLaren.

“Where are we having lunch?”

“My favorite place,” I told her, opening the door for her.

“Well, that tells me everything.” Rolling her eyes, she slid into the seat.

It took us five minutes to get there. We spent the drive in silence, and once there, I parked the car in the gated parking area, then headed down the street. The sounds of the cars honking in the distance filled the air.

“I hope you like Italian food.” I glanced over and her lips curved into a soft smile.

“I do.”

We walked into a small corner restaurant, and I watched Áine looking around in surprise. This place wasn’t a luxury restaurant. The walls were decorated with the old, faded paper with images of ancient Italy. There were only ten tables and they were close together.