Free Keeping His Promise (Year of the Billionaire Part 3) by K.C. Falls Page A

. ."
    "Except what?" I scanned my image in the mirror trying to figure out what I had missed.
    Tristan pulled a velvet box from the inside pocket of his blazer. "I know you're going to object, but you need to be properly 'accessorized' as Kwan would put it. My father has an eye for details. If you hate the jewelry, we can take it back--later."
    "I won't hate the jewelry. I just don't think you should spend so much money on me," I said as I accepted the box. "Besides, from what you've told me, your father's opinion shouldn't matter one way or the other." Of course, I knew that wasn't true at all. I could read a lot more in what Tristan had said--and not said--about his father than he gave me credit for. Cold and indifferent parents are the kind children spend their lives trying to please or impress.
    The bracelet and earrings were set with a gemstone I didn't recognize. They were perfectly matched square cut stones set in rose-colored gold. Each was about the size of my thumbnail. But it was the color that made them so unique. Not orange and not pink, the warm glow of the crystals was somewhere in between. They reminded me of an autumn sunset.
    "I purposely chose something modest. I know how squirrelly you are about expensive gifts."
    "Yes, I'm sure you bought these at Claire's," I said sarcastically.
    "Claire's?"
    "Nevermind, it isn't a place you'll ever set foot in. What are the stones?"
    "Imperial topaz. Unusual, aren't they? I thought the color would suit you."
    "They're beautiful. Thank you."
    "That's it? I don't have to argue with you about it? Just a graceful 'thank you'? My, my, perhaps you're growing up."
    "Keep it up and I won't wear them," I threatened, but with a smile. I held out my hand and he fastened the clasp around my wrist. Then he brought my hand to his lips and brushed a kiss over my fingers.
    "You deserve beautiful things. You wouldn't frame a Van Gogh in plastic, and you should be adorned and clothed like the masterpiece that you are."
    I turned back to the mirror and put the earrings on. He watched me from behind with an expression that was dangerous and devouring. There wa s a possessive side to him and I couldn't decide how I felt about that. On the one hand, I was thrilled that he wanted me. On the other, I resented the way he wanted to control me without giving me anything to . . . hold on to.
    When I turned and met his eyes I felt as if I was falling again. Falling into his depths, getting lost in the tangle of his desire and losing myself in the dense jungle of his damaged soul. I looked at him and knew that it was impossible to be near him without wanting him. At that moment it was enough. It had to be enough.
    We went out to the ancient elevator and I used the long ride to admire how fine he looked. He had chosen a rather understated outfit for our brunch meeting with his father. The bespoke suit he had worn to dinner the night before had been replaced by a blue blazer and a pair of khaki slacks. His crisp white shirt accentuated his tawny skin and gold-brown hair. He glowed with good health and prosperity down to the tips of his perfect fingers. Today he chose not to wear a tie, but he had tucked a red pocket square in the breast pocket of his sport coat. The double-breasted blazer emphasized the broadness of his shoulders, his strong chest and narrow waist. For the thousandth time, I thought him as beautiful a man as had ever been made.
    We drove nearly the entire way to the Pump Room in silence. He was trying hard to appear casual, but I could sense his mood. There was tension in his jaw and his grip on the Bentley's steering wheel was a little too tight.
    "The Pump Room used to be about as old school as the Drake Hotel. A couple of years ago, the hotel that it's attached to was sold and the restaurant was completely overhauled. I'm kind of surprised my father still goes there."
    "He's not fond of change?"
    "That's part of it. But also because it was one of my mother's favorites. They used to