Читать книгу Postcards From… Collection - Maisey Yates - Страница 42
ОглавлениеNICOLE LOOKED UP at the man who was offering both to save her and ruin her all at the same time. What kind of woman would she be if she agreed to such a marriage? She knew exactly what kind she would be. One just like her mother.
Except her mother had never chosen her husbands based on the interests of her daughter. It had only ever been about money and magazine spreads. Nicole had simply been another instrument to use in her love affair with the media.
‘If I were to agree to this, I would want your word that Anna will never be a part of your public image. She will never be used for photo ops or anything of the sort.’
‘She will be protected. You have my word on that.’
Nicole nodded, swallowing the ever-growing lump forming in her throat. Her hands were trembling. The enormity of what she was agreeing to threatened to unravel what was left of her composure completely.
‘We can agree on the finer details in good time. For now, am I correct in assuming that you are accepting my proposal?’
Nicole took a deep breath. ‘Yes, I will marry you.’
Triumph gleamed in his eyes and he nodded his head once in approval. ‘Bene. I will call a meeting with my PR team and get the ball rolling.’
He held the door open for her before striding ahead out into the large bustling atrium of the top floor.
Nicole frowned. That was it? She had just agreed to marry him—surely they had more to discuss? Their living arrangements...the backstory for this ridiculous charade.
She followed quickly behind him, all the while feeling as though her head was no longer attached to her neck. She was doing the right thing, surely? This was the best course of action for her daughter. It didn’t matter that she was essentially selling her life to this man in return. It was a business arrangement. He would likely be gone most of the time and she would be free to carry on raising her daughter in peace.
‘Rigo—wait.’ She reached out, bringing them both to a stop. ‘I need to know what happens next. This is all very fast.’
‘I will take care of it. You just need to worry about playing your part.’
Nicole felt the coldness of his words right down to her toes. Unable to speak, she nodded her head, avoiding his eyes.
Rigo began tapping his phone. ‘I’ll have you both moved into my apartment immediately. You can give a list of the items you need from your old home to Alberto.’
‘We will be living together so soon?’ Nicole asked, dipping down to look in at Anna, where she still slept peacefully in her stroller.
‘We will need to get started on our united front right away. We will let the press know that we have nothing to hide.’ Rigo turned around, entering into a hushed conversation with his right-hand man and effectively cutting her off.
Nicole tried not to balk at his complete lack of interest in interacting with his daughter. She needed to curb her expectations here. There was no point in expecting anything close to normal from this arrangement. It was enough that Rigo had proposed marriage to protect their child. She wouldn’t dare to hope for anything more from him.
* * *
Rigo stayed as long as possible at the office before returning to his apartment. The ninth-floor penthouse in the sixteenth arrondissement had been his first purchase as CEO five years ago. It boasted a wide-open rooftop terrace and a sweeping view of the Bois du Boulogne. An ideal space for the little leisure time he took—the perfect blend of modern decor and 1930s vintage features to suit his taste. Although almost everything was made of hard edges and high gloss—not exactly the ideal place for a small child to roam about.
Listening for a moment, he was relieved to hear no noise coming from the bedrooms. Nicole and the child had been moved in early in the afternoon and he had purposely waited until well after dinner to return. He’d needed time to think, to process this monumental shift.
The living room held no signs of change at all. Everything lay just as he had left it that morning. It was a bachelor pad of the highest order, with a large black marble bar dominating one side of the dining area and a flat-screen television mounted in pride of place above the fireplace. Had it really only been fourteen hours since he had downed his coffee while watching the morning news? He had walked out through the door just as he had every other day, sure that he had everything in his life under control.
Nothing could have prepared him for those test results.
There had never been a single doubt in his mind that Nicole was chancing her arm at palming her pregnancy off on her richest conquest. Money-hungry admirers came with the territory when you were a Marchesi. He’d had enough experience of gold-diggers to last him a lifetime.
And now he was a father.
The thought hit him on the chest with heavy finality. He could sit there all night and brood, while getting painfully intoxicated, but that wouldn’t solve anything. It would only serve to leave him with a raging headache, and the issue of fatherhood would still be there in the morning.
He had long ago made a difficult choice, knowing that one day he would be able to reverse it if he so wished. But he had never once expected it to reverse itself. His doctor had assured him this afternoon that it was extremely rare. ‘Natural reversal’—that was what he’d called it. Rigo called it mutiny. He had become quietly accustomed to the idea of never having a child of his own. The decision to have a vasectomy had been both necessary and final.
What were the chances? The one night he had forgotten to use a condom... A night that he had never been able to forget...
Nicole Duvalle was the exact kind of woman he had spent the past ten years avoiding like the plague, and yet he had taken her to his bed without a second thought. That night he had thrown caution to the wind and taken what he wanted for once. For a brief moment in time he had believed that maybe he could be someone other than who he was. Being with her had unleashed a thirst inside him for something more than the rigid confines of his world. And then he had found out who she was and that thirst had disappeared with crushing finality.
She had been like a drug to his numbed senses. In a world of falseness she had seemed so real and pure. He had drowned in the intoxicating attraction that had burned between them, losing track of time. If his right-hand man hadn’t intervened and told him who she was...
He walked to the window, looking down at the inky darkness of the Bois du Boulogne. It didn’t matter what might have happened. It didn’t get much more complicated than this. He was engaged to marry a woman with a reputation murkier than most politicians. She had raised hell through the tabloids for most of her adult life and she was only twenty-five. Nicole swore that she was a changed woman and that she wanted nothing from him or the media. But he knew all too well how a woman could lie.
Feeling tiredness seep into his bones, he made the decision to choose his usual eight hours’ sleep over a night of wallowing in the past. He walked down the hall to his bedroom, pausing when he noticed the decidedly feminine articles of clothing draped across his bed sheets. The bathroom door opened and Nicole emerged, her hair wet from showering, covered by only a short bathrobe.
She jumped when she saw him, standing completely still in the doorway.
Rigo’s breath hitched. The scent of warm vanilla and honey was reaching across the room to tease his senses.
Nicole pulled the belt of her robe tighter around her small waist, the movement only serving to push her breasts out further against the thin fabric. Rigo clenched his fist by his side.
‘They put all my things in here with yours.’ She spoke quickly, avoiding his eyes. ‘Your housekeeper was very...excited.’
‘I see.’
Rigo briefly took in the two perfectly toned creamy thighs below the bathrobe and felt the tension in his muscles increase. His gaze must have given away some of his thoughts, because Nicole cleared her throat and quickly grabbed her clothing from the bed. Without another word, she slipped back into the bathroom to dress, closing the door behind her.
Rigo leaned back against the dresser, feeling his breath hiss out between his teeth. This was an unforeseen complication in an otherwise perfect plan. His staff was from the best agency in Paris, but nothing was truly confidential in his world. They were presenting the media with a whirlwind love story. It was expected that he should share a bed with his new fiancée. As any red-blooded man would.
He had thought that seeing her for who she was would effectively erase whatever it was that had drawn them together that night. Clearly his body had other ideas.
He undid the buckle of his belt, sliding it out from its loops and coiling it up into a tight spiral as he walked across the room. His walk-in dressing room was of the highest specifications, with personalised nooks and cabinets for every little detail. Organisation was his secret pleasure. Seeing everything perfectly lined up gave him a sense of calm.
He opened his belt drawer to find it only half filled with his own items. The second half contained an array of colourful scarves. Frowning, he opened the next cabinet, to find that completely rearranged, too. His housekeeper had clearly taken a shine to Nicole, he thought with an uncomfortable prickle of foreboding. If they were expected to share a bed, of course they would be expected to share closet space. He felt as if he had jumped head first into a rabbit hole and there was no going back.
He abandoned his dressing room with a scowl, returning into the main bedroom to find Nicole dressed in simple pale pink linen pyjama trousers and a white tank top. She was gathering her things into a small case, a frown marring her brow.
‘All your things have been put away in my dressing room.’
His voice came out harsher that he’d intended. Nicole looked at him incredulously.
‘Is that somehow my fault?’
Rigo raked his hand over the growth of hair on his jaw, his mind wrestling with the myriad implications he hadn’t foreseen. ‘We will need to share a bed until this wedding is over with,’ he gritted, removing his tie and folding it up on the antique dresser. ‘We can’t risk the staff spreading rumours.’
Nicole’s brow rose. ‘That’s not happening.’
‘What’s wrong? Afraid you won’t be able to control yourself?’
He watched as she bit hard on her lower lip, looking away from him. When she looked back he was surprised to find anger in her expression rather than embarrassment.
‘This isn’t what I agreed to, Rigo.’ She stared at him. ‘It’s not...appropriate for this arrangement.’
‘Believe me, I am not a threat to you. I’m counting down the days until this wedding is over just as much as you are.’
‘Well, then, why on earth would we need to sleep together? Surely you trust your own employees?’
‘I make it a rule not to trust anyone.’ He began to open the buttons at his neck, noticing how her eyes followed the movement. ‘We are supposed to be in a whirlwind love affair here. We will share a bed. End of discussion.’
‘It’s nice to see that I have some say in this arrangement.’
‘About as much of a say as I do, cara,’ he drawled. ‘Sleeping alongside each other is the least of our worries right now.’ He removed his shirt, folding it up before moving to unhook his trousers. He looked up to find Nicole watching him.
She cleared her throat as if to speak, but no sound came out. He almost smiled when she averted her eyes, sliding quickly under the covers and pulling them up to her chin. He might have won this round, but who was the real winner when the prize was a night of physical torture?
Rigo finished undressing, opting to leave his boxers on. He usually slept completely nude, but he decided that might be a step too far in this cosy little arrangement. He lay down, crossing his arms behind his head. Her breathing was slow and contained, but he could sense the tension coming off her in waves. They both felt it—the madness they were capable of unleashing if they let their guards down.
He was in for a long night.
* * *
It took a moment for Nicole’s mind to adjust when she awoke in Rigo’s bed the next morning. Holding her breath, she turned to find the other side of the bed empty. The sheets were still warm, so he hadn’t been gone long. Sleeping next to a wall of half-naked muscle had seemed an impossible task last night, but in the end she had slept soundly, having been so exhausted from the day’s events.
The apartment was quiet. Anna had woken once briefly for comfort in the night but had fallen back to sleep in the crib that Rigo had arranged to be transported from her home along with the rest of her things. While she still slept Nicole took her time to shower and apply light make-up, silently thanking the staff’s efficiency in having all of her belongings transferred from La Petite so quickly.
The thought of her beautiful farmhouse being occupied by new tenants made her heart break. All the little homely touches she had added would be removed and painted over...all trace of their time there gone. That life was just a memory now.
She’d agreed to this marriage for Anna—to give her a relationship with her father and a better life than she could offer. But still something plagued her. It was almost as though she had got away from the ever-present threat of the media only to be presented with another, less obvious threat in Rigo.
She was glad when Anna finally awoke so that she could focus on the usual routine of her day and avoid the uncomfortable thoughts that played on her mind. But she soon found that ‘normal’ wasn’t so easy to achieve with a housekeeper anticipating her every need. A breakfast buffet was presented to her, along with an array of freshly prepared baby meals for Anna. Fresh fruit, crêpes, pastries and steaming coffee filled the kitchen island.
Nicole thanked the woman for her thoughtfulness. The food was much better than the simple meals she had learned how to prepare in La Petite. She had never cooked more than toast for herself before moving away from London, having always eaten in trendy restaurants and cafés in order to be ‘seen’. But surprisingly learning to cook and bake had been a secret joy of hers while she was pregnant, along with cleaning and just being self-sufficient.
Sitting here and seeing that all of her baby’s bottles had been washed and steamed, all of their clothing laundered and pressed... It made her feel strangely redundant. She felt a deep frown settling between her brows and instinctively smoothed it away.
‘Nicole, the nannies are here to be interviewed.’ Alberto’s tall, thin frame appeared in the doorway, startling her.
‘Nannies?’ Nicole swallowed a mouthful of melon and stood up to face Rigo’s right-hand man. ‘I never arranged for any interviews.’
‘Rigo made a shortlist from the most elite agency in Paris.’ He smoothed his shirt absentmindedly, clearly bored with the day’s task.
‘I didn’t agree to a nanny,’ Nicole argued. ‘This is something he should have cleared with me first,’ she said quietly.
‘I’m just the messenger. Take it up with him if you have a problem,’ he droned.
She bit her lip and picked up her mobile phone. She would call him and calmly tell him that it was not okay for him to commandeer her life simply because they were going to be married. She took a breath, then paused, suddenly realising she didn’t actually have her fiancé’s phone number.
Alberto rolled his eyes at her request, pressing a button on his own phone and handing it to her. Nicole avoided the older man’s cynical gaze. He made her feel deeply uncomfortable any time he was around. The memory of him silently escorting her out of this apartment all those months ago had never truly left her.
She was shaken from her thoughts as Rigo’s deep baritone answered with a curt, ‘Si?’
‘Did you arrange for someone to care for my daughter without consulting me first?’
A shuffling of papers could be heard in the background, along with hushed talking before he spoke to her again. ‘Yes, I arranged for a selection of candidates to arrive this morning. As I’m sure Alberto has already informed you, seeing as you are calling me from his phone.’
‘Why would you presume that I need help, Rigo? I’ve cared for her just fine for the past six months of her life—or do you think me incapable?’ She heard the hostility in her voice, but didn’t care.
Rigo sighed on the other end of the line. ‘Nicole. You will have a handful of events to attend and an entire wedding weekend to get through. I hardly think walking down the aisle with the child strapped to your back will be practical, now, do you?’
Nicole bit her lip, absorbing his words. She had been so caught up in the storm of changes that she hadn’t even thought of who would care for Anna. She had never needed anyone to watch her daughter before now, having spent all her time at home with her. Perhaps she did need someone trustworthy—just until the wedding was done with...
‘I’ll take your silence as an apology,’ Rigo drawled on the other end of the line. ‘Is there anything else you would like to accuse me of this morning, or will that be all?’
‘No, that was it,’ she said quickly, her cheeks burning. ‘I’m sorry for presuming that you thought—’
‘Don’t worry about it.’ He cut across her, and the sound of voices became louder in the background. ‘I have to go, but make sure you are ready at seven this evening.’
‘Ready? For what?’ She frowned.
‘We’re going to dinner.’
With that the call ended, and Nicole looked unbelieving at the device in her hand. He had just demanded she be ready at a certain hour—was that how this arrangement was going to go?
Alberto coughed pointedly in the doorway and she rolled her eyes. ‘Yes, all right. I’ll be in in a moment.’
She handed him his phone and breathed a sigh of relief once she was left alone in the kitchen for the first time. Anna sat in her high chair, happily sucking on a piece of buttered toast and watching her intently.
‘What on earth have I got us into, baby girl?’ she whispered, brushing a tendril of dark hair behind her daughter’s ear.
Anna’s answering gurgle was completely incoherent, as expected, and yet it made her smile. She knew that the key to getting through this wedding alive was to focus on her daughter every step of the way and put her own needs last.
If only her future husband didn’t seem so intent on making everything so difficult.
* * *
‘Isn’t this a little flamboyant?’ Nicole’s eyes widened as she took in the gilded sign above the restaurant door. ‘We could have spoken in private in the apartment just as easily.’
‘The food is good here, and we need to be seen in public.’ He guided her inside, speaking briefly to the hostess and angling them both slightly away from the line of guests at the door.
It shouldn’t surprise her that a man with Rigo’s taste and reputation would choose to take her to the most exclusive restaurant in Paris. The two-hundred-year-old building was situated right next to the gardens of the Palais Royal and was one of the finest Michelin-starred establishments the city had to offer.
The hostess ushered them to a private dining room and introduced them to their own personal maître d’ for the evening.
The restaurant was one of the few in Paris that she had never eaten in before. The waiting list was impossibly long and she’d only ever visited before on short trips. There was no way Rigo could have got in at such short notice, even if he was a billionaire. Unless he’d already had this table reserved for tonight...for dinner with someone else. The thought did strange things to her stomach.
Biting her lip, she focused on the stunning decor that surrounded them as the waiter laid down their napkins and filled their crystal glasses with iced water. Ornate golden mirrors lined the walls of the dining room and neoclassical frescoes adorned the ceiling along with stucco garlands and roses.
‘I’ll admit I’ve become a little jaded by gourmet food of late, but Le Chef Martin is one of the best in Paris.’
Rigo gestured for Nicole to peruse the menu, and in the end they agreed on a menu plaisir—a bespoke sample menu designed by the chef himself.
Nicole allowed her glass to be filled with a fragrant golden wine. She was aware of her empty stomach and limited herself to only one small sip, feeling the smooth liquid warm her insides instantly.
‘We will be throwing an engagement party in three days.’ His deep voice interrupted her thoughts. ‘The process is going to be very fast and intense, so my PR team will want to brief you about interacting with the press.’
Nicole gulped. ‘Is there really a need for all this fanfare? It seems to make more sense for an arrangement like this to take place in an office or something.’
‘A large wedding is expected in my family. Anything to the contrary would draw suspicion,’ he said, making it clear that the issue was not open for discussion. ‘We will be married at an exclusive secret location on the first of the month.’
‘That’s less than three weeks away.’ She felt her fingers tighten on her wine glass. This was all of a sudden becoming so much more than the simple solution she had agreed to.
‘Why the frown? You will be the star of your very own fairy tale, Nicole. I had thought you would be jumping for joy.’
‘Because I’m so fame hungry, right?’ Her temper threatened to flare but she curbed it, taking a small sip of wine. ‘If it inflates your ego to think I’m overjoyed to be marrying you, then by all means please continue.’
Rigo sighed. ‘We will need to find a way to stop this enmity if we hope to convince people this is genuine.’
‘I’ll just draw upon my mediocre acting skills, shall I?’
‘I’m serious, Nicole. There is a lot at stake here for both of us. The press is not going to be gentle.’ He raised a brow. ‘But I’m sure you’ve grown a tough skin over the years.’
‘I’ve been given no choice.’ Nicole sat back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other and casually smoothing out her dress across her knee.
‘So why run away from them in the first place?’ he asked. ‘Why not sell your story straight away?’
‘Instead of selling it now, you mean?’ She squared her shoulders at his veiled comment. ‘Is that why we’re here? For you to try to make me confess my crimes?’
Rigo shrugged. ‘I’m just trying to make sense of the woman I’m set to marry.’
‘Well, you clearly already have me tarred, so forgive me if I don’t feel like pleading my case.’ Nicole felt the shame of his accusation wash over her.
‘You’re not on trial here, Nicole. Whether or not you leaked that story makes no difference to me. I don’t need to trust you.’
‘Good, because I will never trust you,’ she countered.
‘Well, then, this is an excellent start to any marriage.’ His laugh was entirely false as he took a sip of his wine and continued to survey her with that cool blue gaze.
‘I’m sure we will live happily ever after,’ Nicole said drily. She wished she were back in the apartment watching Anna sleep rather than sitting here under his scrutiny.
‘Ah, there’s that sarcasm again,’ Rigo said harshly. ‘We may not be traditionally happy, Nicole, but we owe it to each other to make things tolerable at least. We’re in this for the long run after all.’
Nicole sat up straight in her seat. ‘Just how long do you plan to stay married?’
‘We are barely engaged and you are already planning the divorce?’
She felt his comment like a slap in the face. ‘I’m aware that you see me as a cheap copy of my mother, Rigo. Please stop insulting me.’ She cleared her throat and looked away from him, refusing to show any sign of the emotion that was bubbling under the surface.
‘Look at me. That is not what I meant.’
His hand on her wrist turned her back to him, the contact sending a thrill of electricity up her arm.
‘Per l’amore di Dio, everything I say is not a deliberate attack on your character.’
‘You have made presumptions about my character since the first time we met. At least be upfront about your opinion of me and then maybe we can move on.’
‘You want me to be honest? Fine.’ He sat back in his seat. ‘When I first saw you in that ballroom I pinned you as yet another husband hunter, joining the pack. I didn’t know your name but I knew your type. Desperate to be noticed. You were everything I deliberately avoid, and yet...I couldn’t take my eyes off you.’ He took a sip of his wine, keeping her pinned with his eyes as he continued to speak in that low, husky tone. ‘I kept seeking you out in the room, listening for your laugh. It was irritating, and damned infectious, and it made me desperate to know what the hell was so funny.’
Nicole remembered looking up into those deep blue eyes for the first time, being pinned by the infamous Marchesi blue gaze. She had already been far out of her depth and she hadn’t even known it.
‘You entranced me, Nicole. It’s rare that I do anything without a second thought. But with you... I don’t think either of us did much thinking after that first dance.’
She felt his gaze sweep over her features, down past the neckline of her dress. It wasn’t leering or inappropriate, the way he looked at her. It was the same way he had looked at her that night all those months ago. As though she were a work of art that his eyes needed to worship and savour. As though she was the singularly most beautiful woman on the earth.
She bit her lip, calming the rage of hormones that seemed to have risen within her. It must be a combination of the wine and being out for the first time in a long time, she argued with herself, and nothing to do with the magnetic male presence across the table from her.
‘And now look—it seems I’ve caught myself a husband after all.’ She raised her glass in a mock toast, desperate to steer the conversation back to safer waters.
‘If that were true you might possibly be the most forward-planning woman in history.’
His words were intended as jest, but Nicole could see a hint of speculation in his eyes.
They were interrupted by the arrival of the first dish: the chef’s specialty, pâté en croute. Nicole took her first bite and stifled the urge to moan. This was so more than just food. It was a work of culinary art. It made the tension of their conversation melt away as the food took over.
The meal passed slowly from there, with the chef changing the wine with every new dish. In typical French style they took their time—food in France was an event after all.
Rigo asked politely about her life in L’Annique. She told him about her farmhouse, La Petite, and the relatively quiet life she had led. Her heart mourned the loss of the secluded paradise she had created for herself and her daughter. The daughter he hadn’t even held yet...
By the time the waiter had finished clearing away their fifth tasting—a dish of succulent lobster claws on a bed of warm rhubarb—Nicole was feeling thoroughly indulged and refused the offer of a dessert platter. Rigo agreed, dismissing the waiter, who removed himself swiftly, leaving them alone.
‘I have something to give you,’ he said.
Nicole watched as Rigo reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved a small grey lacquered box with a single silver rose painted on top. She had been in Paris on enough occasions in the past to know that the box came from Fournier, one of the most expensive luxury jewellery boutiques in the city. She felt her stomach clench tightly as he laid it on the table in front of her.
Without a word she eased open the top and took a moment to survey the glittering diamond ring that lay within. It was huge. The large white diamond virtually dwarfed the rest of the platinum band, which was encrusted with more sparkling gems.
‘This looks...very expensive,’ she offered, not exactly knowing what else to say as she laid the box back down on the table.
‘I gave it to you to put on, Nicole. Not to decorate the table.’
When she didn’t make an immediate move he leaned forward, taking the ring out of the box and offering his hand to her. She placed her hand in his and watched as he slid the band slowly onto her third finger. The stone was so large it bumped her knuckle.
Rigo surveyed the end result before releasing her hand. ‘Now. You are officially my fiancée.’
Nicole looked up at the man she had agreed to join her life with and tried to resist the urge to scratch at the band so tightly clamped on her finger. Biting her lip, she swirled the remaining wine around her glass a couple of times.
A phone beeped. Rigo pulled a sleek black device from his pocket and frowned at the screen. ‘The press have arrived. I had our location leaked.’
‘They’re here?’ Nicole breathed, looking around as though expecting cameras to start appearing from the walls.
He nodded. ‘Outside. It’s time for us to leave.’ He stood and motioned for the waiter to retrieve their coats.
Nicole wrapped her light jacket around her shoulders, hurrying to catch up with his long strides. Rigo stopped just before the open doorway, turning to her and taking her hand in his. His skin was hard and warm on hers and he stood so close she could smell the scent of aftershave on his skin.
‘All you need to do is act naturally.’
Nicole nodded, her insides quivering at the familiarity of the situation. ‘Act naturally’—what a paradoxical phrase. There was nothing natural about this relationship...nothing to help her feel comfortable by Rigo’s side. She had done this a thousand times—waited in anticipation before playing her part for the press. Only this time she wasn’t alone.
Rigo stepped forward, and the dull hum of the crowd outside travelled through the air. She barely caught a glimpse of the first flash before Rigo’s head suddenly descended, his lips covering hers in a kiss that took her breath away. Momentarily stunned, Nicole didn’t dare to move as his scent enveloped her, his warm muscular forearm sliding around her waist to hold her against the hard planes of his abdomen.
His lips grew more demanding as his tongue demanded entrance, sliding hot and hard against hers in a sinfully erotic rhythm. His other hand swept her hair back and rested against her cheek, the heat of his palm seeming to scorch her. She moaned low in her throat as she finally began to give in to the delicious sensation—only to have Rigo break the kiss just as quickly as it had begun.
His voice was low and husky in her ear as he turned them both to face the wall of cameras. ‘Make sure they see the ring.’
