It was exquisite and she desperately wanted to slip it on her left ring finger, because it was an intimate gift from him, not because she was naive enough to think they were engaged. She swallowed deeply and slid it on her right hand instead and twisted her hand this way and that, watching it catch the overhead light and glisten brightly. There was no question that it fit her ring finger perfectly, so the only choice she had was which hand to wear it on.
She absolutely didn't want to be presumptuous and wear it on her left hand, but there was an insidious little whisper in her brain that was telling her that he wanted her to wear it on her left hand. If she put it on her right hand, he might never say anything and it would then have to remain on her right hand.
If she put it on her left, she might please him and the worst that could happen would be complete humiliation if he told her to move it. She knew one thing; she had to go slowly with him.
She bit her lip in indecision and then shoved it on her left ring finger. She gasped out loud from the perfect way it felt on her hand and from the comfort she derived from it.
Now if only she had guessed correctly and she was allowed to keep it there.
****
Marco watched as Natalie left the bedroom and entered the living area of the suite. They hadn't made any definitive plans for supper, but she was dressed in a new, slinky pantsuit that defined casual elegance and could be worn in comfort at home, or would stand up in public as well. Around her neck was the necklace he'd given her, and he could see the earrings glittering through the fall of her pale hair.
He swiftly looked to her hand to see if she'd put the ring on as well. Satisfaction, hard and piercing, ran through his blood when he saw his diamond on her left ring finger. The ring was big enough and noticeable enough to ensure the kind of attention she'd been attracting in the last few weeks when they went out would go away. He didn't like the looks she'd been getting, not a damned bit. She was bright and vibrant and her face glowed with a compelling, innocent beauty that never failed to attract attention wherever they went.
And he hated it.
But short of keeping her locked in all the time, he couldn't think of a single fucking way to keep all the goddamn eyes off her. But at least now when they looked, his ring would be prominently displayed on her hand and she would be marked as his.
Now if he could only get her to agree to have his initials tattooed across the top swell of her breast, he'd be a happy man. The erotic thought ran through his mind only in jest but took hold firmly in his brain and he couldn't seem to shake it.
The image wouldn't go away and he knew without hesitation that if she'd ever allow it, he would jump all over that shit.
****
New York had been brilliant. The week had been brilliant and their relationship had improved and grown from the experience.
Natalie hugged the thought to her as they travelled together up the elevator to the penthouse when they arrived home. No doubt he'd been pleased when he'd seen the ring on her finger, and even more so the next day when she'd worn only the ring and not the rest of the set when he'd taken her sightseeing.
It had set a precedent that she was pleased with. She wore the ring all the time, even at night, and fierce pleasure ran through her when on several occasions, he'd picked her fingers up, laced them with his, and kissed the back of her hand, his lips brushing against the ring as well. He was a man of few words, but his actions gave her both comfort and hope.
The elevator doors swooshed open, and Natalie stepped into the penthouse in a pleasurable haze. She looked around and came to a halt, the suddenness of her stop making him crash into her as he wrapped his arm around her waist to steady her.
As she looked around the interior of the penthouse, her heartbeat went wild and she tried desperately to catch her breath. He spoke from behind her. "Come on. I haven't seen it, either."
He propelled her into the room, moved his arm from her waist to grip her hand, and led her through the apartment one room at a time.
Natalie had no words as she looked around in stunned appreciation. She was completely speechless as he looked from one room to the next, and made only minor comments as he pulled her along. She tried like hell to answer him, but she was very much afraid her words were only garbled sounds of agreement and pleasure. Or so she hoped, at least.
He'd had the penthouse completely redecorated while they'd been gone. Everything had been swept away as if it had never been, and the entire home was redone with new furniture, accessories, paint and flooring.
It was reminiscent of the decor from the restaurant that she had cooed over and she loved it. She loved everything about it, from the warm colors to the stone accents and everything in between.
But she was totally taken aback that he'd had it done. For her? What other answer could there be? He led her over to a plush, comfortable couch with a large, matching ottoman that served as a coffee-table. He pulled her down with him, testing it out.
"What do you think?" he asked.
"I--I--" Natalie was still completely speechless--almost afraid to react.
He grimaced as if in pain. "If you don't like it, it's not a problem. I'll have the decorator come out again and redo it the way you want it. Shit. I'm sorry. I should have let you choose to begin with."
She laid her hand on his arm to silence him. "Marco, stop." She looked away from his eyes and then back again. "It's perfect--perfect. I couldn't have done better. I love it."
"Thank fuck. It took them the full week to do. We'd have to move out again."
She clenched his arm and looked around the room. "You did all this for me?"
"I didn't do it for me." His eyes were like razors as they watched closely for her reaction.
"But--why?"
"You know why, Natalie. You hated it. And I can't have you hating our home, or you might leave."
"I wouldn't leave just because of the decor." She stated simply.
"Not a chance I was willing to take, okay?" His words were firm and Natalie knew by his tone that the conversation was over.
"Okay," she whispered.
Chapter Nine
A week later, Natalie walked out of the apartment with both phones in her bag and the SIM cards switched.
She'd worried over the thought of him tracking her more than she cared to think about. The situation couldn't go on. Everything was good between them. Their relationship was progressing at a slow but good pace. They were in a place she was very comfortable with. Although only defined as 'a couple,' she wore a ring he had given her, and that was enough for her.
The house had been redecorated for her, and that pleased her beyond belief. The night after they'd gotten home from New York, as he'd wandered in and out of the kitchen after she'd cleaned up after supper, she pulled everything from the cabinets and reorganized them to her satisfaction, as if it were her own kitchen.