“This is a lot of fucking gold,” I murmur. It wasn’t easy sleeping last night. I kept thinking of the things Violet and Melody said, how easily the brothers discredited Asher, and the expectation of violence in what me and Asher would bring to the table and the fact that it was seen as the easy way. The only aggression I like in my relationships is ass slapping, gagging, and choking. And that doesn’t count as aggression if you’re doing it right.
“Platinum, too,” Asher comments as we walk through the room that holds the family jewels. It’s in its own armed room separate from where the large crystal is housed. How many fucking rooms does this home have? I’d consider it a mansion, except I feel like mansions should have guards at the front gate too. Or a personal gym. There’s a pool we haven’t tried, but not a gym that I’ve noticed.
This is the true treasure trove. I look through glass cases as we walk, noting a few pieces that I may have liked or picked if we hadn’t been directed to a particular diamond set. I have no idea what this coveted ring is supposed to look like other than it was likely yellow, but there are so many other gorgeous ones that I didn’t get why Melody or Violet would be pissed to pick a second choice.
“Here it is,” Asher whispers as if the ring is a sleeping baby he doesn’t want to disturb. I turn from my perusal and look where he is pointing, losing a breath.
“Okay, I get it,” I say and take back all other thoughts of rings I could have chosen for my fake engagement. This is it. The other women didn’t get this beauty and I would. It makes me like Marlow a little more for letting me and Asher have the honor when the other higher performing brothers had wanted it for their wives.
Asher opens the glass case and I pick up the ring, holding it up in the light. It sparkles, of course, but there is some sort of presence to it that I cannot describe. I don’t know what it is, but I know this ring has a history. It holds one yellow-gold stone in the center with alternating yellow and black small stones surrounding it on a gold band.
I look down at the stones, studying them. “I imagine the yellow stones are citrine since she called it the citrine ring?”
“The big one in the middle is citrine, yes, but the smaller stones alternating with the obsidian are canary diamonds,” Asher says, his hand warm on my back.
I nearly drop the ring. “That sounds expensive.”
“And custom. The obsidian is from our large crystal.”
I look at it more intently, wondering if that is the reason for the presence I feel from it.
“Is that the real reason why people want this one, other than it being a big rock and pretty? Does it do anything?” I hold the ring in my palm. It looks like it will fit me, but for some reason I can’t bring myself to try it on.
“No, I think it’s more of a status symbol. We have enough money that we could commission anyone to make jewelry from our crystals. I’m pretty sure August added some of the crystal to the watch he wears. Technically, this means you can add to the crystal as well with this ring. You don’t need to do so only with me.” Asher shrugs. “But either way, Mom has always said no to other people using it, so my siblings want to be the one that she says yes to.”
“Great, I love that we are winning already. You aren’t as helpless as I thought.” I inch a little closer to him, angling away from the display cases. My palm holds the ring toward him, as if asking for permission.
“Hey, I’m not helpless,” he replies with a hand to his chest in mock offense. He smiles seconds later and takes the ring from me, grabbing my left hand with his other.
“Your mom believes you can succeed now, so it’s a win in your column. I’ll give you that,” I say and freeze when he positions the ring at the edge of my ring finger.
“She only thinks that because you are here.” Asher slides it on me and it fits perfectly, like it was made for me. I remind myself this is fake. We may be kind of dating now, or at least exclusively fucking only each other, but he did not actually propose.
“Yeah, and you convinced me to be here. I don’t help all the idiots I encounter, so take the damn compliment.” I curl my now adorned hand around his and squeeze.
“Your compliments are weird.” He pulls me to him.
“You’ll get used to it,” I reply.
“One more thing,” Asher says. He pulls a switchblade from his back pocket.
“Do you always carry that around?” I ask, surprised.
“Most of the time.” He shrugs. “But in taking the ring, you need to prick your finger and put a few drops on top of the obsidian. That reignites it with the crystal. With this, you’ll log energy too. When I add my blood on top, the system will know your numbers get added to mine.” He turns the blade up, extending a hand out. I place my right hand in his and he makes a small nick at my pointer finger. He holds the finger until a bead of blood pools.
“Now rub it on the stones,” he instructs me. I do as he says, wincing only slightly. I watch amazed as the stones seem to absorb it.
“Your name is now on the board,” Asher says. He wipes the knife on his jeans and then pricks his own finger, adding his blood on top of where I put mine. It absorbs just like before.
“And now your name becomes mine,” Asher explains. He puts the knife back in his back pocket and takes my hands.
I look up at him and see a softness in his eyes. I’m sure my eyes are reflecting the same way back to him. I tilt my chin up and we kiss. We hold each other like that for a time, together in a room of blood money, diamonds, crystals, and generations of pain.