Page 48 of Top Shelf

“Good.”

His eyes hold mine again, and I look away toward the framed photograph of the lake.

“Is that Solvik?” I ask.

“Yes.”

The lake is dark beneath a pale sky, water rippling and twinkling in the sun. There’s a dock in the corner of the photo, slightly crooked and reaching out from a tree-lined shore.

“I understand why you’re fighting for it,” I say quietly, turning back to him. “And I understand this isn’t a small thing for you, either. Even if it’s temporary.”

“That is true.”

“And ridiculous.”

“Also true.”

We both huff a smile, our eyes locked. For the first time since he walked into the reception this morning, he seems relaxed. I take the opportunity to reach into my bag and pull out the ring box, and Viktor’s eyes drop to it.

“I’m not wearing this to the clinic tomorrow,” I say.

“Okay, but it needs to be believable.”

“It needs to be less likely to blind my patients.”

“I can get you a smaller one,” he says, reaching out to take it.

“No!” I yank the box back. “I-I didn’t mean that.”

His gaze lifts back to my heating face. “I just meant I’m not wearing it to the clinic tomorrow. That’s pretty standard practice, anyway. I can wear it other times, though.”

He watches me for a beat, then nods. “Okay.”

I open the box, and the diamond flashes up at me, enormous and absurd and suddenly much less ridiculous than it felt in my office. My fingers hover over it, but Viktor holds out his hand.

“May I?”

It’s a question inside a question that’s not about money or marriage, but for the simple consent of my hand in his. I nod before I can talk myself out of it.

He takes the ring from its cushion, and for a man built like a fucking telephone pole, he’s unfairly careful about it. His warm, rough fingers close around mine, and everything disappears from my head.

He slides the ring on, and his thumb rests against the base of my finger for half a second too long. The diamond looks ridiculous against my skin, a giant gleaming lie.

But his eyes stay on my hand, and mine do too.

“Well,” I say, flexing my fingers once as he removes his thumb. “It’s not subtle.”

Viktor’s voice is rough when he answers. “No, it is not.”

Our eyes meet again, and for a dangerous second, I forget every clause I wrote about no feelings or expectations, and definitely the no sex. All those words are somewhere in that folder, underlined in red hard enough to scar the page and waiting for lawyers to make it official. Those things should make me feel calm, but they don’t.

Because Viktor is standing in front of me in bare feet and a black T-shirt, looking at my hand like this ring means something he didn’t expect it to.

“Okay,” I say, stepping back first. “Great. So we have a plan.”

“We do.”

“A legally binding, mutually beneficial, non-romantic plan.”