The Value of Vulnerability by Roberta Pearce

Author:Roberta Pearce [Pearce, Roberta]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2014-06-22T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

The last rush of shoppers filled the streets as the limo moved through the city, and Ford thought of Erin. She would be en route to her parents’ for Christmas Eve festivities, to which she had invited him, but as he was heading to India, it was easy to decline. He had been tempted to talk her into going to Mumbai with him, but she was strangely impervious to his methods of persuasion.

Granted, putting effort into persuasion was rarely needed, so perhaps his skills were rusty.

“We’ll celebrate Christmas together when you come home,” she had said.

How was Christmas celebrated? Turkey dinner and the exchange of poorly chosen gifts?

He hit the intercom. “Stop. I’m getting out.”

Moments later, he found himself in a jewellery store. And did not know what he was doing.

“May I help you, sir?”

He turned to the salesman. “I require a gift.”

“For a young lady?”

“Yes.”

The man made a vague gesture at a display case of rings.

“No,” Ford said, half strangled and half amused.

“Perhaps something in a necklace,” the man backtracked. “What were you looking to spend?”

“Price is incidental.”

Eyes lit up and another case indicated. “Emeralds? Rubies? Diamonds?”

God, this was brutal. He dug for his phone, planning on calling Ms. Leung, who was the official handler with a proven track record. Diane had always cooed over Ms. Leung’s choices. Erin had liked the gloves.

Time was a factor, however. Apparently the stores were closing soon—though with all the people out shopping, it made little business sense.

He looked at the array of necklaces, ranging from delicate pendants to heavily encrusted collars. He could imagine Erin in any one of them . . . and nothing else. Fingering a diamond collar, he pictured her naked, striking a pose, the diamonds glittering at her throat.

It’s not a thoughtful gift.

Did that matter?

He looked around the store, and his mouth curved. “That,” he pointed, and put down a credit card. “I’ll need it engraved.”

“I’m afraid our engraver has left for the day. Just a few minutes ago, sir. You and the young lady can return after Christmas and have it engraved then.”

Ford tossed a wad of cash on the display case. “Call him back. I’ll wait.”

Later, walking out of the store to the limo that had been circling for over an hour, it struck Ford that he had never before bought a gift for anyone. That the experience had been surprisingly pleasurable. And that he did not want to wait until he came home for her to have it.

Things were becoming—as Erin would say—downright weird.

***

Crunching on a candy cane, Erin dug through the presents under the tree and came up with one for her mother, kneeling up to hand it to her. “Merry Christmas, Mom. It’s from a Secret Admirer.”

“Not him again!” Mrs. Russell mocked a suspicious glare at her husband.

“Stalker,” Dr. Russell agreed.

The floor of the Parents Russell’s living room was obliterated by piles of crumpled wrapping paper, Erin and Liana sitting in the mess in front of the Christmas tree as they had done since children, while the Parents Russell relaxed in matching armchairs.

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