His Ring Her Rules

Two months ago, I would have sipped my cheap wine, laughed, and swiped left on life if someone had told me that I would be living in a penthouse with a billionaire who is colder than the ice cubes in his whiskey. But here I was, wearing a dress that cost more than my college tuition, standing in front of a billboard-sized gold-framed mirror.

It was crimson. Not a gentle shade of red. Not courteous. It was a vivid shade of red. The kind that, when you entered a room, caused people to stop talking.

The hair was swept back. Money was whispered by the subtle diamond studs. And lips painted in a color I had never worn before tonight to match the dress.

I gazed at my own image. "You're not a medal. There is no scandal about you. Carter, you're Grace freaking. Go now and make some CEOs perspire.

Ethan was waiting for me when I entered the living room. Wearing a classic black tux, he looked unfairly sharp, with a set jaw, crisp collar, and a subtle hint of stubble that seemed like a designer choice.

He whirled—and stopped.

Slowly, as though attempting to take in what he was seeing, his eyes swept down. He remained silent. As if I had violated some internal algorithm, they just stared.

"Should I curtsy or twirl?" I raised an eyebrow in question.

He pulled the corner of his mouth up. "Neither. It wouldn't be professional.

"That's correct," I whispered. "God forbid we behave like people at a business dinner."

He simply offered me his arm without responding.

Ambition and power perfume filled the air inside the modern, chandelier-lit ballroom. Flutes of champagne, polished smiles, and laughter that stopped short of the eyes. Every woman appeared to have survived a scandal, and every man appeared to be a potential one.

With a steady, firm voice that never faltered, Ethan introduced me as his wife.

However, the looks did. Some people are interested. Some people are not happy. Some are blatantly vicious.

"Is she there?"

"The tabloids' person?"

"She's... surprising."

"Awesome. But I hear it's mouthy.

I let it slide off me like body glitter that costs too much. I gave Ethan a charming smile in return and leaned in to pretend to be intimate.

I whispered loud enough for people to hear, "Darling, should I tell you how we met? Or keep it PG?

He twitched his fingers against mine.

I got a tight smile from a board member with silver hair wearing an emerald dress. "All right, Grace. I understand that you are a writer.

"I am," I replied briskly. Stories where the haughty CEO realizes he's not always correct are my specialty. It's a very specialized genre.

Silence for a beat. An awkward cough came from someone.

Ethan did not recoil. He did, however, give me a look that was perilously close to amusement.

"It sounds like fiction," remarked a different executive sourly.

"Oh, of course. I winked and added, "But sometimes fiction becomes prophecy."

A half of the table laughed. The other half blinked as if I had given them a salad fork slap.

The question that everyone had been dying to ask aloud was finally asked halfway through the second course.

"All right, Grace... Was it love at first sight or damage control in this marriage?

I grinned and gently wiped my mouth with a napkin.

I replied, "Well, he did once buy me dinner." Then I passed out. I vomited in his sink after that. It was love, of course.

Ethan even faintly choked on his wine.

Laughter erupted around the table.

I wasn't there to blend in, but I had broken the ice and perhaps a few egos. With lipstick that matched my fire and a man by my side who was unsure of what to do with it, I was there to burn in silence.

Ethan was silent on the way back. His eyes were fixed on the road, his hands free on the steering wheel.

"You caught me off guard tonight," he finally said.

"I promised not to be wallpaper."

He gave his head a little shake. "You were... radiant."

I blinked.

"Did you swallow a thesaurus with dinner, or was that a compliment?"

He was not smiling. However, his tone had softened. "Grace, you held your own. They will keep that in mind.

I hid the tiny smile that was tugging at my lips as I gazed out the window.

Excellent.

Let them keep me in mind.

Show them that Mrs. Blackwood was more than just a story.

They weren't ready for the storm she was.