Rings and Rules

By the next morning, my life was no longer my own.

I woke up to three missed calls from William, a text from an unknown number confirming a “ring appointment” at nine a.m., and an email from someone named Sofia with a PDF titled Social Expectations & Protocols for Mrs. Adrian Knight.

The PDF was fifty-six pages.

It covered everything from dress codes for various events (“No denim in formal photographs”) to approved charity organizations I was “encouraged” to support. There were diagrams showing which fork to use at dinners, reminders about how to address members of the board, and even a list of topics I should avoid in public conversation—politics, religion, and “personal childhood anecdotes that may be misconstrued.”

By the time I’d skimmed the first ten pages, my coffee had gone cold.

The bell above the café door jingled. I didn’t have to look up to know it was Adrian.

“You’re late,” I said, sliding the phone across the counter toward him. “This was waiting in my inbox when I woke up.”

He glanced at the screen and shrugged. “Protocol. You’ll get used to it.”

“Get used to being told what I can and can’t talk about?”

“In my world,” he said evenly, “one wrong word can cost millions. You’ll be in that world now, Emma. These rules protect both of us.”

I crossed my arms. “You could’ve warned me.”

“I’m warning you now.” He glanced at his watch. “We’re going to be late for the jeweler.”

---

The store was nothing like the small-town jewelry shops I’d grown up with. No glass counters and fluorescent lights here—this was a penthouse suite with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Central Park. A discreet security guard stood by the door.

The jeweler himself was a tall man in a perfectly pressed charcoal suit, his smile warm but measured. “Mr. Knight, Miss Carter—welcome. Please, have a seat.”

Adrian took the chair beside me, his presence radiating calm authority. The jeweler laid out a velvet tray lined with rings, each one more dazzling than the last.

“Any preferences?” the jeweler asked me.

I stared at the glittering stones. “I don’t even know where to start.”

Adrian’s hand brushed mine. “Pick the one you like. Not the one you think you’re supposed to like.”

My gaze landed on a ring that was understated compared to the others—a simple band of platinum with a single, round-cut diamond. Elegant. Timeless.

“That one,” I said.

The jeweler nodded approvingly. “A classic choice.”

Adrian didn’t hesitate. “We’ll take it.”

As the jeweler disappeared into the back to size it, I turned to Adrian. “Why me?” I asked again, softer this time.

His eyes met mine, and for a moment, something unguarded flickered there. “Because you’re not afraid to tell me when I’m wrong.”

---

Back in the car, Adrian’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, his jaw tightening before he answered.

“Miranda,” he said.

Even without a speakerphone, I could hear the icy tone of the woman on the other end. “I just heard the most ridiculous rumor—that you’re getting married. Care to explain?”

“It’s true,” he said flatly.

“To her? Adrian, have you lost your mind? Do you realize what this will do to the family’s reputation?”

“Goodbye, Miranda,” he said, and hung up.

I raised an eyebrow. “That's your stepmother?”

“Yes.”

“She doesn’t sound thrilled.”

“She’s never thrilled. Don’t worry about her.”

The way his jaw stayed tight told me I should probably worry about her.

---

By the time we reached the Knight Estate, Sofia—the woman who’d sent me the protocol PDF—was waiting in the foyer. She was petite, sharp-eyed, with her dark hair pulled into a sleek bun.

“Miss Carter,” she said warmly, “it’s nice to finally meet you in person. I’ll be helping you transition into your new role.”

“New role,” I repeated. “Right.”

She handed me a leather-bound planner. “We have fittings this afternoon, a luncheon with Mrs. Whitmore tomorrow, and the wedding rehearsal on Thursday. There’s also a small matter of media training, which I’ve scheduled for Wednesday.”

I flipped through the planner, my head spinning. “This is… a lot.”

“It’s manageable,” Sofia assured me. “I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

Her tone was so confident it was almost comforting. Almost.

---

That evening, I called Lily.

“You sound… calm,” she said suspiciously.

“I’m trying to be,” I admitted. “It’s easier if I don’t think too hard about the fact that I’m marrying a billionaire in three days.”

“Easier for you, maybe. I’ve been Googling him nonstop. Did you know his stepmother was accused of insider trading last year?”

“No,” I said slowly.

“Yeah. Charges were dropped, but still. And there are, like, a hundred gossip articles about him—mystery women, yacht parties, disappearing for months at a time.”

“Lily—”

“I’m just saying, be careful. Guys like him don’t marry girls like us unless they have an angle.”

Her words lingered long after we hung up.

---

Later that night, I found myself in one of the Knight Estate’s countless sitting rooms, staring out at the city skyline. The air was thick with the faint scent of whatever high-end cologne Adrian favored.

I heard him enter before I saw him.

“Thinking about backing out?” he asked.

“No,” I said. “Just thinking about… rules. And angles. And why you’re really doing this.”

He came to stand beside me, close enough that I could feel the heat of him. “I told you. My father’s will, the board—”

“And Miranda,” I added.

His jaw tightened again. “And Miranda.”

“Why do I get the feeling she’s going to be a problem?”

“She will be,” he said without hesitation. “But she won’t win.”

The certainty in his voice was unsettling and oddly reassuring at the same time.

“Emma,” he said, and when I looked at him, his eyes held mine. “If you’re going to do this, you can’t hesitate. Not once. Not in public, not in private. People will be watching for cracks.”

I nodded slowly. “So we’re a team.”

A faint smile touched his lips. “Exactly.”

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