He’d been standing behind his desk, crisscrossed by silver-edged shadows. But now he stepped forward, his hand coming up self-consciously so he could adjust his tie when it didn’t need adjusting. And there it was: a dull gleam on his fourth finger. A ring to match Nathaniel’s. “I’m…we’re…” “Engaged,” I said. “Bellerose should have told you. I mean, your magazine.” My world was a platinum circle. It was manacles on my wrists. A vise around my heart. “Congratulations.”
