What kind of carat weight were you thinking of?” Ares tenses and straightens his back, his grip on my hand tightening. “I need it to be visible from across the room,” he says, his expression unyielding. “Would ten carats be okay? Perhaps fifteen.” My eyes widen, and I turn toward him. “Are you insane? That’s far too much.” Ares looks at me and shakes his head. “You’re a Windsor. You’re my wife. Nothing is too much.”
