11
THE BRILLIANT STONE caught the sunlight through the window, reflecting an arc of rainbow colors against Verena’s white blouse.
Perched on the edge of her office desk, Verena stared at the solitaire ring nestled in the robin’s-egg-blue jewelry box. She was utterly dumbfounded.
“What is this?” she asked uncomfortably.
“A perfect diamond. About three carats,” Derrick said, sliding next to her in his custom gray suit. “It’s D grade for colorless, and FL IF. That means it’s flawless. Just like you.”
Irritated at his presumption, Verena flung up her palm. “That’s not what I meant.”
He went on, unfazed by her anger. “I saw it in Tokyo at Tiffany’s. I want you to know my feelings for you haven’t changed.”
“Did you feel guilty about being too busy to shop for rings when we were actually e
