With men like Mr. diPietro, the more expensive the better, but the truth was, it was a good deal. For Reinhardt to stay in business, one had to balance volume and margin: too much margin, not enough volume. Besides, assuming Mr. diPietro stayed out of jail and/or bankruptcy, this was the kind of man James wanted to have a long relationship with.

Mr. diPietro handed the ring back and studied the certs. “Tell me about the others.”

James swallowed his surprise. “Of course. Yes, of course.”

He proceeded from right to left through the tray and described the attributes of each ring, all the while wondering whether he had misread his client. He also had Terrence bring in six more, all over five carats.

An hour later, Mr. diPietro sat back in the chair. The man had not stretched or wavered in his attention and there had been no quick checks of his BlackBerry or jokes to break the tension. He hadn’t even glanced in passing at Janice, who was lovely.

Total and complete absorption.

James had to wonder about the woman whose finger would bear the ring. She’d be beautiful, naturally, but she’d have to be very independent and not very emotional. Generally speaking, even the most logical and successful man got a glint in his eye when he bought a ring like one of these for his woman—whether it was the thrill of surprising her with something over the top or the pride that came with being able to afford something that only .01 percent of the population could, the men usually showed some emotion.

Mr. diPietro was as cold and hard as the stones he regarded.

“Is there something else I might show you?” James said, deflating. “Some rubies or sapphires, perhaps?”

The client reached inside his suit jacket and brought out a thin black wallet. “I’ll take the first one you showed me for two million even.” As James blinked, Mr. diPietro put a credit card on the desktop. “If I’m giving you my money, I want you to work for it. And you will be discounting the stone, because your business needs repeat clients like myself.”

James took a moment to catch up with the fact that a transaction might actually occur. “I…I appreciate your discerning eye, but the price is two million, three hundred thousand.”

Mr. diPietro tapped the card. “That’s debit. Two million. Right now.”

James quickly did some math in his head. At that price he was still making about three hundred and fifty thousand on the piece.

“I believe I can do that,” he said.

Mr. diPietro did not sound surprised. “Smart of you.”

“What about sizing? Do you know what size your—”

“The seven-point-seven carats is the only size she’s going to care about. We’ll take care of the rest later.”

“As you wish.”