Читать книгу It Started With A Diamond - Teri Wilson, Teri Wilson - Страница 11

Chapter Four

Diana called Artem repeatedly on her walk to Drake Diamonds, but his secretary refused to put her through. She kept insisting that he was in an important business meeting and had left instructions not to be disturbed, which only made Diana angrier. If such a thing was even possible.

A billboard. In Times Square.

She wanted to die.

Calm down. Just breathe. People will forget all about it in a day or two. In the grand scheme of life, it’s not that big a deal.

But there was no deluding herself. It was, quite literally, a big deal. A huge one. A whopping 25,000-square-foot Technicolor enormous deal.

Artem would have to take it down. That’s all there was to it. She hadn’t signed any kind of modeling release. Drake might be her last name, but that didn’t mean the family business owned the rights to her likeness.

Or did it? She wasn’t even sure. Drake Diamonds had been her sponsor on the equestrian circuit. Maybe the business did, in fact, own her.

God, why hadn’t she gone to college? She was in no way prepared for this.

She pushed her way through the revolving door of Drake Diamonds with a tad too much force. Urgent meeting or not, Artem was going to talk to her. She’d break down the door of his Drake-blue office if that’s what it took.

“Whoa, there.” The door spun too quickly and hurled her toward some poor, unsuspecting shopper in the lobby who caught her by the shoulders before she crashed into him. “Slow down, Wildfire.”

“Sorry. I just...” She straightened, blinked and found herself face-to-face with the poster boy himself. Franco. “Oh, it’s you.”

What was he doing here? Again? And why were his hands on her shoulders? And why was he calling her that ridiculous name?

Wildfire.

She’d loved that song when she was a little girl. So, so much.

Well, she didn’t love it anymore. In fact, Franco had just turned her off it for life.

“Good morning to you too, Diana.” He winked. He was probably the only man on planet Earth who could make such a cheesy gesture seem charming.

Ugh.

She wiggled out of his grasp. “Why are you here? Wait, don’t tell me. You’re snapping selfies for the Drake Diamonds Instagram.”

He was wearing a suit. Not a tuxedo this time, but a finely tailored suit, nonetheless. It was weird seeing him dressed this way. Shouldn’t he be wearing riding clothes? He adjusted his shirt cuffs. “It bothers you that I’m the new face of Drake Diamonds?”

“No, it doesn’t actually. I couldn’t care less what you do. It bothers me that I’m the new face of Drake Diamonds.” A few shoppers with little blue bags dangling from their wrists turned and stared.

Franco angled his head closer to hers. “You might want to keep your voice down.”

“I don’t care who hears me.” She was being ridiculous. But she couldn’t quite help it, and she certainly wasn’t going to let Franco tell her how to behave.

“Your brother will care,” he said.

“What are you talking about?” Then she put two and two together. Finally. “Wait a minute...were you just upstairs with Artem?”

He nodded. Diana must have been imagining things, because he almost looked apologetic.

“So you’re the reason his secretary wouldn’t put my calls through?” Unbelievable.

“I suppose so, yes.” Again, something about his expression was almost contrite.

She glared at him. He could be as nice as he wanted, but as far as Diana was concerned, it was too little, too late. “What was this urgent tête-à-tête about?”

Why was she asking him questions? She didn’t care what he and Artem had to say to each other...

Except something about Franco’s expression told her she should.

He leveled his gaze at her and arched a single seductive brow. Because, yes, even the man’s eyebrows were sexy. “I think you should talk to Artem.”

She swallowed. Something was going on here. Something big. And she had the distinct feeling she wasn’t going to like it. “Fine. But just so we’re clear, I’m talking to him because I want to. And because he’s my brother and sort of my boss. Not because you’re telling me I should.”

“Duly noted.” He seemed to be struggling not to smile.

She lifted her chin in defiance. “Goodbye, Franco.”

But for some reason, her feet didn’t move. She just kept standing there, gazing up at his despicably handsome face.

“See you tonight, Wildfire.” He shot her a knowing half grin before turning for the door.

She stood frozen, gaping after him.

Tonight?

She definitely needed to talk to Artem. Immediately.

She skipped the elevator and took the stairs two at a time until she reached the tenth floor, where she found him sitting at his desk as if it was any ordinary day. A day when Franco Andrade wasn’t wandering the streets of Manhattan wearing Tom Ford and planning on seeing her tonight.

“Hello, sis.” Artem looked up and frowned as he took in her appearance. “Why do you look like you just ran a marathon?”

“Because I just walked a few miles, then sprinted up the stairs.” She was breathless. Her legs burned, which was just wrong. She shouldn’t be winded from a little exercise. She was an elite athlete.

Used to be an elite athlete.

He gestured toward the wingback chair opposite him. “Take a load off. I need to talk to you, anyway.”

“So I’ve heard.” She didn’t want to sit down. She wanted to stand and scream at him, but that wasn’t going to get her anywhere. Besides, she felt drained all of a sudden. Being around Franco, even for a few minutes, was exhausting. “Speaking of which, what was Franco Andrade doing here just now?”

“About that...” He calmly folded his hands in front of him, drawing Diana’s attention first to the smooth surface of his desk and then to the oddly huge stack of newspapers on top of it.

She blinked and cut him off midsentence. “Is that my picture on the front page of the New York Daily News?”

She hadn’t thought it possible for the day to get any worse, but it just had. So much worse.

And the hits kept on coming. As she sifted through the stack of tabloids—all of which claimed she was having a torrid affair with “the drop-dead gorgeous bad boy of polo”—Artem outlined his preposterous idea for a public relations campaign. Although it sounded more like an episode of The Bachelor than any kind of legitimate business plan.

“No, thank you.” Diana flipped the copy of Page Six facedown so she wouldn’t have to look at the photo of herself and Franco on the cover. If she never saw that picture again, it would be too soon.

Artem’s brow furrowed. “No, thank you? What does that mean?”

“It means no. As in, I’ll pass.” What about her answer wasn’t he understanding? She couldn’t be more clear. “No. N.O.”

“Perhaps you don’t understand. We’re talking about the largest uncut diamond in the world. Do you have any idea what this could mean for Drake Diamonds?” There was Artem’s CEO voice again.

She wasn’t about to let it intimidate her this time. “Yes. I realize it’s very important, but we’ll simply have to come up with another plan.” Preferably one that doesn’t involve Franco Andrade in any way, shape or form.

“Let’s hear your suggestions, then.” He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “I’m all ears.”

He wanted her to come up with a plan now?

Diana cleared her throat. “I’ll have to give it some thought, obviously. But I’m sure I can come up with something.”

“Go ahead. I’ll wait.”

“Artem, come on. We can take the owners of the diamond out to dinner or something. Wine and dine them.”

“You realize every other jeweler in Manhattan is doing that exact same thing,” he said.

Admittedly, that was probably true. “There’s got to be a better way to catch their attention than letting everyone believe I’m having a scandalous affair with Franco.”

Please let there be another way.

“Not scandalous. Just high profile. Romantic. Glamorous.” Artem gave her a thoughtful look. “He told me you’d refuse, by the way. What, exactly, is the problem between you two?”

Diana swallowed. Maybe she should simply tell Artem what happened three years ago. Surely then he’d forget about parading her all over Park Avenue on Franco’s arm just for the sake of a diamond. Even the biggest diamond in the known universe.

But she couldn’t. She didn’t even want to think about that humiliating episode, much less talk about it.

Especially to her brother, of all people.

“He’s a complete and total man whore. You know that, right?” Wasn’t that reason enough to turn down the opportunity to pretend date him for twenty-one days? “Aren’t you at all concerned about my virtue?”

“The last time I checked, you were more than capable of taking care of yourself, Diana. In fact, you’re one of the strongest women I know. I seriously doubt I need to worry about your virtue.” He shrugged. “But I could have a word with Franco...do the whole brother thing and threaten him with bodily harm if he lays a finger on you. Would that make you feel better?”

“God, no.” She honestly couldn’t fathom anything more mortifying.

“It’s your call.” Artem shrugged. “He’s rehabilitating his image, anyway. Franco Andrade’s man-whore days are behind him.”

Diana laughed. Loud and hard. “He told you that? And you believed him?”

“When did you become such a cynic, sis?”

Three years ago. Right around the time I lost my virginity. “It seems dubious. That’s all I’m saying. Why would he change after all this time, unless he’s already had his way with every woman on the eastern seaboard?”

It was a distinct possibility.

“People change, Diana.” His expression softened and he cast a meaningful glance at the bassinet in the corner of his office. A pink mobile hung over the cradle, decorated with tiny teddy bears wearing ballet shoes. “I did.”

Diana smiled at the thought of her adorable baby niece.

He had a point. Less than a year ago, Artem had been the one on the cover of Page Six. He’d been photographed with a different woman every night. Now he was a candidate for father of the year.

Moreover, Diana had never seen a couple more in love than Artem and Ophelia. It was almost enough to restore her faith in marriage.

But not quite.

It would take more than her two brothers finding marital bliss to erase the memory of their father’s numerous indiscretions.

It wasn’t just the affairs. It was the way he’d made no effort whatsoever to hide them from their mother. He’d expected her to accept it. To smile and look away. And she had.

Right up until the day she died.

She’d been just forty years old when Diana found her lifeless body on the living room floor. Still young, still beautiful. The doctors had been baffled. They’d been unable to find a reason for her sudden heart attack. But to Diana, the reason was obvious.

Her mother had died of a broken heart.

Was it any wonder she thought marriage was a joke? She was beyond screwed up when it came to relationships. How damaged must she have been to intentionally throw herself at a man who was famous for treating women as if they were disposable?

Diana squeezed her eyes shut.

Why did Franco have to come strutting back into her life now, while she was her most vulnerable? Before her accident, she could have handled him. She could have handled anything.

She opened her eyes. “Please, Artem. I just really, really don’t want to do this.”

He nodded. “I see. You’d rather spend all day, every day, slaving away in Engagements than attend a few parties with Franco. Understood. Sorry I brought it up.”

He waved a hand toward the dreaded Engagements showroom down the hall. “Go ahead and get to work.”

Diana didn’t move a muscle. “Wait. Are you saying that if I play the part of Franco’s fake girlfriend by night, I won’t have to peddle engagement rings by day?”

She’d assumed her position in Engagements was still part of the plan. This changed things.

She swallowed. She still couldn’t do it. She’d never last a single evening in Franco’s company, much less twenty-one of them.

Could she?

“Of course you wouldn’t have to do both.” Artem gestured toward the newspapers spread across his desk. “This would be a job, just like any other in the company.”

She narrowed her gaze and steadfastly refused to look at the picture again. “What kind of job involves going to black-tie parties every night?”

“Vice president of public relations. I did it for years. The job is yours now, if you want it.” He smiled. “You asked me to find something else for you to do, remember? Moving from the sales floor to a VP position is a meteoric rise.”

When he put it that way, it didn’t sound so bad. Vice president of public relations sounded pretty darn good, actually.

Finally. This was the kind of opportunity she’d been waiting for. She just never dreamed that Franco Andrade would be part of the package.

“I want a pay increase,” she blurted.

What was she doing?

“Done.” Artem’s grin spread wide.

She wasn’t seriously considering accepting the job though, was she? No. She couldn’t. Wouldn’t. No amount of money was worth her dignity.

But there was one thing that might make participating in the farce worthwhile...

“And if it works, I want to be promoted.” She pasted on her sweetest smile. “Again.”

Artem’s brows rose. “You’re going to have to be more specific. Besides, vice president is pretty high on the food chain around here.”

“I’m aware. But this diamond gala is really important. You said so yourself.”

Artem’s smile faded. Just a bit. “That’s right.”

“If I do my part and Drake Diamonds is chosen as the jewelry house to cut the giant diamond and if everything goes off with a hitch at the Met’s diamond gala, I think I deserve to take Dalton’s place.” She cleared her throat. “I want to be named co-CEO.”

Artem didn’t utter a word at first. He just sat and stared at her as if she’d sprouted another head.

Great. She’d pushed too far.

VP was a massive career leap. She should have jumped at the opportunity to put all the love-struck brides and grooms in the rearview mirror and left it at that.

“That’s a bold request for someone with no business experience,” he finally said.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but wasn’t vice president of public relations the only position you held at Drake Diamonds before our father died and appointed you his successor as CEO?” Did Artem really think she’d been so busy at horse shows that she had no clue what had gone on between these Drake-blue walls the past few years?

Still, what was she saying? He’d never buy into this.

He let out an appreciative laugh. “You’re certainly shrewd enough for the job.”

She grinned. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“As you should.” He sighed, looked at her for a long, loaded moment and nodded. “Okay. It works for me.”

She waited for some indication that he was joking, but it never came.

Her heart hammered hard in her chest. “Don’t tease me, Artem. It’s been kind of a rough day.”

And it was about to get rougher.

If she and Artem had actually come to an agreement, that meant she was going out with Franco Andrade tonight. By choice.

She needed to have her head examined.

“I’m not teasing. You made a valid point. I didn’t know anything about being a CEO when I stepped into the position. I learned. You will, too.” He held up a finger. A warning. “But only if you deliver. Drake Diamonds must be chosen to cut the stone and cosponsor the Met Diamond gala.”

“No problem.” She beamed at him.

For the first time since she’d fallen off her horse, she felt whole. Happy. She was building a new future for herself.

In less than a month, she’d be co-CEO. No more passing out petit fours. No more engagement rings. She’d never have to look at another copy of Bride magazine for as long as she lived!

Better yet, she wouldn’t have to answer any more questions about when she was going to start riding again. Every time she turned around, it seemed someone was asking her about her riding career. Had she gotten a new horse? Was she ready to start showing again?

Diana wasn’t anywhere close to being ready. She wasn’t sure she’d ever be ready.

Co-CEO was a big job. A huge responsibility—huge enough that it just might make people forget she’d once dreamed of going to the Olympics. If she was running the company alongside Artem, no one would expect her to compete anymore. It was the perfect solution.

She just had to get through the next twenty-one days first.

“Go home.” Artem nodded toward his office door. “Rest up and get ready for tonight.”