Читать книгу It Started With A Diamond - Teri Wilson, Teri Wilson - Страница 8

Chapter One

“It’s hard to be a diamond in a rhinestone world.”

—Dolly Parton

Diana Drake wasn’t sure about much in her life at the moment, but one thing was crystal clear—she wanted to strangle her brother.

Not her older brother, Dalton. She couldn’t really muster up any indignation as far as her elder sibling went, despite the fact that she was convinced he was at least partially responsible for her current predicament.

But Dalton got a free pass. For now.

She owed him.

For one thing, she’d been living rent free in his swanky Lenox Hill apartment for the past several months. For another, he was a prince now. A literal Prince Charming. As such, he wasn’t even in New York anymore. He was somewhere on the French Riviera polishing his crown or sitting on a throne or doing whatever it was princes did all day long.

Dalton’s absence meant that Diana’s younger brother, Artem, was the only Drake around to take the full brunt of her frustration. Which was a tad problematic since he was her boss now.

Technically.

Sort of.

But Diana would just have to overlook that minor point. She’d held her tongue for as long as humanly possible.

“I can’t do it anymore,” she blurted as she marched into his massive office on the tenth floor of Drake Diamonds, the legendary jewelry store situated on the corner of 5th Avenue and 57th Street, right in the glittering center of Manhattan. The family business.

Diana might not have spent every waking hour of her life surrounded by diamonds and fancy blue boxes tied with white satin bows, as Dalton had. And she might not be the chief executive officer, like Artem. But the last time she checked, she was still a member of the family. She was a Drake, just like the rest of them.

So was it really necessary to suffer the humiliation of working as a salesperson in the most dreaded section of the store?

“Engagements? Really?” She crossed her arms and glared at Artem. It was still weird seeing him sitting behind what used to be their father’s desk. Gaston Drake had been dead for a nearly a year, yet his presence loomed large.

Too large. It was almost suffocating.

“Good morning to you, too, Diana.” Artem smoothed down his tie, which was the exact same hue as the store’s trademark blue boxes. Drake blue.

Could he have the decency to look at least a little bit bothered by her outburst?

Apparently not.

She sighed. “I can’t do it, Artem. I’ll work anywhere in this building, except there.” She waved a hand in the direction of the Engagements showroom down the hall.

He stared blithely at her, then made a big show of looking at his watch. “I see your point. It’s been all of three hours. However have you lasted this long?”

“Three torturous hours.” She let out another massive sigh. “Have you ever set foot in that place?”

“I’m the CEO, so, yes, I venture over there from time to time.”

Right. Of course he had.

Still, she doubted he’d actually helped any engaged couples choose their wedding rings. At least, she hoped he hadn’t, mainly because she wouldn’t have wished such a fate on her worst enemy.

This morning she’d actually witnessed a grown man and woman speaking baby talk to each other. Her stomach churned just thinking about it now. Adults had no business speaking baby talk, not even to actual babies.

Her gaze shifted briefly to the bassinet in the corner of her brother’s office. She still couldn’t quite believe Artem was a dad now. A husband. It was kind of mind-boggling when she thought about it, especially considering what an abysmally poor role model their father had been in the family department.

Keep it professional.

She wouldn’t get anywhere approaching Artem as a sibling. This conversation was about business, plain and simple. Removing herself from Engagements was the best thing Diana could do, not just for herself, but also for Drake Diamonds.

Only half an hour ago, she’d had to bite her tongue when a man asked for advice about choosing an engagement ring and she’d very nearly told him to spend his money on something more sensible than a huge diamond when the chances that he and his girlfriend would live happily ever after were slim to none. If she accepted his proposal, they only had about an eighty percent chance of making it down the aisle. Beyond that, their odds of staying married were about fifty-fifty. Even if they remained husband and wife until death did them part, could they reasonably expect to be happy? Was anyone happily married?

Diana’s own mother had stuck faithfully by her husband’s side after she found out he’d fathered a child with their housekeeper, even when she ended up raising the boy herself. Surely that didn’t count as a happy marriage.

That boy was now a man and currently seated across the desk from Diana. She’d grown up alongside Artem and couldn’t possibly love him more. He was her brother. Case closed.

Diana’s problem wasn’t with Artem. It was with her father and the concept of marriage as a whole. She didn’t like what relationships did to people...

Especially what one had done to her mother.

Even if she’d grown up in a picture-perfect model family, Diana doubted she’d ever see spending three months’ salary on an engagement ring as anything but utter foolishness.

It was a matter of logic, pure and simple. Of statistics. And statistics said that plunking down $40,000 for a two-carat Drake Diamonds solitaire was like throwing a giant wad of cash right into the Hudson River.

But she had no business saying such things out loud since she worked in Engagements, now, did she? She had no business saying such things, period. Drake Diamonds had supported her for her entire life.

So she’d bitten her tongue. Hard.

“I’m simply saying that my talents would be best put to use someplace else.” Anyplace else.

“Would they now?” Artem narrowed his gaze at her. A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and she knew what was coming. “And what talents would those be, exactly?”

And there it was.

“Don’t start.” She had no desire to talk about her accident again. Or ever, for that matter. She’d moved on.

Artem held up his hands in a gesture of faux surrender. “I didn’t say a word about your training. I’m simply pointing out that you have no work experience. Or college education, for that matter. I hate to say it, sis, but your options are limited.”

She’d considered enrolling in classes at NYU, but didn’t bother mentioning it. Her degree wasn’t going to materialize overnight. Unfortunately. College had always been on her radar, but between training and competing, she hadn’t found the time. Now she was a twenty-six-year-old without a single day of higher education under her belt.

If only she’d spent a little less time on the back of a horse for the past ten years and a few more hours in the classroom...

She cleared her throat. “Do I need to remind you that I own a third of this business? You and Dalton aren’t the only Drakes around here, you know.”

“No, but we’re the only ones who’ve actually worked here before today.” He glanced at his watch again, stood and buttoned his suit jacket. “Look, just stick it out for a while. Once you’ve learned the ropes, we’ll try and find another role for you. Okay?”

Awhile.

Just how long was that, she wondered. A week? A month? A year? She desperately wanted to ask, but she didn’t dare. She hated sounding whiny, and she really hated relying on the dreadful Drake name. But it just so happened that name was the only thing she had going for her at the moment.

Oh, how the mighty had fallen. Literally.

“Come on.” Artem brushed past her. “We’ve got a photo shoot scheduled this afternoon in Engagements. I think you might find it rather interesting.”

She was glad to be walking behind him so he couldn’t see her massive eyeroll. “Please tell me it doesn’t involve a wedding dress.”

“Relax, sister dear. We’re shooting cuff links. The photographer only wanted to use the Engagements showroom because it has the best view of Manhattan in the building.”

It did have a lovely view, especially now that spring had arrived in New York in all its fragrant splendor. The air was filled with cherry blossoms, swirling like pink snow flurries. Diana had lost herself a time or two staring out at the verdant landscape of Central Park.

But those few blissful moments had come to a crashing end the moment she’d turned away from the showroom’s floor-to-ceiling windows and remembered she was surrounded by diamonds. Wedding diamonds.

And here I am again.

She blinked against the dazzling assault of countless engagement rings sparkling beneath the sales floor lights and followed Artem to the corner of the room where the photographer was busy setting up a pair of tall light stands. A row of camera lenses in different sizes sat on top of one of glass jewelry cases.

Diana slid a velvet jeweler’s pad beneath the lenses to protect the glass and busied herself rearranging things. Maybe if she somehow inserted herself into this whole photo-shoot process, she could avoid being a part of anyone’s betrothal for an hour or two.

A girl can dream.

“Is our model here?” the photographer asked. “Because I’m ready, and we’ve only got about an hour left until sundown. I’d like to capture some of this nice view before it’s too late.”

Diana glanced out the window. The sky was already tinged pale violet, and the evening wind had picked up, scattering pink petals up and down 5th Avenue. The sun was just beginning to dip below the skyscrapers. It would be a gorgeous backdrop...

...if the model showed up.

Artem checked his watch again and frowned in the direction of the door. Diana took her time polishing the half-dozen pairs of Drake cuff links he’d pulled for the shoot. Anything to stretch out the minutes.

Just as she reached for the last pair, Artem let out a sigh of relief. “Ah, he’s here.”

Diana glanced up, took one look at the man stalking toward them and froze. Was she hallucinating? Had the blow to the head she’d taken months ago done more damage than the doctors had thought?

Nothing is wrong with you. You’re fine. Everything is fine.

Everything didn’t feel fine, though. Diana’s whole world had come apart, and months later she still hadn’t managed to put it back together. She was beginning to think she never would.

Because, deep down, she knew she wouldn’t. She couldn’t pick up the pieces, even if she tried. No one could.

Which was precisely why she was cutting her losses and starting over again. She’d simply build a new life for herself. A normal life. Quiet. Safe. It would take some getting used to, but she could do it.

People started over all the time, didn’t they?

At least she had a job. An apartment. A family. There were worse things in the world than being a Drake.

She was making a fresh start. She was a jeweler now. Her past was ancient history.

Except for the nagging fact that a certain man from her past was walking toward her. Here, now, in the very real present.

Franco Andrade.

Not him. Just...no.

She needed to leave. Maybe she could just slink over to one of the sales counters and get back to her champagne-sipping brides and grooms to be. Selling engagement rings had never seemed as appealing as it did right this second.

She laid her polishing cloth on the counter, but before she could place the cuff links back inside their neat blue box, one of them slipped right through her fingers. She watched in horror as it bounced off the tip of Artem’s shoe and rolled across the plush Drake-blue carpet, straight toward Franco’s approaching form.

Diana sighed. This is what she got for complaining to Artem. Just because she was an heiress didn’t mean she had to act like one. Being entitled wasn’t an admirable quality. Besides, karma was a raging bitch. One who didn’t waste any time, apparently.

Diana dropped to her knees and scrambled after the runaway cuff link, wishing the floor would somehow open up and swallow her whole. Evidently, there were indeed fates worse than helping men choose engagement rings.

“Mr. Andrade, we meet at last.” Artem deftly sidestepped her and extended a hand toward Franco.

Mr. Andrade.

So it was him. She’d still been holding out the tiniest bit of hope for a hallucination. Or possibly a doppelganger. But that was an absurd notion. Men as handsome as Franco Andrade didn’t roam the Earth in pairs. His kind of chiseled bone structure was a rarity, something that only came around once in a blue moon. Like a unicorn. Or a fiery asteroid hurtling toward Earth, promising mass destruction on impact.

One of those two things. The second, if the rumors of his conquests were to be believed.

Who was she kidding? She didn’t need to rely on rumors. She knew firsthand what kind of man Franco Andrade was. It was etched in her memory with excruciating clarity. What she didn’t know was what he was doing here.

Was he the model for the new campaign? Impossible.

It had to be some kind of joke. Or possibly Artem’s wholly inappropriate attempt to manipulate her back into her old life.

Either way, for the second time in a matter of hours, she wanted to strangle her brother. He was the one who’d invited Franco here, after all. Perhaps joining the family business hadn’t been her most stellar idea.

As if she had any other options.

She pushed Artem’s reminders of her inadequate education and employment record out of her head and concentrated on the mortifying matter at hand. Where was that darn cuff link, anyway?

“Gotcha,” she whispered under her breath as she caught sight of a silver flash out of the corner of her eye.

But just as she reached for it, Franco Andrade’s ridiculously masculine form crouched into view. “Allow me.”

His words sent a tingle skittering through her. Had his voice always been so deliciously low? The man could recite the alphabet and bring women to their knees. Which would have made the fact that she was already in just such a position convenient, had it not been so utterly humiliating.

“Here.” He held out his hand. The cuff link sat nestled in the center of his palm. He had large hands, rough with calluses, a stark contrast to the finely tailored fit of his custom tuxedo.

Of course that tuxedo happened to be missing a tie, and his shirt cuffs weren’t even fastened. He looked as if he’d just rolled out of someone’s bed and tossed on his discarded Armani from the night before.

Then again, he most likely had.

“Thank you,” she mumbled, steadfastly refusing to meet his gaze.

“Wait.” He balled his fist around the cuff link and stooped lower to peer at her. “Do we know each other?”

“Nope.” She shook her head so hard she could practically hear her brain rattle. “No, I’m afraid we don’t.”

“I think we might,” he countered, stubbornly refusing to hand over the cuff link.

Fine. Let him keep it. She had better things to do, like help lovebirds snap selfies while trying on rings. Anything to extricate herself from the current situation.

She flew to her feet. “Everything seems in order here. I’ll just be going...”

“Diana, wait.” Artem was using his CEO voice. Marvelous.

She obediently stayed put, lest he rethink his promise and banish her to an eternity of working in Engagements.

Franco took his time unfolding himself to a standing position, as if everyone was happy to wait for him, the Manhattan sunset included.

“Mr. Andrade, I’m Artem Drake, CEO of Drake Diamonds.” Artem gestured toward Diana. “And this is my sister, Diana Drake.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said tightly and crossed her arms.

Artem shot her a reproachful glare. With no small amount of reluctance, she pasted on a smile and offered her hand for a shake.

Franco’s gaze dropped to her outstretched fingertips. He waited a beat until her cheeks flared with heat, then dropped the cuff link into her palm without touching her.

“El gusto es mio,” he said with just a hint of an Argentine accent.

The pleasure is mine.

A rebellious shiver ran down Diana’s spine.

That shiver didn’t mean anything. Of course it didn’t. He was a beautiful man, that was all. It was only natural for her body to respond to that kind of physical perfection, even though her head knew better than to pay any attention to his broad shoulders and dark, glittering eyes.

She swallowed. Overwhelming character flaws aside, Franco Andrade had always been devastatingly handsome...emphasis on devastating.

It was hardly fair. But life wasn’t always fair, was it? No, it most definitely wasn’t. Lately, it had been downright cruel.

Diana’s throat grew thick. She had difficulty swallowing all of a sudden. Then, somewhere amid the sudden fog in her head, she became aware of Artem clearing his throat.

“Shall we get started? I believe we’re chasing the light.” He introduced Franco to the photographer, who practically swooned on the spot when he turned his gaze on her.

Diana suppressed a gag and did her best to blend into the Drake-blue walls.

Apparently, any and all attempts at disappearing proved futile. As she tried to make an escape, Artem motioned her back. “Diana, join us please.”

She forced her lips into something resembling a smile and strode toward the window where the photographer was getting Franco into position with a wholly unnecessary amount of hands-on attention. The woman with the camera had clearly forgiven him for his tardiness. It figured.

Diana turned her back on the nauseating scene and raised an eyebrow at Artem, who was tapping away on his iPhone. “You needed me?”

He looked up from his cell. “Yes. Can you get Mr. Andrade fitted with some cuff links?”

She stared blankly at him. “Um, me?”

“Yes, you.” He shrugged. “What’s with the attitude? I thought you’d be pleased. I’m talking to the same person who just stormed into my office demanding a different job than working in Engagements, right?”

She swallowed. “Yes. Yes, of course.”

She longed to return to her dreadful post, but if she did, Artem would never take her seriously. Not after everything she’d said earlier.

“Cuff links.” She nodded. “I’m on it.”

She could do this. She absolutely could. She was Diana Drake, for crying out loud. She had a reputation all over the world for being fearless.

At least, that’s what people used to say about her. Not so much anymore.

Just do it and get it over with. You’ll never see him again after today. Those days are over.

She squared her shoulders, grabbed a pair of cuff links and marched toward the corner of the room that had been roped off for the photo shoot, all the while fantasizing about the day when she’d be the one in charge of this place. Or at least not at the very bottom of the food chain.

Franco leaned languidly against the window while the photographer tousled his dark hair, ostensibly for styling purposes.

“Excuse me.” Diana held up the cuff links—18-carat white-gold knots covered in black pavé diamonds worth more than half the engagement rings in the room. “I’ve got the jewels.”

“Excellent,” the photographer chirped. “I’ll grab the camera and we’ll be good to go.”

She ran her hand through Franco’s hair one final time before sauntering away.

If Franco noticed the sudden, exaggerated swing in her hips, he didn’t let it show. He fixed his gaze pointedly at Diana. “You’ve come to dress me?”

“No.” Her face went instantly hot. Again. “I mean, yes. Sort of.”

The corner of his mouth tugged into a provocative grin and he offered her his wrists.

She reached for one of his shirt cuffs, and her mortification reached new heights when she realized her hands were shaking.

Will this day ever end?

“Be still, mi cielo,” he whispered, barely loud enough for her to hear.

Mi cielo.

She knew the meaning of those words because he’d whispered them to her before. Back then, she’d clung to them as if they’d meant something.

Mi cielo. My heaven.

They hadn’t, though. They’d meant nothing to him.

Neither had she.

“I’m not yours, Mr. Andrade. Never have been, never will be.” She glared at him, jammed the second cuff link into his shirt with a little too much force and dropped his wrist. “We’re finished here.”

Why did she have the sinking feeling that she might be lying?