Читать книгу Claimed - Tracy Wolff - Страница 8

Two

Isa stared at Marc in disbelief. Had he seriously just asked her that? As if they were kids playing a game of double dog dare and it was now her turn to up the ante? Too bad for him that she’d given up childish games the same night she’d walked forty city blocks through sleet and freezing rain without so much as a coat to shield her from the weather. She’d moved past that night, had made a new, better life for herself here under a name no one in the industry could trace to her father. There was no way she would let him mess all that up.

“I don’t have time for this,” she told him with an annoyed snarl. “And while I’d like to say it was nice seeing you again, we both know that I’d be lying. So—” she gave him a mock salute “—have a nice life.”

Turning on her heel, she once again started down the empty hallway. This time she only made it a couple of steps before he wrapped one large, calloused hand around her wrist and tugged her to a stop.

“You don’t actually think it’s going to be that easy, do you?”

His rough fingers stroked the delicate skin at the inside of her wrist. It was a familiar caress, one he’d done so often in their months together that she’d felt his phantom stroking in that exact spot for months—years—after they’d broken up. Even now, with everything that had passed between them, with the power he held to ruin her life all over again, her traitorous heart beat uncontrollably fast at the light touch.

Furious with herself for being so easy—and at him for being so damn appealing—she yanked her arm from his grasp with more force than his gentle hold demanded. She ended up stumbling back a couple steps before she could catch herself, a reaction that just annoyed her more. Why was she constantly making a fool of herself in front of this man?

Infusing her voice with as much frigidness as she could muster, she forced herself to meet his gaze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Those glorious eyes of his mocked her. “Still a good liar, I see.” He reached out and ran a hand over her braid. “Nice to see some things haven’t changed.”

“I never lied to you.”

“But you didn’t tell me the truth, either. Even when doing so would have saved my company and me one hell of a lot of time, money and embarrassment.”

Old guilt swamped her at his words. She tried to push it away, but it was too constant a companion for her to do anything more than invite it in like she always did. Still, she refused to take all the blame in this situation. Not when the tender man she used to know had vanished like so much smoke. “Yes, well, you seemed to have landed on your feet.”

“As have you.” He very deliberately glanced into the classroom she had just vacated. “A professor at the GIA, one of the world’s leading experts on conflict-free diamonds. I have to admit, when you disappeared so completely, I thought you’d decided to follow in your father’s footsteps.”

Isa drew in a sharp breath, horrified that his words still had the ability to hurt her, even after all this time. “I’m not a thief.” She’d meant the words to sound scornful, but her voice broke in the middle of the sentence.

His look darkened and for a second, just a second, she thought he would reach out to her. To touch her like he used to—with so much tenderness that she couldn’t feel anything but cherished. Every nerve ending in her body tingled at the thought and despite his hurtful words—despite everything that had passed between them—she almost melted into him. She had to lock her knees, in fact, to keep from leaning on him as she had so many times before.

But then he cleared his throat and the spell was broken. All the bad memories poured into her, overwhelming the good from one breath to the next. Tears burned behind her eyes, but she refused to shed them. Refused to be so weak in front of him. Besides, she’d already cried all the tears over him she ever would. Their relationship was in the past and she was going to keep it there.

She stepped back and this time he didn’t pursue her. He just watched her with a smirk on his face. She supposed that meant the next move was hers. So be it.

Taking a deep breath, she looked him square in the eyes and did the only thing she knew how to do at this point. She opened herself up and told him the truth. “Look, I know you want your pound of flesh, and God knows, you deserve it. I’m sorry, so, so sorry, for everything my father put you through. But he’s gone now and there’s nothing else I can do to make things right. Can you accept my heartfelt apology and then we can both move on? You teach your class, I’ll teach mine. And the past can stay dead.”

He didn’t move, didn’t so much as blink, but Isa swore she felt him recoil at her words. She waited nervously for him to say something, anything, but as the seconds ticked by and nothing was forthcoming, she grew more and more nervous. To be watched by Marc Durand was to be watched by a hungry predator, one whose teeth and claws, speed and intellect, gave him an advantage over every other species on the savannah. Or the beach, she admitted ruefully, looking out at the ocean through the windows at the end of the hall.

She shifted under his scrutiny, uncomfortably aware that the last time he’d spent this much time looking at her she’d been naked and begging for him to make love to her. And while sleeping with him was the farthest thing from her mind right now, her traitorous body still remembered all the pleasure he’d brought her. Pleasure she had never seen the likes of before or since.

Her nipples hardened at the thought and her cheeks burned in humiliation. He hated her, was disgusted by her very presence. She’d spent six years in a new life, trying to forget him. And still she couldn’t help fantasizing about what it felt like to be in his arms. Marc was an incredible lover—passionate, unselfish, fun—and the months she’d spent with him had been the best of her life.

But they’d been followed by the worst, lowest months, she reminded herself bitterly. She needed to remember that. Just because her body was still attuned to him, still wanted him, didn’t mean the rest of her did. Sexual chemistry had only gotten them so far, after all.

He still hadn’t said anything and the sensually charged silence between them grew more and more uncomfortable—at least on her part.

Isa squared her shoulders, cleared her throat and said, “I really am late. I need to go.”

She hated that it sounded like she was asking his permission, but the connection that had sprung up between them was such that she wasn’t sure she’d be able to walk away if he didn’t do something to help her sever it.

“There’s a cocktail party tonight,” he said abruptly. “In the gem gallery.”

Surprised by the bizarre change in subject, she nonetheless nodded. “Yes. It’s the spring faculty mixer.”

“Go with me.”

Isa shook her head, certain she must have heard him wrong. Marc couldn’t possibly have asked her to attend the faculty cocktail party as his date? Why would he? Unless he planned to humiliate her there in front of all her colleagues.

The Marc she used to know, the one she’d been hopelessly in love with, would never do anything like that. But she hadn’t seen that man in six long years and this one—hard, angry, uncompromising—looked like he was capable of anything. She wanted no part of him, no matter what her pleasure-starved body said.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?” It was obvious he didn’t like her answer.

“I already have a date.” The words poured from her lips before she had a clue she was going to say them. And while they weren’t a lie, they weren’t strictly the truth, either. She and Gideon, another professor, had made plans to go together weeks ago. They were just friends, though, and she knew Gideon wouldn’t mind if she canceled on him.

But she would mind. She could barely stand the fifteen-minute conversation she and Marc were having in the hall. She couldn’t even imagine what would happen to her—or the new identity she’d worked so hard for—if she spent an entire evening in his company. If she gave in to the attraction that still flared between them. Besides, she might be insane enough to still be attracted to him, but her days of being his whipping girl were long over. She was nobody’s masochist.

“Who is he?” The words grated out from between his clenched teeth.

“Gideon. No one you know. But maybe I’ll see you there.”

She forced a smile she was far from feeling. She even gave a little wave before she started down the corridor for the third time in the past twenty minutes. This time he let her go.

By the time she opened the side door and stepped into the early spring sunlight, she’d almost convinced herself she was happy about that fact.

* * *

“Who pissed in your cornflakes?” Nic demanded.

Marc looked up from his computer with a scowl. Per his usual modus operandi at Bijoux’s new California headquarters, his little brother had barged unannounced into Marc’s office. Normally Marc didn’t mind, but right now, just hours after that conversation with Isa, dealing with Nic was the last thing he wanted to do. Not when his brother was unusually perceptive—not to mention his wicked and slightly strange sense of humor. It was a dangerous combination, one that usually required Marc to be on his toes if he had any hope of staying one step ahead. And today, he didn’t have it in him to even try.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you do. Look at your face.”

“That’s pretty much impossible considering there’s no mirror in here.”

“Why, oh why, did I get stuck with a brother with absolutely no imagination?” Nic demanded, looking upward as he did—as if he expected the universe to answer his question. Frankly, Marc thought Nic had a better chance of finding the answer written on the ceiling than waiting for divine intervention, but he didn’t mention that. It would only give Nic more ammunition.

Instead, Marc answered the question. “So that you’d look like the fun brother.”

“It was a rhetorical question. Besides, I don’t have to look like the fun brother. I am the fun brother,” Nic told him with a roll of his eyes. “But, fine. You can’t see your face. I can. And let me tell you, you look like someone...” He paused as if searching for the perfect descriptor.

“Pissed in my cornflakes?”

“Exactly. So what’s up? More trouble with De Beers?”

“No more than usual.”

“The new mine?”

“Nope. I just heard back from Heath and things are going well. Despite it being brand-new, we should be turning a very tidy profit by the fall.”

“See? Who says you can’t make money and responsibly source diamonds?”

“Greedy bastards with no heart or social conscience?”

Nic snorted. “Again, it was a rhetorical question. But good answer, anyway.”

“That’s why I get paid the big bucks.”

Marc turned back to his computer, tried to concentrate on the spreadsheet that was open on the screen. Normally, this stuff was like catnip to him, but today looking at the production values of the various mines was nothing but an annoyance. Especially when he couldn’t stop thinking about Isa—and the mystery man who was escorting her to the cocktail party. Was he a friend? A boyfriend? A lover? The last thought had his hands curling into fists and his teeth clenching so tightly that he could almost feel the enamel being ground away.

“See, there!” Nic said. “That’s the look I’m talking about.”

“Again, can’t see it.”

“Again, I can, so tell me what’s causing it. If we’re not losing money and we’re not yet in our annual power struggle with De Beers, then what the hell has you so freaked out?”

Marc glared at him, offended. “I don’t get freaked out.”

“Well, you sure aren’t freaked in.” Nic crossed to the bar in the corner, pulled a couple of sodas out of the fridge and tossed one Marc’s way.

“What the hell does that even mean?”

“It means I’m going to keep bugging you until you tell me what’s wrong, so you might as well spit it out. Otherwise, you’ll never get back to that spreadsheet of yours.”

“What makes you think I’m looking at a spreadsheet?”

“Face it. You’re always looking at a spreadsheet.” Nic settled back into one of the visitors’ chairs and kicked his feet up onto Marc’s desk. “Spill.”

Marc pretended to focus on his computer screen, but Nic didn’t get the hint. Or if he did, he totally ignored it. Silence stretched between them, broken only by Nic’s occasional swallow and the low, clicking sounds that came from Marc’s gritted teeth. Finally, in the hopes of saving himself a hefty dental bill, Marc did what his brother asked and spilled.

“I ran into Isa today.”

Nic’s feet hit the ground with a thud as he sat straight up. “Isa Varin?”

“Isabella Moreno now.”

“She’s married?” He whistled low and long. “No wonder you’re in a foul mood.”

“She’s not married!” Marc snapped out. “But even if she was, it’s no business of mine.”

“Oh, certainly not,” Nic mocked. “You’ve just spent the last six years dating every redhead you could find in a ridiculous attempt to replace her. But her marital status is none of your business.”

“I’ve never—” He broke off midrant. He wanted to tell his brother that he was dead wrong, that Marc hadn’t done anything of the sort. But as he thought back over the last few women he’d dated, Marc realized that Nic might have a point.

He’d never noticed before but all the women in his life were redheads. Tall, slender redheads with delicate bones and great smiles. Hell. Had he subconsciously been trying to find a replacement for Isa all these years? He’d never thought so, but the evidence was hard to ignore. Damn it.

“So, why the name change if she isn’t married?”

He didn’t know, but he was going to damn sure find out. Still, he told his brother what she’d told him. “She said she wanted to start over.”

Nic made a sympathetic noise. “I bet.”

He didn’t like Nic’s tone. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What do you think it means? Things didn’t exactly end well between you. I know when you kicked her out, it was what you felt you had to do.”

“It was what I had to do! Do you really think there was another option?” Marc waved the question away before Nic could answer it—they’d been over this ground hundreds of times since that night. “Still. I’ve paid a hell of a lot of money to private investigators through the years. You would think one of them would have turned up this name change.”

“Not if she didn’t do it legally.”

“It’d have to be legal. She’s employed under the name.”

“Have you forgotten who her father is? With the kind of contacts he had, she could buy herself a whole new identity without breaking a sweat.”

“Isa wouldn’t do that.” But even as the words left his mouth, Marc wasn’t so sure. What his brother was saying made a lot of sense. After all, she’d lied before. Stolen before. How else could the daughter of a world famous jewel thief—a woman who had been a thief in her own right—end up teaching at the world headquarters of the Gemological Institute of America—even if she was one of the best in her field? Working there, she had access to some of the finest gems in the world—they rotated through the institute on loan on a pretty regular basis, after all.

And while she might not be a thief, her father’s reputation would be more than enough to keep the doors at GIA firmly closed to her. Unless she had done exactly what his brother surmised. Because if she’d changed her name legally, there was no doubt that the detectives Marc had hired to look for her in those first couple of years would have caught it.

“So, how’s she doing anyway?” Nic broke into Marc’s musings. “Is she okay?”

“She’s fine.” Better than fine. She’d looked amazing—healthy, happy, glowing even. At least until she’d seen him. Then the light inside her had died.

“I’m glad. Despite the debacle with her father—and despite what happened between the two of you—I always liked her.”

So had he. So much so that Marc had asked her to be his wife, despite his determination before he’d met her to never marry. It wasn’t as if his parents had set such a great example for him and Nic in that department.

“So, did you ask her out?”

“Did I—? Are you kidding me? Aren’t you the one who was just reminding me how badly things ended between us?”

“You were a bit of an ass, no getting around that. But Isa has a big heart. I bet she’ll forgive you—”

“I’m not the one who needs forgiveness in this equation. She nearly ruined all our plans for Bijoux!”

“Her father nearly ruined all our plans, not her.”

“She knew about everything.”

“Yeah, but what was she supposed to say? ‘By the way, honey, that diamond heist you’re so worked up about? The one that might bankrupt your business? I think my daddy did it.”

“That would have been nice. So that I didn’t have to hear about it from the head of our security team.”

“Cut her a break. She was twenty-one years old and probably scared to death.”

Marc frowned at him. “You’re pretty damn understanding all of a sudden. If I remember correctly, you were calling for her head when everything was going down.”

“Her father’s head,” Nic corrected. “I thought he should fry for what he did, but you were the one who refused to press charges. And who pulled every string you could to get him out of trouble. Hell, you’re still paying back favors from that whole debacle.”

Nic was right. Marc was—and the favors were often uncomfortable ones. More than once, he’d wondered what the hell he’d been thinking. Why had he worked so hard to keep Isa’s father out of prison after what the man had done? But then he’d seen her face in his mind’s eye—pale, drawn, terrified—and known that he hadn’t had a choice.

Getting up, Marc crossed to one of the two picture windows that formed the outside walls of his corner office. Beyond the glass, he had a gorgeous view of the Pacific Ocean as it crashed against the rocky shoreline. He studied it for long seconds, letting the roll of powerful waves calm some of the annoyance—and confusion—inside of him. Moving Bijoux’s North American headquarters to San Diego six months ago was one of his smarter moves. He’d done it because of the proximity to the world headquarters of GIA, but access to the ocean was a very nice side benefit.

“He was a sick, old man. Salvatore was dead before the year was out, anyway. He didn’t need to spend the last couple months of his life in a cell.”

“You did that for Isa, and because underneath that crusty exterior you’ve actually got a soft heart—”

“Crusty? You make me sound like I’m ninety!”

“You said it, I didn’t.” Nic’s smartphone alarm went off and he sprung to his feet. “I’ve got to go. There’s a marketing meeting starting in five minutes that I want to sit in on.”

“Everything going okay with the new campaign?” Marc asked. He was the CEO of Bijoux, the guy who handled all the business stuff—governmental contracts, mining, employees, distribution. But his brother was the creative genius in the family. He handled marketing, public relations and sales. Anything that had to do with Bijoux’s public image. And he did it brilliantly, something Marc appreciated because it gave him time to concentrate on what he loved best—growing his family’s gem company into the largest socially and environmentally responsible diamond company in the business.

“It’s going great,” Nic said dismissively. “I just like to be at all the meetings to hear the ideas, see what’s going around. Get a sense of the zeitgeist, I guess you could say.”

“And they call me the control freak in the family?”

“Because you are. While I am merely conscientious.” Nic crumpled up his empty soda can and shot it toward the recycle bin in the back corner of Marc’s office. “Yeah, baby, nothing but net.”

Marc bit his tongue to keep from telling Nic that there was no net. God forbid he get another lecture on not being the “fun” brother.

Nic made his way toward the exit, then stopped at the doorway and turned back to Marc.

“Seriously, bro. Fate’s given you another chance with Isa. You should take it.”

“I don’t believe in fate. And I don’t want another chance with her.”

“You sure about that?”

“Positive.” After everything that had gone down between them? The last thing he wanted was to give Isa another shot at screwing up his business...or his heart.

Did he want to sleep with her again? Hell, yeah. What man wouldn’t? She was beautiful when she was aroused. Not to mention sexy as hell—especially when she screamed his name while she came. Being with her had been the best sex he’d ever had.

Then again, she’d always been more the type to make love than have sex. He’d loved that about her when they’d been together. Now, however, it was nothing but a pain in his ass—not to mention other, more notable parts of his anatomy. He didn’t do the whole tenderness thing anymore.

“Well, then, forget about her,” Nic told him practically. “The past is dead. You’ve both moved on. Keep it that way.”

“I intend to.”

And yet, Marc couldn’t help thinking about Isa—and about her date to the party that night. Gideon. Just the name set his teeth on edge. What kind of name was Gideon, anyway? Who the hell was he? And what the hell did he want with Isa?

An image of her standing in front of her classroom flashed through Marc’s mind. Her eyes alight with the thrill of talking about her favorite subject, her skin flushed and glowing. Her miles of red hair locked down in that ridiculous braid, her gorgeous body hidden, and yet revealed, by the tailored pants and turtleneck sweater she’d been wearing.

When he’d known her, she’d been all warm, sweet passion—for life, for gems, for him. Now she was a contradiction, a bunch of stopping-and-going that, combined, made for an even more intriguing woman. One that he couldn’t help wanting despite his anger, and her betrayal.

No, Isa hadn’t been eager to renew their acquaintance that afternoon. But he’d seen the way she looked at him, the way she swayed toward him when he touched her. Maybe getting her into bed again wouldn’t be nearly as challenging as it once had been. The thought made him smile. Because once he got her there, he would take her—over and over and over again. Every way a man could take a woman.

He’d get her out of his system once and then, finally, he’d be able to put her—and all their unfinished business—behind him once and for all.