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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.
