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“Do explain.”
Artem shrugged. Yep, clueless. “I’m no stranger to the tabloids. Believe me, I understand where you’re coming from. But there’s a way to use this kind of exposure and make the most out of it. We’ve managed to get the attention of the world. Our next step is keeping it.”
He already didn’t like the sound of this. “What exactly are you proposing?”
“A press tour. Take the cuff links out for a spin. You make the rounds of the local philanthropy scene—black-tie parties, charity events, that sort of thing—and smile for the cameras.” His gaze flitted to the photo of Franco and Diana. “Alongside my sister, of course.”
“Let me get this straight. You want to pay me to publically date Diana.” No way in hell. He was an athlete, not a gigolo.
“Absolutely not. I want to pay you to make appearances while wearing Drake gemstones. If people happen to assume you and Diana are a couple, so be it.”
Franco narrowed his gaze. “You know they will.”
Artem shrugged. “Let them. Look, I didn’t plan any of this. But we’d all be fools not to take advantage of the buzz. From what I hear, appearing to be in a monogamous relationship could only help your reputation.”
Ah, so the cat was out of the bag, after all.
Franco cursed under his breath. “How long do you expect me to keep up this farce?”
He wasn’t sure why he was asking. It was a completely ludicrous proposition.
Although he supposed there were worse fates than spending time with Diana Drake.
Don’t go there. Not again.
“Twenty-one days,” Artem said.
Franco knew the date by heart already. “The day before the American polo season starts in Bridgehampton. The Kingsmen go on tour right after the season starts.”
“Precisely. And you’ll be going with them. Assuming you’re back on the team by then, obviously.” Artem shrugged. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?”
Franco wondered how Artem had heard about his predicament. He hadn’t thought the news of his termination had spread beyond the polo community. Somehow the fact that it had made it seem more real. Permanent.
And that was unacceptable.
“It’s absolutely what I want,” he said.
“Good. Let us help you fix your reputation.” Artem shrugged as if doing so was just that simple.
Maybe it is. “I don’t understand. What would you be getting out of this proposed arrangement? Are you really this desperate to move your cuff links?”
“Hardly. This is about more than cuff links.” Artem rummaged around the stack of gossip rags on his desk until he found a neatly folded copy of the New York Times. “Much more.”
He slid the paper across the smooth surface of the desk. It didn’t take long for Franco to spot the headline of interest: Jewelry House to be Chosen for World’s Largest Uncut Diamond.
Franco looked up and met Artem’s gaze. “Let me guess. Drake Diamonds wants to cut this diamond.”
“Of course we do. The stone is over one thousand carats. It’s the size of a baseball. Every jewelry house in Manhattan wants to get its hands on it. Once it’s been cut and placed in a setting, the diamond will be unveiled at a gala at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Followed by a featured exhibition open to the public, naturally.”
Franco’s eyes narrowed. “Would the date for this gala possibly be twenty-one days from now?”
“Bingo.” Artem leaned forward in his chair. “It’s the perfect arrangement. You and Diana will keep Drake Diamonds on the front page of every newspaper in New York. The owners of the diamond will see the Drake name everywhere they turn, and they’ll have no choice but to pick us as their partners.”
“I see.” It actually made sense. In a twisted sort of way.
Artem continued, “By the time you and Diana attend the Met’s diamond gala together, you’ll have been in a high-profile relationship for nearly a month. Monogamous. Respectable. You’re certain to get back in the good graces of your team.”
Maybe. Then again, maybe not.
“Plus you’ll be great for the team’s ticket sales. The more famous you are, the more people will line up to see you play. The Kingsmen will be bound to forgive and forget whatever transgression got you fired.” Artem lifted a brow. “What exactly did you do, anyway? You’re the best player on the circuit, so it couldn’t have been related to your performance on the field.”
Franco shrugged. “I didn’t do anything, actually.”
He’d been cut through no fault of his own. Even worse, he’d been unable to defend himself. Telling the lie had been his choice, though. His call. He’d done what he’d needed to do.
It had been a matter of honor. Even if he’d been able to go back in time and erase the past thirty days, he’d still do it all over again.
Make the same choice. Say the same things.
Artem regarded him through narrowed eyes. “Fine. You don’t need to tell me. From now on, you’re a reformed man, anyway. Nothing else matters.”
“Got it.” Franco nodded.
He wasn’t seriously considering this arrangement. It was borderline demeaning, wasn’t it? To both himself and Diana.
Diana Drake.
He could practically hear her breathy, judgmental voice in his ear. From what I hear, you’re used to this kind of thing.
She’d never go along with this charade. She had too much pride. Then again, what did he know about Diana Drake these days?
He cleared his throat. “What happens afterward?”
“Afterward?”
Franco nodded. “Yes, after the gala.”
Artem smiled. “I’m assuming you’ll ride off into the sunset with your team and score a massive amount of goals. You’ll continue to behave professionally and eventually you and Diana will announce a discreet breakup.”
They’d never get away with it. Diana hadn’t even set eyes on Franco or deigned to speak a word to him in the past three years until just a few days ago. No one would seriously believe they were a couple.
He stared down at the heap of newspapers on Artem’s desk.
People already believed it.
“You’ll be compensated for each appearance at the rate we agreed upon under the terms of your modeling contract. You can start tonight.”
“Tonight?”
Artem gave a firm nod. “The Manhattan Pet Rescue animal shelter is holding its annual Fur Ball at the Waldorf Astoria. You and Diana can dress up and cuddle with a few adorable puppies and kittens. Every photographer in town will be there.”
The Fur Ball. It certainly sounded wholesome. Nauseatingly, mind-numbingly adorable.
“I’m assuming we have a deal.” Artem stood.
Franco rose from his seat, but ignored Artem’s outstretched hand. They couldn’t shake on things. Not yet. “You’re forgetting something.”
“What’s that?”
Not what. Who. “Diana. She’ll never agree to this.”
Artem’s gaze grew sharp. Narrow. “What makes you say so?”
Franco had a sudden memory of her exquisite violet eyes, shiny with unshed tears as she slapped him hard across the face. “Trust me. She won’t.”
“Just be ready for the driver to pick you up at eight. I’ll handle Diana.” Artem offered his hand again.
This time, Franco took it.
But even as they shook on the deal, he knew it would never happen. Diana wasn’t the sort of person who could be handled. By anyone. Artem Drake had no idea what he was up against. Franco almost felt sorry for him. Almost, but not quite.
Some things could only be learned the hard way.
Like a slap in the face.
Chapter Four (#u4c667277-027a-5829-a8ab-51cd9bf8153a)
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.
