It Started With A Diamond
- -
- 100%
- +
Franco’s missing tie and the unbuttoned collar of his tuxedo shirt didn’t help matters. Neither did her flushed cheeks and slightly parted lips.
This wasn’t an advertisement for cuff links. It looked more like an ad for sex. If she hadn’t known better, Diana would have thought the couple in the photograph was just a heartbeat away from falling into bed together.
And she and Franco Andrade were that couple.
What have I done?
* * *
Franco was trying his level best not pummel Artem Drake.
But it was hard. Really hard.
“I didn’t sign up for this.” He wadded the flimsy newsprint of Page Six in his hands and threw it at Artem, who was seated across from Franco in the confines of his Drake-blue office. “Selling cuff links, yes. Selling sex, no.”
Artem had the decency to flinch at the mention of sex, but Franco was guessing that was mostly out of a brotherly sense of propriety. After all, his sister was the one who looked as though Franco was seducing her on the cover of every tabloid in the western hemisphere.
From what Franco had heard, there was even a billboard smack in the middle of Times Square. His phone had been blowing up with texts and calls all morning. Regrettably, not a single one of those texts or calls had included an offer to return to the Kingsmen.
“Mr. Andrade, please calm down.” Artem waved a hand at the generous stack of newspapers fanned across the surface of his desk. “The new campaign was unveiled just hours ago, and it’s already a huge success. I’ve made you famous. You’re a household name. People who’ve never seen a polo match in their lives know who you are. This is what you wanted, is it not?”
Yes...
And no.
He’d wanted to get Jack Ellis’s attention. To force his hand. Just not like this.
But he couldn’t explain the details of his reinvention to Artem Drake. His new “employer” didn’t even know he’d been cut from the team. To Franco’s knowledge, no one did. And if he had anything to say about it, no one would. Because he’d be back in his jersey before the first game of the season in Bridgehampton.
That was the plan, anyway.
He stared at the pile of tabloids on Artem’s desk. Weeks of clean living and celibacy had just been flushed straight down the drain. More importantly, so had his one shot at getting his life back.
He glared at Artem. “Surely you can’t be happy about the fact that everyone in the city thinks I’m sleeping with your sister.”
A subtle tension in the set of Artem’s jaw was the only crack in his composure. “She’s a grown woman, not a child.”
“So I’ve noticed.” It was impossible not to.
A lot could happen in three years. She’d been young when she’d shared Franco’s bed. Naive. Blissfully so. If he’d realized how innocent she was, he never would have touched her.
But all that was water under the bridge.
Just like Franco’s career.
“Besides, this—” Artem gestured toward the pile of newspapers “—isn’t real. It’s an illusion. One that’s advantageous to both of us.”
This guy was unbelievable. And he was clearly unaware that Franco and Diana shared a past. Which was probably for the best, given the circumstances.
Franco couldn’t help but be intrigued by what he was saying, though. Advantageous to both of us...
“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
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.