Diamonds are Forever: A Diamond Magnate Novel (Diamonds are Forever Trilogy Book 3)

by Charmaine Pauls

  I pull the covers away. “Come on, cherie. A bath will do you good.”

  She turns on her other side, facing away from me. “Go back to your champagne and your hotel. I don’t need anything from you.”

  Fucking Fran. Letting Zoe believe the worst was a low blow. I’ll deal with her later. “Let me help you, Zoe.”

  “I don’t need anyone’s help. I’ll be fine.”

  No, she won’t be fine. Not for a while. She definitely needs help. Unfortunately, I’m all she’s got. She has no one else. Another fault of mine for isolating her when I first brought her to France. Of course I also ensured no one in the fashion design school she attended befriended her when I forced them into enrolling her.

  “The water’s cool,” I say. “It’ll help break your fever.”

  Enough. I’m not arguing with her any longer. She’s obstinate because her feelings are hurt, but I know what’s best for her. She doesn’t have enough strength to fight me when I scoop her up and carry her to the bathroom. An overwhelming sense of protectiveness invades every instinct I possess. She weighs nothing. She’s so small and fragile it scares me. Nothing can ever happen to her. I won’t survive it. She’s weak enough that I have to prop her up in the chair to undress her.

  “Don’t,” she says, gripping her pajama top together when I try to unbutton it.

  I move her hand away. “There’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

  The blue color of her eyes looks paler with the dark rings marring them. The adorable freckles on her nose stand out against the unhealthy white of her skin.

  “I hate you.”

  “Maybe one day you won’t.” A man can only hope.

  I must be a sick pervert, because my body reacts when I pull the pajamas off Zoe’s body. Fuck, fuck, fuck. She’s naked underneath. No underwear. I’ve missed her full breasts and that womanly triangle of hair between her legs. I’ve missed the smell of roses in her hair. I miss her laugh so much it’s like a gaping hole in my chest. My feelings and lack of control may not make sense, but what does is that I can’t live without her. Without her presence, I can’t breathe. I can’t sleep. Even eating is nothing but a mechanical act.

  Before she notices the hard-on straining in my pants, I lower her in the water and make sure I trail her hair over the edge so I don’t get it wet. Like that night after I took her virginity—after I all but tricked her into giving it to me—I go down on my knees and serve her. I take care of her like she deserves, washing the sweat from her fever-hot body. Knowing her skin will hurt to the touch, I’m as gentle as I can be. I’m aching to drag my knuckles over the tips of her breasts and test the heat between her thighs, but this isn’t the moment to indulge in my dirty fantasies.

  After a few minutes, her lips start to chatter as her fever breaks. I make quick work of lifting her out of the water and patting her dry. I dress her in a clean pair of pajamas and make her lie on the sofa, then cover her with a blanket.

  I build a fire. When the flames burn high, I strip the bed and put clean linen on. I check the temperature in the room and the living area to make sure it’s at a comfortable setting before making her a bowl of noodle soup with chicken stock. By the time it’s ready, the color is back in her cheeks.

  “How are you feeling?” I ask, handing her the bowl after I let it cool to almost room temperature. I don’t want to risk her dropping a scalding hot bowl of soup in her lap.

  “I’m good.” She avoids my eyes. “Thank you.”

  Thanking me comes hard for her, seeing that I’m the man who’s done her wrong, but her manners dictate she expresses gratitude.

  Pushing a strand of hair behind her ear, I say, “There’s more soup on the stove and crackers on the counter if you’re in the mood to nibble on something later.” I hesitate. I don’t like leaving her alone like this, but I have a bone to pick with my brother. “Do you want to stay by the fire or would you like me to take you back to bed?”

  “Here’s good,” she says, blowing on the broth.

  The television I’d ordered before she ran is mounted on the wall. “Would you like to watch some TV? Maybe you prefer a book. Can I bring you one?”

  She gives me an exasperated look. “Really, I’m fine.”

  Yeah. Right. “I have to go out for a while. I won’t be long.”

  “Maxime.” She sighs. “Do what you have to do.”

  I fetch her phone from the bedroom and check that it’s charged. “Here.” I leave it next to her. “Call me if you need anything or feel worse, and do not open the door for anyone. Understand?”

  She stares at me with those big, irresistible eyes. “Yes.”

  Kissing the top of her head, I tear myself away from her and put my worry aside for a few minutes to focus on another matter, one no less important—the matter of her safety.

  I had the code for access to the street door changed before we got back from South Africa. Too many of the guards who used to work for me knew the old code. He couldn’t have gotten in that way. There’s only two ways Alexis could’ve. He would’ve had to wait in the street until someone left—that someone being me—and slipped inside before the door closed, or he paid one of the residents in the building to give him the code. I’d find out.

  Alexis sits in the chair my father used to occupy in the office when I enter. Two men pull their guns. My cousin, Jerome, perks up where he’s lounging in the corner.

  Alexis holds up a hand, signalling the men to lower their weapons. “Well, well.” Tipping his fingers together, he leans back in the chair. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  “I doubt this is pleasure. If you ever go near Zoe again, you can count on it being torture.”

  He laughs. “The only reason I’m not shooting you on the spot is because I’m first going to enjoy ruining you.”

  I advance to his desk. “The reason you’re not shooting me is because you can’t survive without my business.”

  I’m paying a hefty fee for the so-called protection service of the very organization I once ran. I’m not doing it because I need that protection. I’m doing it to keep the peace. For Zoe.

  Alexis is pissed off that I took the diamond business with me when I left. I have no doubt he’d love to come after me, take me out, and claim said business for himself. He can’t, however, shoot the brother-in-law of the man who provides the diamonds without killing the business all together. He knows that, and he hates it. The only way to get rid of me is to make it look like an accident, but I know my brother and how he operates. I’ll see him coming long before he strikes.

  Gnashing his teeth, he says, “I’ll put you six feet under. When I do, your pretty little wife will be mine after all.”

  I grab the front of his shirt from over the desk. “If you lay a finger on her, I’ll cut it off before I kill you.”

  He smirks. “That’ll be hard to do from your grave.”

  “Don’t count on it, little brother. I’ll bury you long before you get a chance to try.” I let go with a shove.

  Straightening his shirt, he says, “Are you threatening me? ‘Cause the last time I checked, that was reason enough for a man to be taken out.”

  “This isn’t about business. This fight is personal.”

  “I suggest you leave,” he says through thin lips.

  “I suggest you stay the hell away from my family. If I catch you sneaking around my building, you’re dead.”

  Hatred burns in his eyes as he watches me leave.

  Jerome follows me outside. He grabs my arm when I make to move past him. “Maxime.”

  I look pointedly at where he’s gripping me.

  Letting go, he says, “Alexis has it in for you.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  “What I’m saying is I wouldn’t come around here if I were you.”

  “You’re not me.” I start walking.

  “Wait.” He runs to catch up. “Alexis doesn’t have what it takes. He’s making bad decisions.”

  �
�Complain to my father.”

  “Your father handed over the power.”

  “I’m out, Jerome. What do you want me to say?”

  He sighs. “I don’t know. Fuck. All I know is Alexis is screwing with the wrong people.”

  “Not my problem,” I say, opening my car door and getting inside.

  He catches the door before I can close it. “He’s double-crossing the Italians, his own brother-in-law. You have to talk sense into him.”

  “Alexis is a grown man. He’s capable of carrying the responsibilities of his actions.”

  “Dammit, Max.” He shakes his head. “It’s going to blow up in his face. Don’t you care?”

  “It seems not.” Shutting the door, I start the engine.

  He bangs on the window.

  My impatience mounting, I wind it down. “I don’t have time for this.”

  “At least talk to him,” he says, leaning on the roof with his arms.

  “Do you think he’s going to listen to me?”

  Jerome doesn’t answer.

  “Neither do I,” I say.

  When I start driving, Jerome doesn’t have a choice but to move away from the car.

  Instead of heading home to Zoe, I drive to my parents’ house. It’s Saturday. My father will be lunching at the club. I’m not welcome here, but the guard who announces my visit to the house lets me through the gates. My mother meets me at the door. With her pale and drawn face, she looks ten years older. It pains me to see her like this.

  “You’re taking a risk coming here.”

  “I have news, Maman.”

  “If it’s not offering me an apology, I don’t want to hear it.”

  “I apologized for ruining your party.”

  “You threw everything away,” she says, clutching the string of pearls around her neck. “Alexis isn’t cut out for heading the business. He’s not a leader. He’s making dumb mistakes.”

  “You’re an expert on the business now?” I ask with a teasing smile to lighten the mood.

  My mother doesn’t bite. “You were born to lead. You were the one.”

  “It’s over. You have to let it go.”

  “I don’t understand,” she exclaims.

  “I married her.”

  My mother’s face goes even whiter. “What?”

  “I found Zoe in South Africa. I brought her home. We got married yesterday.”

  She staggers. When I reach for her, she holds up a finger, shaking her head. “You married her. Now you come tell me like I’m an afterthought and not your mother.”

  “Even if I wanted you there, Father wouldn’t have let you come.” From the way Zoe reacted about Sylvie and Francine’s presence, I doubt she would’ve wanted my mother present. I’m not insensitive to Zoe’s reasons. My mother hasn’t exactly been welcoming.

  Tears shine in my mother’s eyes. As always, she fights them. Crying is a weakness, one she’s never allowed herself or us. “I always thought you were a clever boy.”

  “Maman, stop. Don’t insult my wife. It’s not something I’ll forgive.”

  “You have to go.”

  “Why don’t you give her a chance? She’s a good person. Strong. If you can look past your personal ambition for me, you’ll see in her what I see.”

  “All I see, Maxime, is that you threw away your future and broke my heart for a woman who doesn’t deserve you.”

  “I’m sorry you feel that way. I don’t regret my decision. If given another chance, I’ll do it again.”

  “Your father will be home soon.” She backs up a step. “You better go before he catches you here.”

  It’s a lie. My father won’t be home for hours to come, not while the girls are performing.

  “Maman,” I groan. “Since when have you become so blind?”

  The answer I get is the door shutting in my face.

  Chapter 16

  Zoe

  Three hours later, Maxime returns with a shopping bag under each arm. He walks straight to the sofa to hover over me. “How are you feeling?”

  “I’m okay.”

  He glances over his shoulder at the fireplace. “You kept the fire going.”

  “I know how to keep a fire burning.”

  “You do.” The corner of his mouth tugs down.

  Is he thinking about how we used to sit together in front of the fire in the library of his old house and all the perverted things we did in my favorite armchair? It’s a good thing I burned that chair before I left.

  “Sorry I couldn’t be here to do it,” he says.

  “Please, Maxime. Stop apologizing.” I don’t want him to be kind or polite. It’s easier if we both keep our distance and our defenses up.

  His chest rises with an invisible sigh. “I got you velouté de cèpes and oranges. I would’ve called to ask if you have any cravings, but I didn’t want to wake you if you were sleeping.”

  Not the consideration I need. It risks denting the armor I’m so carefully constructing around my heart.

  “I can go out again later,” he says, making his way to the kitchen with the bags.

  “I’m sure whatever you got is fine.” Uncomfortably, I add, “Thank you.”

  This new ceasefire between us is strange territory for me. What I know is the constant push-pull of resisting and fighting him, only to kneel to the need he creates inside me. I know how to play nice to avoid a lesson or the discomfort associated with disobedience. Being kind without an agenda is going to take some getting used to.

  “It’s my job to take care of you.” He deposits the bags on the counter. “A job I’ve sadly neglected already.”

  “Just stop, okay?”

  Splaying his fingers on the counter, he gives me one of those intense looks that used to either set me on fire or made me want to run. “It’s not going to happen again, Zoe.”

  This makes me want to run. Not from fear, but from the commitment he’s forcing. He has no right, especially not after yesterday. “I don’t think we should make any promises right now.”

  The stark lines of his face harden. “You don’t believe me about Fran, do you?”

  I look at the flames leaping up in the chimney to escape his dark stare. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Closing yourself off isn’t going to help.”

  He’s deceived me with lies so many times in the past, I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to trust him. It’s not even a full day since he promised me honesty. He’s yet to prove himself. I’m protecting myself against more pain, but I’m not going to admit how much his actions hurt me. That would give him power he doesn’t deserve. He may be kind now and promise to be done with his lessons, but I can’t forget he still holds my family’s lives in his hands. He’ll use them against me if he must. That hasn’t changed.

  When the silence continues to stretch, he says with a resigned tone, “I’ll start dinner. We seem to have an invasion of ants in the kitchen. I’ll get rid of them.”

  “No.” I turn back to him quickly. “Don’t kill them.”

  “Are you worried about murdering ants, Zoe Belshaw?” he asks with a smile.

  Calling me by his last name jars me. It jars him, too. The smile freezes on his face as he goes quiet for a moment. The satisfaction mixed with a familiar look of lust that come over his features are too much for me to handle. My throat goes dry. To me, I’m still Zoe Hart. Belshaw is the enemy’s name.

  His jaw flexes. He doesn’t like what he sees in my face. “I was only going to sweep them out.”

  Grateful to return to a safer topic, I say, “Sweeping will injure them. They’re just doing their job. They’ll leave on their own when there’s no more food left to carry off. I’ll put the trash bag out.”

  He follows the line of ants to the trashcan. “What are they after?”

  “Sugar.”

  “Sugar?” Stepping on the pedal to lift the lid, he stares inside and stills. After a moment, he pulls out his jacket, and then what I’m assuming to be Francine’s un
derwear, dangling it between two fingers. His face evens out. The earlier broodiness turns to understanding. Finally, he looks up from inspecting the contents of the bin with a frown. “That’s a lot of sugar. Did I get the wrong brand or do have you a vendetta against the sugar like you obviously have against my jacket?”

  “No vendetta. I actually like the sugar.”

  He drops the jacket and underwear back in the bin. “Then what happened?”

  “Francine happened.”

  The worry line between his eyebrows deepens. “Fine. I get this is about last night, but what sin did the sugar commit?”

  “The sugar is collateral damage.”

  A smile ghosts over his lips. “Do explain. I’m intrigued.”

  I sigh. “It’s a stupid war between Francine and me. I use granulated sugar instead of cubes, so she dumps the sugar in the bin and replaces it with cubes.” I make a face. “Apparently, the French way is using cubes.”

  “I see.” He seems to consider it. “Her game doesn’t matter now because I fired her last night.”

  He did? But… “Why?”

  “We spent a couple of nights together after I employed her. It was just a fling. I thought she was over it. I was wrong.” His smile is grim. “You were right when you said she has feelings for me.”

  Good, because I really don’t want her to come back here. I look at my hands. “I asked her to return her key.”

  “I’ll make sure I get it.” Walking to the sofa, he stops next to me. A fire burns in his eyes. “It’s hard for me, not touching you.”

  I swallow.

  “I know you’re not well,” he says, going down on his haunches and sliding a hand through my hair, “but when you’re healthy again, I won’t be so patient.”

  The darkness I got used to is still present in his silver stare. It still rules his heart. I’ve never been immune to his touch, not since the first night he seduced me so tenderly. My body remembers that touch, the contrasting gentleness and wildness, and the roughness I discovered I liked. My heart thuds in my chest as my skin heats with a fever that has nothing to do with my flu.