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

by Charmaine Pauls

  Pushing my concerns aside, I survey the street once more before going down to the parking for my car. The traffic is already heavy despite the early hour. I don’t get to the office before nine. When I enter the underground parking, my shoulders draw tight with tension. A black Mercedes is parked next to my regular spot. The windows are tinted, but I don’t need to see inside. I know to who it belongs. Drawing my gun out from under my seat, I keep it ready on my lap before I pull in next to the Mercedes and cut the engine. When the driver gets out of the Mercedes and opens the passenger door, I tuck the gun into my waistband before getting out, but I don’t slide into the passenger seat as per the silent instruction. I cross my arms and lean against my car.

  After a short wait, the backdoor on the other side of the Mercedes opens. My father groans as he folds his body double. He straightens with a flinch. He’s put on weight. The trench coat doesn’t hide his bigger stomach. His face looks older, his bad eye sagging more in its socket and deeper lines running over his forehead. Through the open door, I glimpse a young woman with red hair and big tits. The dress shows off more skin than a stripper’s uniform at the club. My father hasn’t waited very long to replace my mother, not that I care. Catching my look, she averts her eyes and pulls the sides of her fur coat together to cover her cleavage.

  “Max,” my father says in greeting.

  I turn my attention back to him. “Why are you here?”

  He gives a humorless smile. “No cutting corners, I see.”

  “Since I’m dead to you, there’s no point in wasting time with politeness.”

  “You’re right.” He squints at me. “I hear your business isn’t doing well.”

  I laugh. “Spying on me? Are you afraid?”

  He shrugs. “I hear things.”

  “Things.” I straighten. “Is there a point to this conversation?”

  “You need our old clients or you’re going under.”

  I clench my jaw. “They need me too.”

  “They’re buying from De Beers and Anglo. They don’t need you.”

  “De Beers and Anglo don’t have the stones I have.”

  “Yeah.” He leans an arm on the door to support his weight. “I heard black diamonds are the latest rage.”

  So, the old man is keeping up with the business. “Get to the point.”

  “Cut Alexis in.”

  This time, my laugh is harsh. “Not a chance.”

  “If the two of you work together, the old clients will return. They’re divided, uncertain where their loyalty should lie.”

  “Then tell them they have nothing to worry about.”

  He doesn’t respond to my challenge. Alexis is deliberately letting them stew in concern to ensure I don’t get buyers, but it seems my father’s reluctance to set things straight is also born from another interest. He’s not only set on destroying me, but also winning financial gain in the process.

  “I thought so,” I say, pushing away from the car.

  “Wait.” My father’s voice rings out in the empty garage. “Alexis is making mistakes. Leonardo isn’t happy with the way he’s dealing with the business. Alexis needs a guiding hand.”

  From the way he almost chokes on the words, I know how hard this is for him to ask. “Why would I do that?” I ask with scorn.

  He raises his palms. “Alexis is your brother.”

  “Was my brother.”

  His face grows red. “You owe me. I raised you.” He stabs a finger in my direction. “Everything you have is because of me.”

  I advance until we’re standing nose to nose. “Everything I had, I worked for. I gave it all to Alexis. That makes us even. We cut the ties. You made your decision as I made mine. You’re nothing to me. Now get out of my way before I make you.”

  “You’ll regret this,” he says, trembling with rage.

  “I don’t think so.”

  Turning my back on him, I walk to the elevator. From this conversation, I know two things. One, Alexis is in trouble, or my father wouldn’t have come crawling back on his knees begging for help. Two, my father still doesn’t give a shit about me. If he did, he’d never suggest I let Alexis worm his way into the business. We both know how that will end up. The diamond business will revert back to the mob, leaving me with nothing and no way to provide for Zoe or myself.

  I slam the button to call down the elevator and get inside when it opens. I’m just in time to see the Mercedes pull out of its parking space when the doors close. Taking out my phone, I type a memo to the security overseeing the building. From now on, no one related to me is allowed inside. When you’ve broken away from the mob, your biggest enemies are your own family.

  Chapter 25

  Zoe

  I try not to think about last night or where that leaves me in the unequal standing of my unconventional relationship with Maxime. Instead, I focus on finishing the dress, rounding it off with thick stitching around the lapel and cuffs in the same color as the fabric.

  Since I don’t have labels, I embroider my initials into the flap under the collar. The rest of the morning I spend setting up a simple website on my new laptop. I keep my CV short, mentioning my passions and vision. Using my phone, I take a photo of the dress on the dress form. An application allows me to change the dress form into a digital model. I choose a woman with a pale complexion to show off the darker fabric of the dress. Her face is avant-garde and as harsh as the simple lines of the dress, a perfect marriage. Then I upload the image onto my site and put a ridiculously high price on the dress.

  By the afternoon, I’ve designed a basic logo with my initials and set up social media accounts. Since it’s a beautiful day, I have a quick salad for lunch in the summerhouse before I make a few rough sketches I upload to my new website and accounts. My last task is reaching out to a few industry related accounts, sending them private viewing invitations. Happy with the day’s work, I tidy up my material and the apartment before pouring myself a glass of rosé to take a brief break before starting dinner.

  The buzz of the intercom in the kitchen is such a foreign sound it makes me jump. I lift the receiver and ask cautiously, “Yes?”

  “Zee?”

  I go still at the sound of that voice. Impossible. It can’t be.

  “Zee, it’s Damian. Can you let me in?”

  “How—” Damian? What is he doing here? “What—”

  Oh, my God. My brother is here. Joy mixed with nerves send me into a flat spin. There can only be one reason why he’d be here.

  “Of course,” I say, pressing the button to open the door in the street for him.

  In the time he takes to come up, I leave the wine on the counter and rush to the dressing room to check my reflection in the mirror. I’m dressed in a T-shirt, jeans, and socks. My hair is tied in a high ponytail on my head. I don’t have a stitch of make-up on my face, but my cheeks are flushed red from the shock and excitement. Grabbing the make-up brush, I apply a few swipes of powder under each eye to hide the dark rings that make my skin appear bruised. I don’t want Damian to see the evidence of my stress and lack of sleep.

  I barely make it back to the lounge before the bell rings. Flinging the door open, I jump into my brother’s arms.

  He stumbles a step and regains his balance with a chuckle. “You’ll take us both to the ground.”

  Holding him at arm’s length, I ask, “What are you doing here?”

  His smile stretches. “Can I at least come in before answering your questions?”

  “Oh, my God. Where are my manners?” Hooking my arm through his, I lead him inside. “When did you get here?”

  “I just landed.”

  I shut the door and lock it. Motioning to the laptop bag slung over his shoulder, I ask, “No luggage?”

  “I’m not staying.”

  I stare at him. “Are you telling me you flew eleven hours and you’re not sleeping over?”

  “I have a flight back tonight.”

  “Damian.” I search his face. “I’m mo
re happy than I can ever express that you’re here, but why would you do that? It’s crazy.”

  His brow pleats. “I didn’t want to leave Lina alone for long.”

  “How is she?” I release him to search his face. “Will she be all right without you?”

  “She isn’t due for another two months, but…”

  Anything can happen. Yes, I understand, and she’s too far along to be allowed on a flight. “As happy as I am to see you, you shouldn’t have left her. Not now.”

  “Russell is staying over and Josh’s nanny is sleeping in.”

  “Why are you here, Damian?” I study him carefully. “I’m guessing it’s not for business.”

  “I came to check on you.”

  “Check on me?” I exclaim. “Why?”

  “It’s not like you to say you’ll call and then not do it. I had to be sure everything was fine.”

  “Everything is fine.” I rub my forehead. “I can’t believe you came all these miles just to see for yourself.”

  “Is it?” he asks, still studying me with a serious expression.

  “Yes.” I plaster a bright smile on my face. “Better than fine.” I wave my arms. “See for yourself.”

  He looks around the space. “Nice place.”

  “Maxime went to a lot of effort with the renovations. Would you like to see it all?”

  “Sure.” He drops his laptop bag on the reclining chair under the stairs.

  I take him on a tour of the inside, followed by the summerhouse and greenhouse on the terrace.

  “Would you like a glass of wine?” I ask when we step back inside. “I was just going to have one.”

  “Yes, please.” He steps up to the dress form and tilts his head as he takes in the dress while I pour another glass of wine. “Thank you,” he says when I hand it to him. Nodding in the direction of the dress, he says, “This isn’t your usual style.”

  I smile. “I’ve evolved.”

  He regards it thoughtfully as he takes a sip of his wine, and then he winces. I cringe inwardly, but keep a straight face. It’s a cheap wine and not the best quality. At least I can get away with not being French and a little uneducated when it comes to the local wine cultivars. I don’t want Damian to know about our financial concerns. I don’t want to give him any reason to doubt my happiness. His life depends on it. So do Lina’s and their children’s.

  Setting the wine on the table, he rounds the dress. “I didn’t know you went back to dressmaking.”

  “Designing,” I say with pride, trying to appear confident.

  “It’s…”

  “Do you hate it?” I ask, wringing my hands together.

  “Actually, it’s quite stylish. I’m just battling to see you in it.”

  “Oh, it’s not for me. It’s for my new brand.”

  He raises a brow. “You’re developing a brand?”

  “Yes.” I laugh. “I’m trying to.”

  “Good for you.”

  I move toward the table where my phone lies. “Let me call Maxime and tell him to come home earlier. We can have dinner together.”

  “No,” he says with a little too much force. “Don’t disturb him.”

  I know what he’s doing. He doesn’t want to give Maxime a warning that he’s here. He wants to study our relationship dynamic with the advantage of surprising Maxime.

  “Tell me about this hasty marriage,” he says, unbuttoning his jacket.

  Our marriage is the last thing I want to talk about. I take his arm and lead him to the sofa. “It just kind of happened.”

  His look is piercing. “Yes?”

  “On the spur of the moment,” I add in a happy tone.

  He opens his mouth, but the sound of the key turning in the lock saves me from answering whatever my brother was going to ask. The door opens, revealing Maxime on the threshold with a single pink rose in his hands. His gaze immediately finds Damian. For a moment, the two men give each other a measuring look. Not a speck of shock registers on my husband’s face. He steps into the room like my brother is visiting every day, dropping his bag before removing his jacket.

  I walk to him with my stomach wound tight, praying he’ll play along when I go on tiptoes and put my arms around his neck. To my relief, he bends down to kiss me.

  Giving me the flower, he says, “I missed you.”

  “I missed you, too,” I whisper.

  Maxime rests his palms lightly on my hips, giving a gentle squeeze before setting me aside to face my brother. “Damian. If I’d known you were going to pay us a visit I would’ve left the office earlier.”

  Damian gets to his feet. “I didn’t want to slow down your business. I know how it is to get a new venture off the ground.”

  “Very thoughtful,” Maxime says with a smile, but the gesture is nothing but empty politeness. He glances at the wine on the table. “Would you like a whiskey?”

  “No, thanks,” Damian says. “Wine is fine.”

  I haven’t done it since Maxime fetched me back to France, but I walk to the kitchen and pour my husband a whiskey after putting the flower in a thin vase. It’s not out of consideration, but to escape the two men’s scrutiny for a few precious moments.

  When I return with the drink, Damian’s attention is back on Maxime.

  “Thank you, cherie,” Maxime says, taking the glass and kissing my lips.

  “Congratulations on your wedding,” Damian says to Maxime, watching him like a shark circling a seal in bloody waters.

  “Thank you.” Taking my hand, Maxime pulls me down next to him on the sofa. There’s not a stitch of guilt in his voice or comportment.

  I cringe in an involuntary reflex, but quickly smooth it over by pretending to be cuddling closer to my husband.

  Maxime’s arm tightens around me. “We should go out for dinner and celebrate.” He adds in a tone that’s neither hostile nor friendly, “Now that you’re here.”

  His words are intellectually correct, the suggestion the socially acceptable response that the situation calls for, but they lack emotional substance. He’s saying what’s expected of him, reciting the phrases like a parrot.

  “I don’t want to put you out,” Damian says.

  “I’m sure my brother is tired after the long flight,” I add quickly. We don’t have enough money for a fancy restaurant and the French cuisine Maxime will no doubt feel obliged to entertain Damian with. Getting to my feet, I make my way to the kitchen. “I’ll just throw something together.”

  I give Damian a bright smile from the counter where I pause to measure his reaction. To my relief, neither of the men pushes the issue, but Damian’s next words almost have me gasping out loud.

  “Where are the photos?”

  Maxime regards Damian with a blunt expression. “What photos?”

  Damian’s gaze sharpens. “Your wedding photos.”

  I open my mouth to make up an excuse, to say that in our rush we’d forgotten all about it, but Maxime beats me to it with an even tone.

  “They’re not ready yet. The photographer hasn’t finished developing them.”

  Damian relaxes a fraction. “You’ll send some to us, I hope.”

  “Of course.” Maxime’s smile is a little more genuine this time.

  Wiping my hair from my suddenly clammy face, I swallow away my nerves.

  “How’s the business?” Damian asks.

  I watch Maxime from under my lashes as I fill the big pot with water and turn on the gas.

  “Great,” my husband says, not missing a beat. “Thank you for your support. Black diamonds are only taking off in Europe now, but I congratulate you for your vision.”

  Damian picks up his glass, takes another sip of his wine, and sets the glass aside again. “What’s your vision?”

  “To follow the trends.” Maxime’s eyes are fixed on Damian, giving the impression my brother has his undivided attention, but I know he’s watching my every move and measuring my expression.

  I don’t dare to look at him for fear t
hat Damian will catch something passing between us. Instead, I pour a scoop of salt into my palm and add it to the water before dusting my hand on my jeans.

  “What about buyers?” Damian asks. “Will they follow?”

  I’m not stupid. I know the buyers are afraid of showing disloyalty to Alexis by supporting Maxime now that he’s broken away from the mob. That’s why the business is suffering. If I could’ve figured it out, so has Damian. I tear open the box of spaghetti with shaking hands, trying not to spill the pasta as I dump it into the bubbling water.

  “They’ll come around,” Maxime says with so much certainty he makes even me want to believe him. “These things take time.”

  Damian nods, seemingly pacified for the moment.

  “Would you like to visit the office?” Maxime asks. “I’d love to introduce you to some of the prominent business players.”

  Damian’s smile is polite. “Maybe another time.”

  Understanding flashes in Maxime’s eyes. “How’s your wife doing?”

  My brother’s features darken. He’s taking Maxime’s forced interest as a threat.

  “We’re both excited about the baby,” I say.

  Damian’s gaze finds mine briefly before he says, “She’s doing great.”

  “Good.” Maxime sounds sincere. “I’m sorry we can’t be there for the birth.”

  Damian glances at me again. “If Zoe wants to come, I’ll make sure she’s safe.”

  “I don’t doubt your ability to protect her,” Maxime replies, “but I can’t let her out of my sight.” Rubbing a thumb over his lip as he studies me, he adds, “Yet.”

  I roll my eyes at the possessive statement, but it’s a language my brother obviously understands from the way he relaxes with an agreeable if not satisfied nod.

  When I carry plates and cutlery from the kitchen, Maxime gets up to help me set the table. Damian fetches glasses and the jug I’ve filled with water. While the men instill themselves at the table, I heat a tin of tomato sauce in a pan.