Romancing the Rough Diamond

by Clare London

  “Told you so,” Paolo said softly, with a wink at his fiancé. “I called it when they came to that reception. I knew from the start.”

  “This is nothing to do with Joel,” Matt said hurriedly to the prince. “I mean, me being here. He doesn’t know where I am.” Didn’t know I was going to be such a bloody idiot.

  “But you’re here for his sake?”

  “Yes.” The time had come to lay his cards on the table. “He thinks this video will mean you dropping Starsmith for the project. Let’s face it, there are plenty of other prestigious jewelers who’d jump at the chance of this commission. And ones where a senior executive isn’t currently this week’s Most Watched.”

  “Actually, you’d be surprised how few meet that criterion,” Paolo murmured, though he possibly didn’t intend that for public consumption.

  “And what do you think, Matt?”

  “I think you won’t get a better man to work for you,” Matt said hotly and without a second thought. He just knew it to be true. “He’s totally committed to doing a top job for the wedding. Starsmith has a portfolio of bloody brilliant designs, and despite that damn teddy bear, we have many enhanced details you’ll never see on high street knockoffs. You have my word on that.” He took a deep, steadying breath. “And if there’s still a chance of Starsmith keeping this commission… I’m prepared to back out of the team myself.”

  Prince Arthur raised his eyebrows again. “I’m sorry, why would that be of interest to us? It’s your design that we like.”

  “Look. I’ll be honest. Joel Sterling thinks I may have had something to do with the leaked design. I’m not his favorite person at the moment.”

  “Did you?” Paolo asked curiously.

  “Of course not! Dammit, he’s not a creative, but he keeps a bloody tight rein on the Project Palace team. None of his designers would have sold him out. I mean, sold Starsmith out.”

  “Your loyalty is admirable.”

  “I love him,” Matt said, then flushed. He’d never meant to say that aloud. But no one laughed. The sky didn’t fall. The only problem was that Joel Sterling wasn’t there to hear.

  “I understand.” The prince’s expression had softened. He glanced quickly at Paolo, then nodded. “Project Palace is an apt name. And you are a good team.”

  Maybe not any longer, Matt thought dismally. Had he convinced them? Or had his stupid break-in stunt undone any good feeling they had toward Starsmith? There was a long silence, and then the prince stood. Paolo leapt immediately to his feet and pulled Matt to standing beside him. Matt’s heartbeat sped up—had he misjudged this whole meeting, and this was where they marched him to the nearest police station?

  “Mr. Barth. Matt,” Prince Arthur said. “We accept your assurance that the final design remains uncompromised. We will be both happy and honored to continue our working relationship with Starsmith.”

  Matt couldn’t help himself—he gaped. “You will? But what about the video?”

  The prince chuckled. “Good grief, those things are ephemera to us. Don’t you think the Royal Family has weathered far worse media storms in the past? We just choose not to dwell on them.” More sternly, he added, “It’s more important that Joel weathers his own storm. And you should be there to help him through.”

  “This is immensely generous of you, sir.” God, Joel would be relieved! Whatever happened with him and Joel personally, Project Palace would still be delivered. “I just wish I could tell him this myself, but I don’t think he’s talking to me. We didn’t part on the best of terms.”

  To Matt’s surprise, a rather sly grin crept over the prince’s handsome face. “Well, if you’ll let us help, we’ll find a way to make that happen!”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  SEVEN o’clock on Monday morning, Joel gathered the team together at Starsmith for an emergency update meeting. He’d barely cleared his throat to start before a small but clear yelp came from the corridor outside the boardroom.

  “Teresa?” Joel quickly looked out the open door. He didn’t want this meeting to go on any longer than it had to. He’d checked again—in vain—for news either from the palace or Matt, and now he was determined to drive to Norfolk and bloody well search, day and night, until he found him.

  “A letter,” she said so quietly it was almost a whisper. She held a single sheet of thick cream paper. “Hand delivered, the minute the office opened. From the palace.”

  A letter? Joel was both fearful and surprised—he’d imagined the palace had moved sufficiently into the twenty-first century to use email or a phone call to contact him. He wished he’d fired off his resignation to them yesterday, preempting this. He gestured her into the room to join everyone else. They were all sitting silently around the meeting table, expressions ranging between confused and wary.

  “This will be about the project,” Joel said firmly. “I mean, I’ve been waiting for an official update from them ever since… you know. In fact, I may not be in any position to complain, but I’m annoyed for everyone’s sake that they’ve kept us waiting this long. We’ll need to know who to liaise with when the palace wants us to hand over the briefing documents. I know project work stopped on Friday—”

  Addam cleared his throat rather theatrically. “Never actually happened, boss.”

  “Sorry?”

  “We’re still working, and were all over the weekend. Apart from when I took time out to rescue you from a potential drunken stupor.”

  Joel did a double take. “But wait a minute. I told you—”

  “And we ignored you.” Addam’s tone was apologetic, but the sparkle in his thick-lashed eyes was far from it. “You were pretty adamant after your Ballistic Ballet on YouTube that the project would be taken away from us. But we have far more trust in you than that.”

  Joel was shocked speechless. The team had apparently mutinied.

  Addam went on, “However, there’s still a pretty tight deadline. My guys are working with the goldsmiths and gemsetters. There was a small problem late on Friday night with moving the diamond settings—the cut of the gold needed to be thicker at that point on the smaller motifs—but Rafe took that on board.”

  At the far side of the table, Rafe raised a hand, looking surprisingly embarrassed at being singled out for praise. This was the man who, as far as Joel knew, had never volunteered to come into the office late night if he could avoid it.

  “And I’ve finalized the gift packaging,” Rafe said. “The boxes are being imprinted with classic Roman emperors, blending the theme of the jewelry with the royal hierarchy. But as for dealing with our sponsors and the official souvenir manufacturers….”

  “God. Of course.” Joel was still stunned. “That’s usually set up by—”

  “Freddie and Lily. Right.” Addam grimaced. “Shortly after Freddie… um… left on Saturday, Lily went with him in solidarity. Gotta admire her for that, despite what he did, but it left us with a gap in the marketing team. So, over the weekend, Teresa stepped in and will be handling that from now on.”

  Joel gaped at Teresa. Seemed he was being blindsided time and again.

  “It makes sense,” she said, a little defensively. “After all, I know them all by name. I have my own contacts in the organizations, and they’re used to me working closely with you as your PA.” Her cheeks were pink. “But if I’m overstepping….”

  “Jesus, no! Never.” Joel recovered and smiled with genuine gratitude. “I can’t think of a better person to entrust it to.”

  Teresa’s cheeks went more scarlet than pink.

  “But it’s all pointless,” he continued sadly. “I mean, I really appreciate the loyalty and your determination. Really. I’ve treasured working with you all. But either the project’s gone, or I’ll be handing it over to a new CEO.”

  “Joel? Please read the letter.” Teresa placed it firmly in front of him on the table. “It’s come from Prince Arthur himself. It… well, it mentions Matt.”

  Matt? Joel’s heart lurched. He picked up
the letter.

  “You want us to go, boss?” Addam asked.

  “No. Please. I know Teresa’s already seen the letter, but I’d like you all to listen to it with me. If there’s one thing this has made me realize, it’s that we’re all in this together.” He read aloud. “His Royal Highness wishes to reassure the Starsmith team that Project Palace will continue as planned, with no changes in personnel or design product.”

  Addam gave a very uncool whoop.

  “How did the prince know we’re calling it that?” Rafe muttered. “That’s the team’s private working title.”

  Addam was high-fiving anyone in the room who’d offer a hand. “See, boss? Bloody good thing we kept on it, regardless.”

  Teresa smiled at Joel. “The royals aren’t easily shaken, I imagine. To them, the important criteria are quality and commitment. And you’ve always given that to your clients. Whoever they are.”

  “But….” Joel didn’t reply to her because he was already halfway down the next paragraph. His voice started to stutter. “Oh my God. They also say… the prince is obliged to report… an unexpected development….”

  “For God’s sake, give it here!” Addam all but snatched it from Joel’s hand. “Shit. It says that Matt Barth is currently detained in the Tower of London!”

  Cries and gasps erupted around the room. “The Tower?” “What the hell?”

  “This is due to an unfortunate incident at Buckingham Palace,” Addam continued somberly. “As such, he has offered to resign from the project team. However, we expect all other arrangements to proceed as previously contracted—”

  “No!” Joel said, much too loudly and definitely too forcefully. “No way!” Everyone’s attention swung back to him.

  “We can manage, I think,” Addam said tentatively. “I mean, without Matt. His input was invaluable at the start, don’t get me wrong, but the designs are set now, and we’re into the production phase.”

  “No,” Joel repeated. “What did I just say? That we’re all in this together.”

  “Are you sure?” Addam raised his beautifully groomed eyebrows. “You were furious when you thought it was his fault.”

  Joel was wracked again with self-loathing. “I know what I thought. It was shameful of me, and I accepted that even before we discovered it was Freddie’s negligence that got us into this mess. I behaved appallingly, I treated Matt unfairly, and, let me tell you honestly, it’s—”

  “It’s breaking your heart,” Teresa finished for him, softly.

  “So, let’s have no more talk about abandoning him from this project. Without Matt, there would be no project. No offense meant to you and your team, Addam.”

  “None taken, boss.”

  It took Joel a moment, but he realized, despite his very public display of emotion, everyone was grinning at him. “What’s up with you all?”

  “All that about Matt being part of the team?” Addam rolled his eyes. “We never disagreed with you, boss.”

  “We’re as fond of him as you are, Joel,” Teresa added.

  “Well, not exactly as much. That’d be creepy,” Rafe protested quietly in the background, a leery grin on his face, until the assistant next to him accidentally-on-purpose poked him with a sharp pencil to distract him.

  Addam put his hand on Joel’s shoulder. “You go get on your white charger—”

  “Joel drives a Mercedes, actually.” That was Rafe again, still smirking.

  “And go rescue our lead designer!”

  JOEL paused in the lobby of the Starsmith building, buttoning his coat. Teresa had followed him down to the exit. “Teresa? This Tower of London thing… they don’t actually keep criminals there nowadays, do they?”

  “It’s just old history, isn’t it?” She didn’t look convinced.

  “Dammit, you’ve lived in London all your life!”

  “And you must have studied the same history at school that I did,” she countered. “Do you think they’re really keeping Matt as a prisoner?”

  “No, of course not. It was just a mischievous bit of phrasing in that letter.” I hope.

  “Surely they’d have taken him to a police station if he’d committed a serious crime,” she said thoughtfully. “I do remember a TV documentary about the Tower a while back. It was used for temporary prisoners until quite recently, though they haven’t executed anyone there since the 1940s….”

  Joel’s heart missed a beat. “Good God, that’s a bit recent, isn’t it?”

  “And I did hear they kept the Kray twins there in the 1950s for a short while.”

  His car keys fell from his shaking fingers, and he had to crouch down to retrieve them from under the reception desk. “For what sort of crime?”

  “Failing to report for National Service, as I recall.”

  Not an “unfortunate incident at the palace,” then.

  “The look on your face!” Teresa started to laugh, then bit it off. “It’ll be okay, Joel.”

  “I just need to tell him….” Joel swallowed hard. “I should have told him….”

  “You’re too used to keeping things under wrap. But you need to say it when you see him.”

  “I need to tell him I’m sorry. If I’d stopped to think with my heart rather than my suspicious business head, I would never have accused him. I should have known—I already knew!—better.”

  “Yes, you tell him that. We’ll hold the fort here until you return.” She patted his arm encouragingly. “With Matt beside you.”

  DEAR God, but it was an intimidating building! Maybe Matt wasn’t being held here under threat of being beheaded, but passing through the imposing doorway cut into the thick stone wall, Joel could almost believe that was still a royal option. He’d arrived before the official 9:00 opening time, so after the unique password had been exchanged with the Tower guard, a Yeoman Warder in his distinctive red-and-dark-blue uniform accompanied him along the outskirts of the compound. When they passed Traitor’s Gate, Joel couldn’t help a shiver.

  “Chilly morning, sir,” the warder said cheerfully.

  Was that a sly smile on the man’s face? Joel couldn’t be sure. He pulled his coat closer and followed obediently, his footsteps echoing the warder’s officious stride across the cobbles. Marching to his fate, Joel thought, and his worry for Matt flared again. When they walked past the turning to where the Crown Jewels were housed—and where Joel had been before—he wondered where they were headed. When they passed the White Tower, with all its grim history as a military fortress, his heart settled into a steadier pace. But when they took a turn away from the Battlements, the panic started up again. Where was he being taken?

  Finally the warder opened a door set deep into the wall and gestured Joel through. The area inside was dark, the daylight not quite strong enough yet for Joel to get his bearings, but the warder guided him through one more door off a narrow, unevenly paved corridor, and they stepped into….

  “It’s a pub!” Joel exclaimed. The lights were bright in here, and the air warm. All the furnishings were modern, clean, and immediately welcoming. A red leather banquette hugged the length of one wall, fronted with dark wooden tables, as often found in public bars and pubs. Hanging above the seating was a vast selection of plaques with regimental coats of arms, and photographic displays of weapons—though Joel was sure he saw an actual ceremonial axe in one frame. At the far end of the room was a traditional bar, where three men stood watching him, a further two standing more discreetly behind the main group.

  “Your Royal Highness,” Joel said in surprise. It was Prince Arthur, with Paolo Astra beside him, and on his other side—thank God!—Matt. And it didn’t look like Matt was in chains of any sort. Their eyes met. Matt nodded and smiled at him, a little grimly. Joel didn’t care! Matt was here, was all right, and was acknowledging Joel.

  Everything else could be rebuilt from that.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “MR. Sterling.” The prince inclined his head. He was in an immaculately cut suit, though w
ithout necktie. Joel suspected that was as casual as he ever got. “Yes, this is a pub, but a very private one. Open only to the warders and their guests. They have… ah… allowed me its use today to host this meeting.”

  “Though at this time of the morning, with no spirits available,” Paolo said mulishly.

  The prince shook his head fondly at Paolo. “I’ve taken the liberty of ordering other refreshment. I don’t know how long we may stay, but at the moment, I’ve arranged for it to be for our sole use.”

  There was a scuffle behind Joel, and two young warders came in with trays of sandwiches, pastries, tea, and coffee. It was a bizarre feeling, to be having a late breakfast with a prince of the realm in a secret pub that few people outside the Tower of London even knew existed. Paolo bustled over and sat at one of the tables, and Joel settled opposite him. The prince slid in beside his fiancé, leaving the chair beside Joel for Matt. After a moment’s hesitation, and with no comment, Matt followed the other men and sat down. The chair caught on the edge of a flagstone and rocked Matt briefly against Joel. He straightened, but not until Joel had heard him groan softly, as if the touch had pleased him.

  Joel’s own nerves sang with the touch. Matt’s whole look, sound, and smell filled the senses. His body was solid beside Joel’s. His involuntary smile curved lips that Joel ached to touch with his own. Joel looked quickly back at the prince, shocked despite himself at such a visceral response. “Sir? If there’s any problem here, with Matt, with me, I take full responsibility.”

  “Hey.” Matt’s gruff tone was familiar and typical of him—a protest against Joel taking charge. But today there was an excited, much happier tone warring with it. “I started this—”

  “Joel. Matt. Please, there’s no need.” The prince examined a neatly cut rare-beef sandwich, nodded with delight, and demolished it in two bites. He wiped his hands on a linen napkin and gestured to Paolo to pour the hot drinks. “In fact, you should forgive me.”