Mister Diamond

by Chance Carter

  I soon got to put that theory to the test.

  Fyodor shoved open my front door with such force that it crashed against the wall, probably leaving a mark. I stayed put on the couch and finished the rest of my beer, waiting for him to come to me.

  “Dominik!” he roared.

  He appeared behind me in the reflection of the window a few seconds later. I let my head fall back against the couch and looked back at him. Even upside down, I could already tell he was much angrier than I’d ever seen him.

  “You little shit!” He came around the front of the couch, grabbed me by the lapels and hauled me to my feet. “I just got a phone call from Alexei Petrokov saying you insulted and rejected his daughter. Is this true?”

  I yanked myself free. “The insults went both ways.”

  “I never said you had to like the girl,” Fyodor growled. “Though I don’t see any reason why you wouldn’t.”

  “Maybe you should marry her then.”

  His jaw tensed, and for a second I really thought he was going to hit me.

  Let him try.

  Fyodor smoothed a hand through his hair and shook his head. “I’m going to give you forty-eight hours,” he said.

  “For what?”

  “To fix your fucking mess,” he replied. “Valentina’s staying at the Ritz in town. Go there right now and grovel for her forgiveness like your life depends on it.”

  “Because it does?” I mocked. “I’m tired of these threats.”

  My boy,” he said, lowering his voice to barely above a whisper. “I do not make threats. I make promises. And I promise you that if you do not make things right with Valentina within forty-eight hours and get your engagement back on track, you will find yourself out of a job and out of my will.” He stepped closer, glaring up at me. “Do you understand?”

  I glared right back and spoke through clenched teeth. “Da.”

  He stared at me for another few seconds, probably sizing me up for a coffin, and then left. He gave the door a slam on his way out for good measure.

  I went back to the fridge for another beer, kicking aside splinters of glass.

  Fyodor belonged to a different time. I could see him ruling the streets of Moscow back in the days when Orlov Import/Export mostly imported black market goods. This kind of marriage would have been natural back then, too, and he wouldn’t have to fight me so hard on it.

  Fyodor hadn’t wanted me close when I was a child, maybe because I reminded him of the wife he’d lost, maybe because he just didn’t see himself as a father figure, but that had been his mistake. A lifetime of distance had made me strong-willed. Growing up where I did had made me independent. Even though I faced an uncertain future, at least it was a future of my own design.

  I ran my hand over the cool granite of my countertop. Would all of this be gone in a year? A month? I loved this penthouse. I loved the way the afternoon light made the living room glow, and how my shower always had exactly the right amount of pressure, and that in the winter time I could sit on the patio with a beer and watch the snow blanket the city that never slept.

  But I loved my freedom too. And making my own choices. And there was one thing I knew with the utmost certainty that I wanted to choose. And she wasn’t even a thing at all.

  It was a warm day, warmer than it had been so far this year. I showed up to work in a full suit as usual, but left the jacket at the office for my lunchtime errand.

  As I walked past Bernie’s desk and she wished me a good lunch, it hit me in the face how normal everything seemed. Paperwork flew this way and that across the office, phones rang, people talked and stared at glowing computer screens. It was like I was looking at the rug about to be pulled out from underneath me and noticing the pattern on it for the first time.

  And you know what? It wasn’t that great a rug.

  My job would be the least stressful thing for me to lose. I’d never enjoyed working there, even though I liked my staff and the work was never hard. It was just stifling. Constricting. And constantly under the watchful eye of my father.

  The income? That would be another thing entirely. I had no problem with my father disinheriting me, but I was going to need to find a way to get money somehow.

  For right now, however, the only thought on my mind was getting this ring back to Tiffany’s where it belonged. And leaving with another kind of treasure.

  I couldn’t wait to see Gemma. I thought about calling her last night, but it didn’t seem like enough just to tell her what decision I’d made. I needed to show her. And what better way to show her than to return the ring?

  Valentina had never even seen this one. I intended to keep it that way. I hadn’t talked to my father or Valentina since the dramatic afternoon in my apartment the day before, though I could hear the ticking of my father’s clock. Part of me wondered if the timer would count down to zero, only for my father not have the balls to go through with it. He could say what he wanted about me, but I was a good CEO and had worked hard on the family business. If I were him, I wouldn’t be so eager to see me go.

  Then again, the one thing Fyodor and I had never suffered from was the ability to understand each other.

  Tiffany’s was busier than I’d ever seen it, and Gemma was nowhere to be seen. The only employee on the floor was a frazzled looking blonde talking to a couple on one side of the room whilst keeping her eye on all the others. Either Gemma had the day off or she was in the back somewhere. I waited until a gap between customers and made my move.

  “Hello.” I smiled at the blonde. She smiled back. “I’m looking for Gemma. Is she in today?”

  The woman’s smile fell. “I’m sorry sir, but Gemma’s no longer with the company. Is there something I could assist you with?”

  “No longer with the company?” I frowned. “Is she okay?”

  She nodded. “I’m not at liberty to say what happened, but I can assure you that she’s fine. I do have a lot of customers though and we are short-staffed today...”

  “Right. Of course. Thank you for your help.”

  I headed back into the sun-soaked street, whipping out my phone and dialing Gemma.

  Had she quit? It didn’t seem like her to do something like that, especially if it meant leaving her coworkers in the lurch. But then what?

  “We’re sorry, but the number you have dialed is no longer in service,” a droning female voice reported. “Please hang up or—“

  I hung up, heart thudding erratically. If Gemma didn’t work at Tiffany’s anymore and her phone was disconnected, there was no way for me to contact her. No way for me to tell her what I did.

  Or, I realized what I planned to do, since in all the confusion I’d forgotten to return the ring. It weighed heavily in my pocket, just like the decision on my head.

  I’d lost Gemma.

  In forty-eight hours, I would lose everything else. Suddenly that didn’t seem so easy to bear.

  Chapter 19

  Gemma

  Though it wasn’t possible for my brother to sabotage my job hunt, every rejection still felt like a slap in the face from him and Niles. How could it not, when they were the reason I’d lost my job at Tiffany’s?

  It had been two weeks since I received that fateful phone call from my manager, telling me there’d been a customer complaint about my abusive behavior, a complaint they’d been able to verify after looking through the security footage for that day. Sure enough, they’d caught me screaming at two men and practically chasing them from the shop. Sure enough, I was more fired than a ceramic pot.

  I was disposable, so that meant my supervisor didn’t want to hear my side of the story and didn’t have to. And now, with exactly one job on my resume, I had to pull a rabbit out of a hat and find a job while also competing with everyone else looking to do the same.

  So far, things were not going well.

  I hadn’t gotten too upset when I first lost my job because that meant that my brother and Niles had no way to find me anymore. I changed my phone numb
er just to be safe, and felt assured in my security once more. That felt good. And after having my heart broken and losing my job in less than twenty-four hours, getting my security back was about the best thing that could happen to me. I figured I’d get a new job no problem, and maybe have to go into my overdraft a little to afford the first payment of my teaching certification, but that I’d balance out in the end.

  Now, two weeks down the line, I was starting to panic. At this rate, I wasn’t even going to be able to afford rent, never mind school. Molly assured me that she’d cover me as long as I needed, but I couldn’t ask that of her. She was already struggling to pay off student loans for a degree she didn’t even complete. The last thing she needed to add to the mix was my mess.

  As I had done every day for the past two weeks (with maybe one or two days of just enjoying not having to get up and go to work in the morning), I slipped into a nice pair of flats and hit the streets.

  I’d started with jewelry stores, then branched out into other kinds of retail. When I still got not bites from that, I spread my oats a little further and went for office work and administration, figuring I might lack in office experience but I had plenty of customer service, plus good phone manner and a degree.

  Still nothing.

  This was when I started to worry. There was still the chance I’d hear back from one of the places I’d applied to, but I knew I needed to keep applying. I didn’t have any other experience except Tiffany’s, and I figured the only place that would hire me without relevant experience were fast food joints and temp jobs. One chicken restaurant actually told me I was overqualified in their rejection. They didn’t care that I really needed the job.

  For the past week, I’d started doubling back to places I’d already applied and asking to speak to the manager there, hoping to get a foot in that way. I also brought resumes with me in case I saw anywhere hiring while I was walking around.

  It was exhausting. Looking for a job was a job in and of itself, and even though I put on a fresh smile every morning, my enthusiasm was dwindling.

  Today was a gorgeous sunny day at least. A beautiful day for rejection. I started off in the direction of a clothing store I applied to at the end of last week and tried not to think about how much money I would have to throw down on utilities next week.

  I looked longingly through store windows as I passed. Not at any of the clothes or handbags, mind you–at the employees. They had jobs. And they probably didn’t have to worry about making their rent or having enough left over to eat a decent meal. I used to take those kinds of things for granted, and now was the first time I’d really been on the edge of having nothing. It was scary.

  I passed a red-bricked building and paused when I saw a Help Wanted sign in the window. I looked for the entrance and found it, as well as a sign welcoming me to the Jefferson Hotel.

  A hotel job. I could do that. Answering phones, booking in guests, fetching spare towels. Hey, that might even be fun.

  I smiled and walked into the lobby, which was nice, if a bit plain. A tall skinny woman with mousy brown hair looked up at me and smiled.

  “Hello,” she said. “Checking in?”

  I shook my head. “I saw the sign in the window and wanted to come in and introduce myself,” I said, stepping up to the desk and handing over a resume.

  The girl didn’t take it. “I’ll go get Rosa,” she said.

  “Rosa?”

  “The housekeeping manager,” she replied, and disappeared through a door behind her.

  The housekeeping manager? So it wasn’t quite the job I envisioned, but I could do it. Sure, Molly always complained that I didn’t know how to clean properly, but I could learn.

  The girl returned a second later with a woman I took to be Rosa. She was a little shorter than me, but not by much, and her full-figured frame barely fit into the drab housekeeping uniform. Her face was one of those that always seemed in a perpetual scowl, and her stringy black hair was gray at the roots. She evaluated me with a flick of her brown eyes and shook her head.

  “Janine, I told you not to waste my time.” Her voice was husky, like she smoked a pack a day.

  Without sparing me a second glance, Rosa turned and reached for the door handle.

  “Hey! Wait!” I gripped the edge of the counter, tempted to grab her by the collar and yank her back. I’d never been so insulted. Who the hell did this woman think she was?

  “Wait?” Rosa looked back at me but didn’t turn from the door. Janine slid out from behind the counter and wisely disappeared. “Wait for what, princessa? Your quinceanera? Go back to Soho and let me get on with my work.”

  “I could be helping you with your work if you’d just give me chance,” I replied haughtily. “You didn’t even look at my resume.”

  “I looked at your pretty blazer, chika, and that’s enough.” She turned to face me now, resting her hands on her hips. “Have you got cleaning experience?”

  I deflated just a little. “Well, no, but—“

  “No buts,” Rosa snapped. “You either do or you don’t.”

  “I don’t,” I admitted.

  “How does this sound to you: forty-five hours of back-breaking work a week, no overtime, shit pay, and an endless supply of backed up toilets and dirty sheets?”

  I didn’t reply right away and Rosa wrinkled her nose, like she’d made her point.

  “Just as I thought,” she said. “You’re not cut out for this kind of work. Believe me.”

  But just as she was about to turn and leave, I spoke.

  “You know what? I’m so freaking tired of everyone telling me what I am and am not capable of. I can be whatever the hell I want to be and it’s about time somebody saw that.”

  Rosa turned midway through my rant, and if I didn’t know any better I would’ve thought that twitch in her lip was almost a smile.

  “I’m just as capable as any other person who walks through that door looking for a job and all I need is an opportunity to prove that to you. I don’t care how hard the work is. I can handle it.”

  Rosa lifted one eyebrow and pursed her full lips. An eternity stretched between us and I held eye contact even though I wanted to look anywhere but her judgmental stare.

  Then, finally, she gave a short nod. “Okay.”

  “Okay?”

  “Are you going to need me to repeat everything I say?” she huffed. “Okay. You got the job.”

  “Really?” All my righteous indignation drained away and a sense of disbelief remained in its stead. Rosa simply glared and I rushed to speak before she had to repeat herself again.

  “Okay, tomorrow. What time?”

  “Seven. Show up a few minutes early so we can get you a uniform.” She held out a hand and I stared at it.

  Rosa shook her hand. “Your resume, girl. Give me your resume. I don’t even know your name, and I assume your phone number is on there.”

  Still shell-shocked, I handed her my resume and started slowly backing away.

  “You won’t regret this,” I said.

  Rosa hmmphed and disappeared into the back room. Janine quietly slunk back behind the desk, and I stepped out onto the street, a new woman.

  A woman with a purpose. A job.

  And a helluva lot to learn about housekeeping.

  * * *

  “I’m home!” Molly sang.

  I rushed from my seat on the couch and skidded into the kitchen, nearly colliding with her. “You’re home!”

  Molly assessed me with a suspicious tilt of her eyebrow. “And you’re in a good mood. Would it be too presumptuous to ask if you got a job?”

  I pulled open the fridge and revealed the bottle of champagne chilling on the bottom shelf. It was the cheapest brand they had at the corner store, but I knew it was going to taste like success.

  “I got a job!” I declared. “I’m working at the Jefferson Hotel in Wakefield as a housekeeper. Isn’t that awesome?”

  Molly’s expression went from jubilant to flat. “Housekeepi
ng?”

  “I know, I know—not my skill set. But it could be. That’s the wonderful thing about skills, you know. You can make new ones.” I pulled out the champagne and started working on the cork while Molly adjusted to the news.

  “I’m happy for you,” she said. “Actually, really happy. Because something came in the mail while you were out today.” She rooted through her backpack and produced a plain brown envelope. At first I thought it was going to be a bill or something awful like that, but I saw the return address and nearly dropped the champagne.

  Molly took it from my hands and finished the job as I ripped open the envelope and read the letter it contained.

  The bottle popped. My jaw dropped. And I nearly started to cry.

  “I got in!” I screeched.

  “Of course you did,” Molly said, grabbing two glasses from the cupboard. “You went to an expensive university.”

  “Yeah, but...I don’t know.” I shook my head in disbelief, reading and re-reading the letter. “I guess I just assumed...” I shut that thought down and grabbed the glass Molly held out for me. “You know what? I need to stop assuming stupid things.”

  “Aye aye.” We clinked glasses and took our first drink. Molly’s face screwed up in displeasure but she plastered on a smile. “It’s...delicious.”

  “It tastes like battery acid,” I replied.

  Molly sniffed the repugnant beverage. “Smells like it too.” Then, with a shrug, she drained the rest of her glass.

  I couldn’t help but laugh.

  We moved our party to the living room, where I told Molly all about my new job and my surly manager. Sure, it was going to be tough fitting school in around my schedule, not to mention paying for it, but I could do it. Money would be tight, but what else would I spend it on anyway? Self-improvement was the best investment I could make.

  I went to bed an hour later, exhausted and a little tipsy from the world’s worst champagne. Though confidence was the new name of the game, once I was alone in the dark it was easy for my thoughts to slip somewhere a little less fun.

  I missed Nik. I hated how much I missed him. It had been two weeks since I met his fiancée and ended things forever, but he still found ways to sneak into my head when I wasn’t expecting it. Maybe this new job and my schooling would take up enough of my time and energy that my brain would no longer paint his face on the backs of my eyelids.