Dead Weight

by Kat Faitour

  But, of course, Margaux chose a public place to finally drop her guard.

  He laughed, surprising himself. When she started to pull away, he grabbed her close and stole another kiss. Then he patted her butt, shooing her toward the owner.

  “Let’s do this deal. Then we can arrange for…?” he paused, meaningfully staring at the horse. But Margaux tucked her tongue into her cheek and shook her head.

  “Not telling.”

  “What if we find out he already has a name?”

  Margaux looked from him back to the animal. A silent message seemed to pass from horse to woman.

  “He doesn’t.” She threw her arm around Mason and urged him to keep walking toward the owner. Fresh faced without a speck of make-up, Mason had never thought her more beautiful. “Stop stalling and finish the deal.” She checked her watch. “You said you have a conference call this afternoon.”

  Mason checked his own wrist. “You’re right. Sure you don’t want to tell me the name? I could have it added to the purchase papers.”

  “I’ll tell you as soon as he arrives home and he’s truly ours.”

  Her words were like a jolt, setting up a flutter in his belly. A two-ton, ugly draft horse had sneaked through Margaux’s defenses, cracking the outer shell wide.

  And with that, Mason’s felt his own heart stumble and begin to fall.

  * * *

  Mason tapped his fingers on the desktop as he impatiently glanced at the closed door to his office. It was late afternoon and Margaux was in the stables with Thomas, getting a stall ready for the horse they’d adopted. He would be delivered the next day.

  “So she’s there with you? At your house?”

  Hope’s question brought his gaze back to the computer screen. Clara had insisted on Mason gathering the Orphans. She said they deserved to know how the original plans had changed regarding the Taylor lot of diamonds. And since he could hardly invite them over without unwanted explanations to his current houseguest, he should host a video conference call instead.

  He’d intended it to be quick, but so far, the others weren’t cooperating. As was typical, Noor was quiet, but Hope and Cullen had questions.

  “Yes, she’s here.”

  “So let me get this straight,” Cullen interrupted. “You went to South Africa. You failed to steal the diamonds. Instead, you developed a friendship with Margaux Taylor. But somehow this friendship,” the word came out as a sneer, “has brought you no closer to the stones. Rather than use her trust as a means to gain access, you’ve allowed her to stay at your house and use your safe to store the lot. Sounds cozy, Mason, but not exactly helpful.”

  Mason frowned. “Cool the attitude, Cullen. I have a plan.”

  “Then please, for fuck’s sake, clue us in.”

  “I would have stolen the diamonds…”

  “Save your excuses for Ruby. She knew she should be the one to go.”

  “That’s enough,” Mason barked. He gritted his teeth and took a deep breath. Now was not the time for him to let Cullen get under his skin. “I’ll cut to the chase. The diamonds are here, with Margaux, in my home. I’m working on convincing Ms. Taylor to allow us—or what she thinks of as my team—to do the cuts and prepare the lot for auction.”

  “Wait,” Hope interjected. “So she knows you run a lab that produces synthetics?”

  Mason winced. “Please don’t call them that. You know it’s not an accurate term.” He sighed. “But yes. She knows we grow diamonds. She seems to be genuinely curious about the process.”

  Traditional mining families opposed lab-grown diamonds, sometimes with surprising vehemence. Overall, the industry bent backwards to discredit the alternative method of obtaining diamonds, despite its advantages.

  Mason panned his eyes from Cullen to Hope then Noor. Clara was away, no doubt on her mission to find Ruby, who was also absent.

  “I will convince her to use our lab. Your jobs,” he pointed and Hope and Cullen, “will be to act like normal employees. Do not mention our personal relationship or breathe a word about anything other than diamond cuts and polishing.”

  “No shit.” Cullen was still sullen.

  Mason smiled humorlessly. “We’ll do a switch. We’ll use what we have in stock to replace what we can. We might need to grow some of the substitutes. It’s a large batch of stones.”

  “It will be imperative to assess the mined stones as quickly as possible.” Hope’s voice was quietly serious.

  And she was correct. The process for growing diamonds was faster than it used to be but still required time. Plus, there was no guarantee of end results, so the potential for multiple attempt cycles was possible, if not inevitable. Everything depended on what was in the original lot. If it was a bunch of fairly average stones, none too large or flawless, then their task was easier. If not, things could become even more complicated.

  “I have a question.” Everyone turned to Noor, surprised. She worked in appraisals, certifications, and sales. She attended all the Orphans’ meetings, but unless their plans affected one of her areas of expertise, she usually kept quiet and listened.

  Mason nodded. “Go ahead.”

  “Why not just tell her the stones are conflict diamonds?”

  Noor’s simple question practically opened a chasm at Mason’s feet. A chill shivered up his spine, sending the hair at the nape of his neck standing on end. He shifted, sending his chair scraping against the floor. The truth was ugly and uncomfortable. And it was staring him straight in the face.

  “You don’t trust her.”

  He grimaced, shifting his attention to Hope. “It’s not that.” A fine sheen of sweat broke out on his forehead, and he mopped it away with his sleeve. “Not exactly.” He glanced back at the closed door, trying not to feel penned in. “Look, I’ll admit I have feelings for her. But I don’t want that to cloud my judgment.” He dragged his hands through his hair. “If I confided in her but was wrong about her involvement, it could risk our entire operation. And all of you. And I could never do that. Never.”

  A stunned silence greeted his statements.

  Finally, Noor stepped into the void with her typical grace. “Okay. So let’s move on.” Her voice was warm. Her tone caring. “In the beginning, we discussed a switch but dismissed the idea because it didn’t solve the underlying problem. Taylor Corporation is using a conflict mine instead of one of their own. How do we stop them in the future if they think they got away with it this time?”

  Mason swallowed. His solution, once suggested so casually to Clara, now stuck in this throat. “We leak the truth about the diamonds. Once the industry thinks Taylor Corporation tried to pass off grown diamonds for mined, their reputation will be in tatters. Effectively, it will ruin them.”

  “Mason,” Hope chided.

  Suddenly, he was angry and defensive. “Hope. I care about Margaux. But we can’t make the mistake of feeling sorry for Taylor Corporation. They’ve made millions off the backs of Africans. And still they want more.” He was breathless, and his muscles quivered, like he wanted to get up and start running. “They do not deserve your consideration. They sure as hell don’t deserve your compassion.” He punctuated his statement with a hard fist to his desk.

  The pause only lasted for a second.

  “But Margaux does.” Noor’s voice was soft but serious. “You don’t believe she knows they’re conflict diamonds. So what you’re suggesting will not only hurt her, but ruin her career.”

  As usual, Noor delved straight to the heart of the matter. And it was the same sticking point that kept Mason awake at night, long after Margaux fell asleep in his arms and bed.

  “Let me worry about Margaux.”

  “That’s your problem, Mason.” Cullen chimed in, his voice subdued from what it had been. “You think you can do all the planning, and worrying, and thinking for everyone. But you can’t feel for us.” He sighed. “And you can’t hurt for Margaux. Not when you’re the cause of it.”

  And for that, Mason had no
answer.

  * * *

  “Are you nervous?”

  Mason seemed to visibly start when she asked the question. Then he smiled. “No, why?”

  “Because you’ve been holding the handle of that door for at least thirty seconds.” Grinning, Margaux placed her hand over his and pushed down. The door swung open. “You talked me into this, so now you must show me around. Introduce me to your team.”

  The unfamiliar surroundings were enough to make her think of the labs in Antwerp, as well as the one she’d left in Johannesburg. And then her thoughts flew to Andrew.

  And Julian, who she hadn’t heard from yet today.

  Her mood sobered.

  Mason took her elbow and led her through the doorway.

  Mason’s laboratory and cutting teams were housed in a small brick commercial building in downtown Antwerp. Like any lab, it was bright, functional, and pristine. Unlike her labs—or any she’d seen—this one housed a microwave plasma reactor capable of growing diamonds via chemical vapor deposition, or CVD.

  Margaux was familiar with working in a laboratory. But this went beyond anything she knew or could identify with. She was reminded that Mason was no average man.

  He was a genius with a doctorate degree in chemical engineering. And a magnificent lover.

  Margaux pivoted in a slow circle, taking it all in. By the time her eyes fell back to Mason’s, he was smiling.

  “Impressive, isn’t it?”

  “Quite.” She was referring to him, of course, rather than the surroundings. She’d make her admiration clear later, when they were in bed. Feeling cheeky, she offered him a knowing, sultry smile. The apples of his cheeks flushed a dull red in response.

  She bit her lip to keep from smirking. At least she wasn’t the only one. He couldn’t seem to get enough of her either.

  But first, work. She’d been badgering him for weeks to show her his lab. Now that she was here, she wanted him to know her interest was genuine. Her gaze drifted to the reactor. “How does it work?”

  It was a question that would take more than thirty minutes for Mason to answer, and even then she felt he skimmed over most of the details. Basically, he started with a diamond seed that was placed in the reactor where hydrogen and methane gases were introduced. The gases were then energized—or activated—with microwave-induced plasma to induce diamond crystal growth.

  Whatever the hell any of that meant.

  Margaux eyes practically glazed over with lust. God help her, but she’d discovered a brilliant man who was also sexy as hell. Or maybe he was sexier because he was brilliant.

  Who the hell cared?

  The combination was practically fatal to her heart rate. As he continued to explain the process, his face was animated, his eyes a brighter shade of green. He gestured with his hands, attempting to explain the physics and chemistry involved. Margaux’s brain glossed over the science but found the man mesmerizing.

  As he talked about the virtues of growing diamonds over mining them, she shook herself alert. He was passionate. Intense. And more than a little righteous.

  A true believer.

  After a while, she shifted, beginning to feel out of place and awkward. It was as if he’d forgotten who she was. And that she came from one of the most established diamond mining families in the business. No matter what she felt for Mason, she also loved her father.

  When his explanation began to wind down, she smiled brightly.

  “Can I meet your team?”

  He seemed locked in place for a second but then moved forward, halting when he reached a door. “Two of my best are here, Hope and Cullen. They oversee the blocking, cuts, and polishing. In my opinion, they’re the finest in the business.”

  Mason was loyal. Margaux could appreciate that, even as she assumed he’d overstated their expertise. After all, why would the best of the best be working with synthetics?

  She swallowed the question.

  They entered another room clearly intended for processing gemstones. State-of-the-art lasers sat beside tables containing saws and disc cutters. An entire wall was lined with polishing wheels. Ergonomic chairs were scattered around the stations, and computers dotted two rows of desks in the middle of the space. Margaux looked at Mason.

  “My God,” she breathed. “De Beers has nothing on you.”

  He laughed. “Wait until you meet the team.”

  He led her to another door. This one opened into a traditional, shared office. It contained a dark wood conference table on one end and facing draft tables on the other. The walls were covered with awards, accolades, and press releases.

  Margaux quickly scanned the plaques, noting they’d won some of the most globally prestigious honors possible. She smothered a gasp, quickly realizing Mason hadn’t been exaggerating.

  His team was good, possibly the best.

  Two people entered the room, a man and woman. The man was tall and fair with light-brown hair tipped by the sun. His eyes were a striking shade of pale gold, like a tiger’s. Beside him, the woman was almost his match in coloring, but with all the vibrancy muted.

  She was medium height, her short, bobbed hair a mousy blonde. Her face was pleasant, if unremarkable. Her eyes were dull brown, a bit like mud.

  But then she smiled, and her face transformed. There was a lack of guile, a friendly openness that drew Margaux like a magnet. Instinctively, she clasped the other woman’s outstretched hand in greeting.

  The woman spoke first. “Hi, I’m Hope. Hope Junot. I cut and polish, usually at the pleasure of this brute.” She poked out a thumb, pointing at the handsome man by her side.

  Another hand dropped in front of Margaux, and she took hold.

  “Cullen Callahan.” He dipped his head over her hand in an old-fashioned, courtly gesture. “At your service.”

  Margaux blushed, surprising herself, and maybe Mason too. His eyes ran over the both of them, then narrowed on Cullen.

  “You can release the lady. No need to keep her captive.”

  “Of course.” Cullen let go of her hand, but not before Margaux saw a devilish twinkle in his tawny eyes.

  She waited a beat, but Mason continued to glower at Cullen. “Well, I’m Margaux Taylor. I work for Taylor Diamond Corporation.” She nodded in Mason’s direction. “Mason has been kind enough to offer me a tour.”

  “Ah, you’re one of them.” Cullen ignored Mason and looped his arm through Margaux’s as if they hadn’t only just met. “Allow me to take over. I’m a much more charming tour guide.”

  She couldn’t help but laugh. Cullen Callahan was a poster boy for Irish charisma. It didn’t matter that she was wildly crazy about Mason. Margaux Taylor was a sucker for a charmer. She promptly decided to ignore Mason, even though she was certain the younger man was just winding him up.

  Besides, being in love didn’t mean she was dead. Or blind.

  And who said she was in love?

  She pushed the sneaky thought away and patted Cullen’s arm. “Lead the way.”

  Mason followed alongside Hope. Margaux could practically feel the irritation pulsing from him, but she would be damned if she’d cater to it. After all, he knew full well she’d be going home with him. That should be enough.

  If eyes were lasers, he’d have bored a hole straight through her back. In an effort to deflect his attention, she asked, “The amount of press and awards you’ve received for your work is impressive.” Margaux waved her hand, indicating the lab. “And the facilities are equally remarkable.”

  “Thank you, you’re very kind.”

  Margaux looked back to see Hope beaming at her. Mason glared.

  “So I can’t help but ask why you work on synthetics. Isn’t that a waste? Why not use your talents on real diamonds?”

  A deadly silence settled over the group. Cullen’s arm tensed beneath hers as he pulled her to a halt.

  Then everyone seemed to be talking.

  “What did I say?” she asked.

  “They are real,” from Hop
e.

  “Because they’re not equal, they’re better,” from Cullen.

  Only Mason maintained his silence while his eyes burned black and raked her from head to toe.

  Nausea soured Margaux’s stomach. She’d destroyed the easy camaraderie with her careless insensitivity. Julian was right about her. She was thoughtless. Inconsiderate.

  Mason held up his hand, effectively terminating the babble.

  “My diamonds are not synthetics,” he ground out. “They’re chemically identical to the ones your company carves out of the ground, scarring the land along with its workers.” He inhaled, seeming to grow taller. “Do you want to know the real difference between our diamonds and yours?”

  Margaux shook her head, a tiny movement in the face of his offended dignity. She really, really didn’t want to know what came next.

  But Mason didn’t care what she wanted. He leaned forward, and his voice was deep and controlled.

  “Ours don’t have blood on them.”

  * * *

  Margaux was fuming. She’d stalked out of Mason’s lab and returned to her home in downtown Antwerp. It was past time she checked on her things and watered her plants. She stormed through the rooms of her apartment, convincing herself she was well rid of Mason Graff and his insulting self-righteousness.

  If she was so offensive, why did he want to work with her? Oh, he’d been subtle. His persuasion was slow and steady, but nonetheless relentless. The way a river cut a gorge.

  Even before she’d seen the quality of his facilities and staff, Margaux had half convinced herself to hire his team to process her diamonds.

  But one careless, unthinking comment on her part—which she had regretted as soon as spoken—and he’d turned on her with biting condemnation.

  Well, enough was enough.

  He may have the best cutters and polishers in Antwerp. Hell, his diamonds might be higher quality than those she’d brought back from South Africa. And God knows he’d confronted her with enough painful truths about diamond mining to make her think hard about whether her family’s company was still on the right side.

  But they were also lovers. And if he thought so lowly of her, then he had no business bringing her to his home. And she had no business staying.