Dead Weight

by Kat Faitour

  “You dare,” he seethed. “You dare accuse me of immorality? Of being evil?” His ears pounded in time with his heartbeat. His vision clouded. “You, a goddamn, filthy Taylor,” he spat the name. “The only reason—the sole reason—we wanted your despicable stones was to end your company’s illegal practices.”

  “What?” Her voice seemed to come from far away. “What are you talking about?”

  Mason gulped, trying to moisten his parched throat. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, dizzying him with outrage. Margaux was a blur across the room.

  “The diamonds, Margaux.” He didn’t recognize his own voice, it was so laden with scorn. “They’re from a conflict mine.”

  “No,” she chanted. She held up both her hands, warding away his words.

  But he refused to stop. Not now. “Oh yes, sweetheart,” he needled. “They’re blood diamonds. I only wanted to keep them from going to market.” He inhaled, shoring his strength for what would be his final, fatal strike.

  “I’m evil?” he snorted.

  Margaux sank to the floor, her knees drawn up to her chin. Mason steeled himself.

  “Then you’re the fucking devil himself.”

  Chapter 9

  It took Margaux two days to screw up the courage to meet with her father. Finally, knowing she would find no peace otherwise, she chartered the Taylor jet to fly her to London.

  A company limousine picked her up at the private terminal to escort her to her father’s downtown offices. During the trip through London’s morning traffic, she had plenty of time to remember Mason and their disastrous confrontation.

  With a grim twist to her mouth, she looked out the window of the car but saw nothing of the familiar streets. If she could have lain down on the soft leather seat and slept for the next seven days, she would have heartily considered it.

  There was no rest for her since losing Mason. Despite the heavy fatigue weighing down her limbs, she couldn’t quiet her mind. Her appetite had vanished as soon as she’d left the estate. She couldn’t even get drunk. Whenever she tried, the wine soured her stomach, leaving her nauseated and sick.

  She knew she looked awful. God knows she felt the same.

  And she had no idea what to do about it.

  Margaux hurt.

  The pain of leaving Mason was more than she’d thought possible. Looking down at her clothing, she realized she’d chosen to wear black, and had every day since losing him.

  She grieved. And more than that, she mourned the man she thought he’d been. But that man had been a mirage. A fantasy he’d built and fostered so he would appeal to her.

  And it had worked. So well, in fact, that a dark melancholy had descended over her since she flew through the gates of his estate, hell bent on never setting eyes on him again.

  Mason Graff had lied, cheated, and deceived her from the very beginning.

  But that didn’t make him a murderer. With a certainty as deep as her bones, she knew Mason wouldn’t intentionally harm anyone. Especially not a woman.

  A sob threatened to break free, and she pressed a knuckle to her mouth, determined to keep the tears at bay. She’d cried more in the past two days than she ever had in her life. Even when she’d lost her beloved mother, she’d sealed the sadness in a deep place and pushed it down.

  Down, further and further, until the days became easier and the memories sweeter.

  But that wouldn’t work now. Her entire body ached like a bruise. And her mind was tortured.

  Every moment was filled with him. His voice echoed in her mind. His scent permeated her skin. And his touch haunted her, making her remember, again and again, how gentle he’d always been. How they’d fit, as if designed for each other.

  No, she couldn’t wall off the pain because she had no wish to do so. It was the only thing that pierced the numbness, the only feeling that reminded her she was still alive, even though inside her felt dead.

  She gasped as realization struck, far too late. She’d tiptoed around the truth for weeks, too cowardly to embrace it.

  She loved him. With every fiber in her body, she knew that now.

  And she’d called him a murderer.

  The car arrived at Taylor Diamond Corporation headquarters. Margaux took the chauffeur’s hand and allowed him to help her from the car, then stood outside the entrance of the building, staring upward.

  Mason had admitted to his original plan to steal the diamonds. It was bad enough, but in her heart, she didn’t believe him capable of anything beyond that. But if that were true, then her father was a liar. He’d betrayed not only her but the Taylor name, and particularly the people who suffered in conflict-mining regions.

  The choices tore at her insides. She desperately wanted to go back to believing both men were honorable and honest. Neither capable of the worst.

  But someone was. One couldn’t be innocent without the other’s guilt.

  Which led her to today, standing in front of the building she’d visited since she was a little girl. To the man she’d loved and respected even longer.

  Taking a deep breath, she walked through the doors and summoned an elevator to take her to her father’s offices.

  * * *

  “Why don’t we leave, get some lunch?”

  Margaux checked her watch. “Daddy, it’s not even eleven o’clock.”

  He tapped his fingers on his desk. “Fine. Late breakfast.” A vein pulsed in his forehead. “Or coffee.” He shook his head. “Whatever you want. I honestly don’t know why you’re here.”

  Margaux ignored the resulting sting and focused on his appearance instead. His face was pinched, and dark circles smudged the skin beneath his eyes. His flesh seemed looser, as if he’d lost weight.

  He looked worse than her. And she’d hardly slept in three days.

  She leaned forward, biting her lip, as she pressed her hands against the front of his desk. Her pulse beat a rapid tattoo, visible in the veins tracing her wrists. She wished she didn’t have to do this.

  “I came to talk to you about the recent batch of diamonds.” She drew her eyebrows together. “The ones I brought back from South Africa.”

  “What about them?” he asked. He straightened, perking up. “Don’t tell me there’s a problem, Margaux. Another delay and I’ll be forced to reconsider your position in the company.”

  “Don’t worry, I’m already doing that for you,” she bit out. His brow furrowed, as if he was confused. Or wary. “What is it, Daddy?” she asked. “You’ve been different. Distracted for months.” She smoothed her blouse, worrying one of the shell buttons. “You never even asked if I was okay after the attempted robbery.” She paused, thinking. A deep and heavy dread was settling in her stomach. “Did you remember to send regrets to Andrew’s family?”

  He picked up a pen and clutched it between the fingers of both hands. Margaux was surprised it didn’t snap in half, considering how hard he was gripping it. A muscle worked in his jaw, but he didn’t speak.

  “Please. Tell me what’s wrong.” Anxiety pitched her voice higher than usual.

  “You’re wasting my time.” The indictment shot from his lips as he opted to go on offense. “Why are you here?”

  Margaux leaned back in her chair and pushed her shoulders back until her posture was ramrod straight. Raising her chin, she looked directly into her father’s eyes. “I’m here because I learned the diamonds I picked up in Johannesburg aren’t from our mines.” She waited one beat, closely watching her father. “They’re conflict diamonds.”

  “Nonsense,” her father barked. But he averted his eyes and pulled at his collar. Shifting, he turned his body so it was angled away from her.

  He was lying. And Mason had told the truth, at least about this.

  Taylor Corporation was dealing in blood diamonds.

  Nausea bubbled up, burning her throat and making her swallow compulsively until the threat of being sick passed.

  She shoved back her chair and stood.

  “Sit down.” But
her father stood as well. The skin around his mouth was blanched white, his cheeks mottled and ruddy. “I can explain.”

  “No, you can’t.” Her voice shook with the power of their shame. “There is nothing you could say to excuse this. Or possibly justify it.”

  “I’m broke,” he blurted. “We’re broke. Bankrupt unless the auction brings premium prices.”

  “Dear God,” she breathed. Her knees gave out, so she dropped back into her chair. “This is about money? How is that even possible?”

  For as long as she’d been alive, the coffers of Taylor Corporation had brimmed full with an endless supply of wealth. It was unfathomable that the company accounts could have been drained to this extent. “How?” she repeated.

  Her father slumped. “Poor investments. Bad choices.” His glance darted off hers, and she knew he was talking about Melanie. Since marrying, their lifestyle had grown more and more lavish. “And mines that are drying up by the day.”

  His voice cracked on the last, and he looked old and tired. Margaux felt the ice encasing her heart crack. He was still her father, and she loved him. “Oh, Daddy. What are we going to do?”

  He flushed and bit his lip. “I want to sell the company. Retire.” He reached into one of his desk drawers and pulled out a roll of antacids. Peeling off three, he popped them into his mouth. One look at Margaux had him holding out the rest to her.

  She took two and swallowed them whole, not even bothering to chew.

  “Okay,” she said. They had other assets beside the mines. “Do you have buyers?”

  “Yes.” He was talking fast. “But their offer is conditional on how well your lot sells.”

  “No.”

  He crossed his arms over his stomach and took a deep, pained breath while closing his eyes. When he opened them again, Margaux knew the worst was yet to come.

  “If you stop the diamonds from being sold, we’re ruined. We’ll lose everything, Margaux. There will be nothing left of our family’s legacy. Generations of Taylors have worked in the diamond business. But it will be us—you and me—who drove the business into the ground.”

  “Don’t put this on me, Father.” Margaux gripped the arms of her chair until her knuckles showed white. When had he become so weak? Is this all that was left of the man who’d raised her? “This failure is yours. Your extravagance put us here.”

  “It’s so easy for you, isn’t it Margaux? All your life you’ve accepted the privilege and wealth that came with being a Taylor as your birthright.”

  “It was my birthright,” she shot back. “As it was yours.”

  He huffed out his breath. “It’s gone. And it’s not productive for us to sit here and bicker.” He sighed. “You have to let the stones go to auction. I’m asking for myself. And Melanie.”

  She turned her head from the plea in his eyes. A bitter kind of anguish uncurled itself, stabbing and scratching her insides raw. She wasn’t sure how much more she could stand.

  “Please. I’m begging.” He pressed his palms flat against the top of his desk. “I know that what I did was unconscionable. But the stones will make their way into the market regardless. They all do.”

  She gaped. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

  “No, but it’s the truth. The diamond trade is corrupt. Nothing we do or don’t do changes that one, incontrovertible fact. So, I’m asking you to let this slide. Removing it won’t make a dent in the sea of diamonds making their way to market from conflict mines. But it will make all the difference to me and Melanie, especially with the sale of the large, flawless stone.” He reached across the desk but stopped short of touching Margaux. “And you too, if you let it.”

  Margaux recoiled. “I don’t want a dime of that money.”

  Her father had the audacity to smile, a tiny crack in his demeanor. Her words, rather than bringing shame, gave him confidence Margaux would relent. “So you’ll consider it?”

  She shot to her feet and was at the door before he could protest. When Margaux looked back one final time, he was still sitting at his desk, looking chagrined yet hopeful.

  She never answered.

  * * *

  Margaux closed the door of her apartment, kicked off her shoes, then leaned back against the wall in an exhausted slump. In one day, she’d flown to London, confronted her father, then flown back to Antwerp.

  If she could sleep for a solid week, she would. She twisted, turning the deadbolt to lock the door, then pushed away from the threshold. She would shower, pour herself a glass of wine, and bury her head in a book. For the first time, she wished she had a cat. She missed Mason’s collection of animals.

  Especially Sherman.

  The big, silly horse had snuck into her heart as surely as his owner had. And when she’d left, she hadn’t even stopped to tell him goodbye.

  She chased away the thought, swearing under her breath. If she allowed herself to wander down that road, she’d be at Mason’s doorstep, begging for another chance.

  And she was tempted enough to do just that without the added incentive of Sherman.

  “Tut, tut, darling. Language.”

  Margaux whirled around. “Jesus, Julian,” she yelled. She pressed her hand over her heart, while her breath thundered in and out of her lungs. In an instant, she was transported back to the evening of the attempted robbery in Johannesburg. She perspired, feeling the heat and humidity. The taste of blood flooded her mouth, even though she had no injury. Her head pounded. She could even smell the street food, coupled with the vague smell of chemical detergent.

  “Margaux?”

  She’d squeezed her eyes shut, forcing the memory back into its box. “Give me a minute.” She braced her hands on her knees and counted her breaths. After several long moments, she looked up. “How did you get in?”

  Julian frowned, his brow wrinkling in confusion. “You gave me a key. A long time ago.”

  “Oh, right.” She waved away his concern. “Of course.” She straightened. “I’m sorry. I’m not good with being caught off-guard since Johannesburg.”

  If anything, Julian’s frown deepened, and he looked down at his feet. “I didn’t realize you were affected this way.”

  She sighed. “It’s nothing. Really.” She thought of her plan to take a shower, drink wine, and read. “I have to be honest, Jules. I’m tired. And I’m not sure I’m capable of much more today.” Her pulse had finally slowed to a reasonable rate. She walked toward the kitchen, motioning him to follow. She’d have the wine first, then shower after Julian left. “What do you need?”

  “Your father called. Asked if I would check in on you.”

  Margaux stared. “Did he tell you about our meeting?”

  “He said you flew to London today to talk to him. And you flew back to Belgium less than two hours later. He said you were upset.”

  “Upset?” she laughed. “That’s an understatement.”

  Julian settled on a stool at the kitchen island. Reaching across the counter, he slid the wine glasses she’d set out toward him. When she pushed the bottle of red his way, he took it and filled each of their glasses.

  “Tell me what happened.”

  “It’s the stones,” she said. “The latest lot from South Africa.” She stood opposite Julian with the island between them. Wordlessly, he patted the stool next to his, but she shook her head, preferring to stand. “We can’t sell them.”

  He froze, the glass of wine suspended midway to his lips. He carefully set it down.

  “Why not?”

  “Because they’re not from our mines.” She leaned over the island, her voice lowered to a hush. “They’re blood diamonds.”

  Where it was lying on the counter, Julian’s hand balled into a fist. “I see.” He matched her tone, but his jaw knotted as he clenched his teeth. “And for you, that means they can’t be sold.”

  She stood straight. “Me and the entire diamond industry, including company participants in the Kimberley Process, which we are.”

&nbs
p; Julian set his wine down on the counter so hard that wine sloshed to the edges of its rim. Margaux was surprised the stem didn’t snap in half.

  “Come on, Margaux,” he sneered. “You don’t honestly believe the shit you’re spouting, do you?”

  Affronted, she said, “Why not?”

  “The Kimberley Process is a joke. We won’t be the first ones to circumvent it by bringing conflict-region stones to the market.”

  Carefully, she set her own wine glass on the island. “Are you saying you knew?”

  “No,” he simply said. “But it didn’t take a genius to figure out the Taylor mines have been rapidly depleting. All you had to do was measure recent lots against ones from two years ago. Hell, one year ago.”

  “And this doesn’t bother you? That my father decided to pass off blood diamonds for ones ethically mined?”

  “Ethically mined?” Julian snorted. “Since when is that such a thing?” He shook his head, his gaze pitying. “The diamond industry has never caused anything but death and destruction to those sorry enough to have mines in their countries. Nothing has changed. And nothing ever will.”

  Margaux slapped her hand on the cold marble surface of the island. “I’ll be damned if I lie down and accept that. I can at least stop one batch from being sold.” She curled her lip. “And I will.”

  Julian’s face contorted into something truly ugly. He swept his arm in a wide arc, sending the glasses and wine bottle to shatter on the tile floor. “You will not,” he roared.

  Margaux backed up, frightened. As far as she knew, Julian didn’t have a temper. But this fight was too important to concede. And he wouldn’t hurt her. She knew that.

  “I will. There’s nothing you or my father or anyone else can do about it. And why do you care so much anyway? This has nothing to do with you.”

  He circled the island, avoiding the broken glass. Red wine was spattered in an arc across the cabinets, like arterial spray.