by Addison Fox
He’d spent the past few days thinking about the solution he was about to offer her and could only curse himself he hadn’t come up with it sooner. “Business partners. It makes sense.”
“I don’t need a business partner. My brothers and sister and I run the House of Steele as a family. We’re not selling.”
“I’m not suggesting anything of the sort, especially since I’ve no interest in selling or merging Andrews Holdings.”
The sharp set of her lips faded and the same shrewd sense—the one that had allowed Kensington to lead their family enterprise into a wildly successful business in a handful of years—took over. “What did you have in mind?”
“You and I went up against each other on the Rome job.”
“As well as Memphis, San Francisco and Hong Kong.”
He ignored the litany of their recent skirmishes, instead focusing on the reason he’d come. “I’m talking about Rome. I met with the Italian embassy on Monday and was smugly told I nearly didn’t get the assignment.”
“Why not?”
“I maintain a small firm, by choice. Seems the Italians were looking for something a bit more expansive. There was a fair amount of infighting among the selection committee before I gained the nod.”
“I still don’t see how this involves me.”
How did he explain it to her? He prided himself on reading his adversaries—and he typically put clients in that category until proven otherwise—but the meeting with the embassy’s staff had caught him unawares. “They’ve changed the scope of the assignment.”
“How so? It’s a pretty straightforward protection detail with a bit of snooping on the side. Eyes and ears on the ambassador and his surroundings on his upcoming diplomatic mission.”
“The Italians have begun to suspect Hubert Pryce of some unsavory practices.”
Confusion stamped itself immediately on her face, but underneath he saw the flicker of interest. It was subtle, he’d give her that, but it was there all the same. She leaned forward a bit more eagerly and a small spark lit that vivid gaze. “I’m not following. A host country has to accept an ambassador from another country and can, at any point, dissolve the relationship, declaring the diplomat persona non grata. It’s a basic tenant of the Vienna Convention.”
“The Italians think it would be worth their while to follow Ambassador Pryce for a bit longer.”
“Why? He comes from a small country in central Africa. If they’re concerned, and I can’t imagine why they are, they need to remove him from his post. They’re within their rights to do so and no explanations are needed.”
Jack briefly toyed with filtering the limited information he had but realized it was, at best, unfair and, at worst, dangerous to keep her in the dark. “Tierra Kimber may be small, but the country has seen incredible growth in the past decade as a major center for both diamonds and fashion.”
Kensington took a sip of her coffee, her expression thoughtful as that interest honed to a sharp point. “They’re not even a top-ten player in Italy’s economy. I realize Pryce’s family background is European and he’s spent considerable time cultivating a reputation across the region, but the Italian government is under no obligation to allow him to remain in Italy if they have any concerns whatsoever.”
“Hubert Pryce is the tip of the iceberg if what the Italians suspect him of is true.”
“And what’s that?”
“If they’re correct, he’s smuggling diamonds through the Italian wine trade.”
* * *
Kensington exhaled a harsh breath, shocked at Jack’s suggestion. “The man is incredibly well respected. What proof do the Italians have to even suggest something like this?”
Jack pulled a small tablet from his pocket and turned it on, flipping to a document before handing the device to her. Their fingers brushed momentarily and her gaze landed squarely on his at the contact. She swallowed hard as that intense, dark brown gaze captured hers.
Because she’d already overplayed her hand with the scrutiny, she decided to go for broke and look her fill. The hue of his eyes was a color match for his almost-black, close-cut hair. She saw some threads of gray at the temples and wondered at that. Her research indicated he was no more than thirty-six, but the lines at the corners of his eyes added to the gray, suggesting a man who worked and played hard.
“How much research did you do on Ambassador Pryce prior to the assignment?” Jack asked.
“I put together an extensive dossier. Although born in the small nation of Tierra Kimber, he’s from a well-respected European family and was educated in the United States. He spent his formative years at Choate, then on to Yale. He spent another decade in the U.S., working in the New York office of his family’s financial firm before returning to live in Tierra Kimber. His reputation is sterling.”
“Well, the Italians don’t think so. They’ve become increasingly convinced his interests aren’t quite on the up-and-up and that he’s been abusing his ambassadorship to move diamonds.” Jack pointed to the tablet. “Take a look at that document.”
She flipped through the various pages, immediately lost in a series of email exchanges that had obviously been intercepted and cobbled together. Although nothing about any individual email seemed off, taken as a whole it was more than obvious something was afoot. “An ambassador’s communications are protected. How’d they get these?”
“They didn’t share that information with me.”
A strange, unwelcome panic gripped Kensington, twisting her stomach into knots. “Jack. You shouldn’t have this.”
“They’re my client. What I probably shouldn’t be doing is sharing this with you.”
“No, I mean you shouldn’t have this. Pryce has full diplomatic immunity. He’s not subject to the same laws as others and possession of this communication is violating another basic tenant of the Convention.”
“It’s my job. Would have been your job had you won the bid.”
“We’d have stepped out of it.” Even as the words left her lips, she knew that wasn’t entirely true. She and her siblings had built their business taking on the jobs others didn’t want or weren’t capable of.
And connections like the Italian government—connections who needed outside help and who would sing the House of Steele’s praises for a job well-done—were always worth her time.
“You’d have really walked away?”
“I’d certainly have taken it to my family and we would have considered it as a team.”
“The buck stops with me at Andrews Holdings, which is why I have team members who act as operatives, not partners. I’m not walking away from the assignment, but I’m not bullheaded enough not to realize when I need help.”
“And you think I can provide that?”
“I know you can.”
The curiosity that had curled in her belly the moment she realized Jack Andrews was in her home rose another several notches. “What do you want from me?”
“Join me. Two pairs of eyes are better than one.”
“I’m not spying on Hubert Pryce.”
“Consider it a high-level investigation.”
Kensington knew full well she needed to let this go. She’d lost the bid and no matter how badly that galled her, she did not need to be brought in after the fact on a project that already had serious changes from the original brief—and international criminal implications.
And she especially needed to walk away because Jack’s offer had
her more than a little intrigued.
She hadn’t been in the field in quite some time, deferring the majority of their business to her siblings while running things back at home. Over the past few months that lack of activity had begun to chafe.
Her brother Campbell was the hacking wiz, but she had a special skill when it came to digging up information, following threads. Campbell knew how to get into a system, but she knew how to forensically audit that system forward and backward.
Money. Leads. Connections.
Her innate tenacity, stubborn will and a strange tendency toward little sleep had ensured she was more than adept at tugging on threads until she unraveled the right mix of details.
And although she could do plenty of digging from right here, safe and sound at home, she’d begun to fear the lack of action would make her soft. “How do the Italians plan to get around Ambassador Pryce’s own security detail? I’m sure his protection is considerable.”
“The Italians work in tandem with the Tierra Kimber government to ensure the safety of Pryce, his family and the staff he employs. When he’s in Italy, he’s under the protection of the Italian government.”
“And they’re proposing to just sneak you in?”
“Sneak us in, although it’s really not that sneaky. Pryce already knows several people are assigned to his protection and he’s expecting a mix of men and women. Much of his work takes place in more relaxed settings, and it helps to have pairs working together. We’ll mix and mingle as guests at his events, and we’re expected to function as knowledgeable members of his staff.”
“And you don’t think he’ll make both of us.”
“That’s why we’re not sneaking. We both run well-respected security operations that Pryce has likely heard of. He’ll know who we are from the get-go.”
“And you think that’ll be enough?”
“I know so.” That dark gaze evaluated her once more and Kensington couldn’t stop the light line of gooseflesh that tickled her skin.
This man did something to her.
But did she dare spend time in his company? Intimate time that would require them to become allies, working toward a common goal?
Could she really stay away?
* * *
Jack glanced around the inner sanctum that was Kensington Steele’s office. He’d imagined her repeatedly, here in her element, but now that he had a true picture of her work space he could see where his musings fell short.
In his mind’s eye she conducted business behind a small, delicate writing desk. Instead, the large cherrywood monstrosity she currently sat behind looked more as if it belonged in a ship captain’s office than that of a modern-day righter of wrongs.
Although he hadn’t imagined the desk correctly, he had pictured her space as neat, tidy and efficient and she didn’t disappoint.
“What’s that look for?” She glanced up from where she tapped on a few keys at the computer just before the gentle whir of her printer started up.
“I took you for the neat and orderly type.” He pointed toward the desk. “But I didn’t expect you’d sit behind a desk the size of a frigate.”
“How else do you think I can file everything and keep it neat and orderly? If I sat at a small desk, I’d have piles everywhere.”
“Fair point. It doesn’t change the fact that this isn’t quite how I imagined you.”
“You imagined me?” Delicate eyebrows arched over those expressive eyes.
“Several times.”
She opened her mouth, then closed it and shook her head.
“What is it?”
“Nothing.”
“Come on. We’re going to work together. You need to feel you can talk to me.”
“If, Jack. If we work together. I haven’t made a decision on that yet.”
He suspected she’d made up her mind and was simply analyzing how she was going to close the deal. “I thought it was when.”
Those eyebrows rose another fraction of an inch. “That’s exactly my point. I’ve not decided yet and your ridiculous insistence on flirting isn’t helping.”
“And here I thought it was a bit of fun.”
At the word fun the suspicion in her gaze turned decidedly unreceptive. “If you’re after a bit of sport then you’ve got the wrong girl.”
“I’m quite sure I’ve got the right girl.”
Her eyes widened as his words registered and Jack sensed he was in imminent danger of overplaying his hand. “Look. Whatever you need to decide isn’t going to be found in this office. Let’s get out and you can see my style. See how I work. If you’re not convinced we’d make a good team, then you can cut and run.”
“I never cut and run.”
“Prove it.”
Chapter 2
Prove it.
Jack’s words still rumbled around in her mind like the silver ball in a pinball machine, racing to and fro and ringing a hell of a lot of bells.
In for a penny, Steele.
“Why are we going to Midtown?” She snuggled into her coat, the blast of heat inside the car welcome after the frigid wind had chilled her as they hailed a cab at the top of her block.
“Come on. Don’t tell me a well-heeled city gal like yourself has never been to the diamond district?”
“I’ve been there. I remember going with my father years ago when he bought a present for my mother.”
“Then you can show me the ropes.” He shot a meaningful look at their cabbie, and she held any remaining questions. Whatever the man had up his sleeve didn’t lend itself to discussion in front of others.
The trip across town passed quickly and in moments they were back in the cold, moving at a fast clip through the steady throng of people that always filled the heart of the city’s business district.
“What are you hoping to find?” Her breath puffed out in a fluffy white cloud as they began to pass buildings with bright display windows and heavily padded doors.
“I want to ask a few questions.”
“Right. Because we’re just going to walk in and ask some of the savviest dealers in the world if the diamonds they’re selling are being smuggled.”
“That wasn’t quite what I had in mind.”
“So what are we going to do?”
His smile was broad—bordering on conspiratorial—before he gestured to a door up ahead. “I want to see how fast you are on your feet. Consider yourself suddenly affianced.”
“Excuse me?”
The heavy puff of breath that expanded on her words faded from view as Jack pulled her up to a cagelike door and hit the buzzer to be let through. His arm wrapped through hers as he pulled her close.
“Aren’t you excited, darling?”
In for a penny.... That crazy voice admonished her once more before a strange sense of fun and purpose filled her. She linked her arm more tightly with his and dropped her free hand to his chest. “Quivering with anticipation, Pookie.”
She had a moment of brief satisfaction when a sly grin filled his face before the door clicked open. Behind the bars of the door, they were greeted by an older, slender man dressed all in black. Another large man stood behind him at a respectful distance, the approach surprisingly similar to that of the security team she employed at the House of Steele. “May I help you?”
“We’d like to do some diamond shopping.” Jack hesitated a moment before he continued. “Larry Coleman suggested I visit your establishment.”
The mention of the mysterious “Larry Coleman” seemed to do the trick, and after a few basic pleasantries, the proprietor
pulled open the metal door and welcomed them in, gesturing for them to remove their coats. The large man never moved from his position behind the proprietor as another assistant stepped forward from a small alcove to take their coats. “We’re glad you’re here, Mr. Andrews. Ms. Steele. What are you looking for today?”
“The perfect engagement ring.” Jack’s proud voice echoed in her ear as he pulled her close once more. A strange little shiver gripped her. It was silly really seeing as they absolutely were not shopping for engagement jewelry—but the moment struck her as momentous all the same.
Shaking off the flutters, she moved farther into the narrow store, following the proprietor’s gesture before he turned to face them both at a long glass counter. “What did you have in mind?”
Jack squeezed her hand. “You’re on, baby.”
His expectant smile had her stumbling for the briefest moment before his words from earlier rang in her ears. I want to see how fast you are on your feet. “I’d love to look at something emerald cut.”
“Excellent choice. Your long, slender fingers will set off an emerald-cut stone to perfection.” The man stepped behind the counter and pulled out a tray of loose stones. She didn’t miss his subtle yet assessing glance at the two of them as he unlocked the jewelry case. “May I ask what number of carats you were considering?”
“Six.” Jack’s voice was deliberate when he spoke, and Kensington fought to keep her jaw firmly hinged.
“Darling. Isn’t that a bit elaborate?”
He pressed a quick kiss to her temple before whispering in her ear. “Not for you, my love.”
An errant shiver ran down her spine and Kensington pushed it away in the face of whatever charade Jack had cooked up for the visit. She knew her life had been one of distinct privilege—she could hardly claim otherwise—but a six-carat diamond was an extravagance she’d never even considered.
Even if it was all made up and only for show.
The proprietor blinked twice, the only sign Jack’s request had him ruffled, before tapping on the counter. “I’ll be right back.”
They stood close, their gazes bent over the counter as they waited for the man to return. She kept her voice low—a skill she’d honed to an art form years before with her siblings whenever they wanted to eavesdrop on their parents from the stairwells—and a smile firmly painted on her face for the security cameras that were no doubt recording them from four different angles. “You couldn’t have started with something a bit more modest?”