Daddy's Precious Jewel (Claimed By Daddy Book 1)

by Polly Carter

  “Well, the brooch is clearly not here, is it? And I can’t think of any other explanation. Can you?”

  Miserably, Pearl shook her head. “Perhaps I accidentally moved it to another display case. I’ll check.”

  “Don’t bother.” Marcie held out her arm to stop Pearl going anywhere. “I have already done a thorough search. I’m afraid I can’t have you in the shop any longer until the brooch is found or there is an acceptable explanation as to where it’s gone. Fetch your bag, please.”

  With no choice but to obey, Pearl collected her bag.

  “I have no idea where the brooch is, I promise. I didn’t take it.”

  “Show me your bag,” Marcie ordered, tipping the contents out when Pearl handed it over.

  Even though there was no way Pearl could imagine how the brooch could have found its way into her bag, a wave of relief washed over her when there was no sign of it.

  “Perhaps you had an accomplice come in while I was out,” Marcie said grimly.

  “I didn’t take it. Honestly, Miss Jones,” she pleaded. “Please, check the CCTV. You’ll see I didn’t go near the cabinet.”

  “Very well,” Marcie agreed, but she quickly returned shaking her head. “Well, it seems the CCTV has been tampered with. The tape was removed, so it’s not recording.”

  “No! I didn’t!” Pearl said, shaking with disbelief that this could be happening.

  “The jewellery in here is too valuable for me to take any risks. I am afraid I’m going to have to let you go. Should the brooch mysteriously reappear I shan’t call the police, but I can no longer have you working here. I should not have trusted you. I gave you a wonderful opportunity by employing you, but that was obviously a mistake. I’m so disappointed. I think you should leave. I’ll work out what is owed to you up until this time today and transfer it into your account.”

  “I’m not a thief,” Pearl insisted. “Please don’t fire me. I’ve done nothing wrong. I love my job.”

  “I’m sorry, Miss Sinclair. I love my job too, and I wouldn’t keep it long if I failed to take action to protect the jewellery. I think you should just leave quietly. I’m already doing you a huge favour by not calling the police immediately. I’ll give you forty-eight hours to return the brooch before informing head office, who will not hesitate to hand you over to the authorities and have you charged. If you are too embarrassed to bring it in yourself, you can put it in a white envelope and have a friend discreetly leave it behind the counter. If I find it there, I’m prepared to forget the whole matter. But I suggest you don’t get another job in a jewellery shop if you can’t avoid the temptation. Off you go. Forty-eight hours remember.”

  “I can’t return the brooch in forty-eight hours or forty-eight years because I didn’t take it,” Pearl said, her sense of injustice giving her the courage to look her boss in the face despite having to fight against tears. “This is so unfair.”

  Marcie picked up her phone. “Leave, Miss Sinclair, and I don’t want to ever see you in this shop again. Have someone else bring the brooch in. You are no longer welcome here. Leave, please, unless you’d prefer I call the police.”

  Pearl stared at her in utter disbelief. Without the slightest warning, her world had suddenly crumbled. Not only was she unfairly being accused of being a thief, she had lost the job she loved, and worst of all if she was no long working at Mon Addi there was no chance she would ever see Marcus Holding again. She could feel her lip begin to tremble, and the tears filling her eyes were dangerously close to spilling over and running down her cheeks, but there was no way Marcie Jones would see her cry. She quickly shoved her things into her bag, held her head up and walked out of the shop.

  Chapter 4

  Marcus

  Marcus drove through the huge iron gates that mysteriously opened as he approached and into the big, wide driveway of the mansion he shared with his mother. He parked his Jaguar in its garage, collected his bag and let himself into the self-contained, two-bedroom apartment situated across a large lawn from the rest of the house.

  He was glad to be home at last. When his mother told him she needed him to sort out a problem at their logistics business’s head office, it was supposed to be a three-day trip, a week at the absolute most, but as soon as he’d been ready to return, she’d called and asked him to sort out a problem at one of the Holding Corporation’s mines first.

  In both cases, Marcus could see no reason why the issues couldn’t have been dealt with via conference call. He suspected it was a ploy to keep him out of the way for a while. Women’s intuition and, especially his mother’s intuition, never failed to amaze him. He’d barely mentioned Pearl and yet he was sure she had sensed danger and decided to meddle.

  She couldn’t keep him away from Pearl forever, though. He was planning a shower, a feed, a good night’s sleep and then a visit to Mon Addi in the morning.

  Laying on his bed after his shower, a towel across his groin and the diamond collar beside him, he grinned as he transformed the towel into a tent picturing himself standing in front of a kneeling, naked Pearl, her freshly-spanked bottom warm and rosy. It was only one of many scenarios he had in mind for the delectable jewel, and he was impatient to get started. That she wouldn’t want to participate simply had not occurred to him. He knew in his heart that Pearl, whether she was aware of it or not, had a submissive Little girl inside and it wouldn’t be long before she was calling him Daddy.

  The following morning Linda seemed no less intent on controlling his time, no doubt to keep him away from Mon Addi, but he was having none of it.

  “But I need you in the office,” she said, when he joined her at breakfast to debrief from his trip and told her he was planning to have the day off.

  “Do you though?” he retorted. “We are paying people millions of dollars. Why, if they can’t attend to whatever you think needs doing so urgently?”

  “For goodness’ sake, Marcus!” she scolded him. “You’re not a little boy. One day, and it won’t be long, you will be in charge of the entire family business. The only way it will continue to grow is if you commit the necessary time and effort. Not taking days off like a schoolboy wagging school.”

  “Hardly fair, Mother. I just did over two weeks straight. Not even a Sunday off while I was traipsing about the country at your order. I think I’ve earned a day off, and I don’t think the massive Holding conglomerate will collapse if I take one.” His tone was light, but his eyes were glinting.

  “Oh very well,” she conceded, waving her hands in dramatic surrender. “How about we compromise and you come to the office with me now, but leave early? I do need to go through the Rambolan contracts with you. I was supposed to get them out by last Friday but you have to check them first.”

  It was Marcus’s turn to admit defeat. “If you insist,” he agreed ungraciously. “I’ll come with you this morning, but I am leaving as soon as we’re done.”

  “Of course, darling,” his mother purred, sipping the cream off her coffee.

  “No, I’m leaving right now,” Marcus told his mother firmly at half-past three, as she tried to get him to start a fresh task. Ignoring her pleas and demands, he tidied his desk and left. He’d been close to throttling his mother for deliberately delaying him all day. But she was wasting her time. He was going to see Pearl today, and no one and nothing was going to stop him!

  He was as eager as a schoolboy with a first crush as he walked briskly up the pavement to Mon Addi. Pausing to collect himself before going in, he peered through the glass door, his eyes searching for a small blonde with big brown eyes and a soft, sweet expression. He didn’t see her. He searched again, but he could still only see Marcie and a very pregnant Leah, the assistant before Pearl.

  Barging in, his eyes swept the room for a third time, still sure he must have just missed seeing her.

  “Marcus!” Marcie greeted him, taking hold of his arm. “What a nice surprise! Visiting us again so soon.”

  “Hey, Marcie.” Marcus voice was coo
l and wary as he ignored her fluttering eyelashes. “Where’s Pearl?”

  “Pearl doesn’t work here any longer,” Marcie answered silkily.

  “What do you mean? Why not? What happened? Did she resign? Where has she gone?”

  Marcie’s eyes narrowed and her brow furrowed further with each of his questions.

  “She left. I have no idea where she is. Gone home to the farm in the small nowhere town she came from, I expect.”

  “Why did she leave? Did you have anything to do with it, Marcie?” Marcus had pulled himself up to his full height and was glaring down at Marcie with a thunderous face.

  “Marcus, really,” Marcie replied in a soothing voice as she patted his arm, “what on earth do you mean? Why would I have had anything to do with it? What could I have had to do with it?”

  Pulling his arm away from her hand, Marcus glared at her. “She must have given a reason for resigning. And didn’t she work out her notice? How long have you been back, Leah?” he called suddenly to the young lady who was watching them in surprise.

  “Nearly two weeks, sir,” she answered. “Marcie asked me if I could lend a hand until she could find a replacement for the girl who left.”

  “I see.” He smiled at her, adding, “Oh, and congrats on the baby.”

  “Thanks,” she replied, returning his smile and stroking her swollen belly.

  “So, Pearl left pretty much immediately after I was here last?” His question was addressed to Marcie, who shrugged and moved away, but Marcus noticed her face blushing and her hands trembling. He moved in front of her and blocked her path so she had to face him.

  “What happened, Marcie? Why did she leave? I got the distinct impression she was really enjoying her job.”

  “Come on, Marcus. My staff are my concern,” she retorted angrily. “Miss Sinclair is no longer in the employ of Mon Addi. End of story.”

  “Give me her phone number then,” he demanded.

  Dipping her head so she could look up at him, she pursed her lips in feigned regret and shook her head. “You know I can’t do that. Privacy laws and all.”

  “Damn!” He paused. “You call her then. Ask her if you can give me her phone number or give her mine.”

  “This is a jewellers, not a dating agency,” Marcie said, shaking her head. “But how about I close the shop early, and we continue this over a drink somewhere? My treat,” she offered.

  “We’re going nowhere until you tell me what happened and how I can contact her.”

  Marcie paused then held her hands up in mock surrender. “Okay, I wasn’t going to say anything for the sake of the girl’s dignity but as you are insisting, I had to let her go for stealing.”

  Marcus recoiled as though she’d struck him. “Stealing?” he barked. Then shook his head. “I don’t believe it. What is she supposed to have stolen and what proof did you have that it was her?”

  Marcie faced him squarely. “A brooch went missing. She was the only one who could have taken it. I fired her and told her that if she returned it in a white envelope within forty-eight hours I wouldn’t call the police. The next day a white envelope appeared behind the counter and the brooch was in it.”

  “She brought it in?”

  “Well, no. Not her personally. I didn’t think she’d have the guts to do that. I suggested to her that she could get someone else to do it for her. That must have been what she did. I didn’t see who it was. There was a period when we had a few clients in at the same time and, after they’d all left, I saw it behind the counter.”

  “Nope,” Marcus said, shaking his head and frowning. “I don’t believe it, and I don’t know what game you’re playing either, but I want to know where Pearl is. You will give me her address, or everyone at Holding Corporation will be moving their business to another jeweller. I’ve no doubt I can get at least as good a deal as we have with you elsewhere.”

  “You wouldn’t,” Marcie said defiantly but not without a tremor of insecurity. “Besides, I can’t give you her address. Privacy.”

  “Right, well, I’ll make a few phone calls then. I’ll start with Rhinegold, shall I? They’ve been courting us for ages.”

  Marcus took out his phone and started searching for the number. Marcie blanched.

  “All right. All right.” Marcie fluttered her hands in surrender. “She’s from Hicksville; Darling Flats, I believe it’s called. Wherever that is. I guess she’s gone there. I can’t tell you more than that. I’ll lose my job.”

  “You deserve to!”

  She moved closer as he made to leave and lowered her voice to a sultry wheedle. “Come and have a drink, Marcus. We can have dinner and then take a bottle of wine to my place. Forget Miss Nobody. No doubt she realises she made a mistake coming to the city. She’s probably already engaged to some neighbouring, similarly dim-witted, flannel-shirted yokel. She’ll be much better off. She’s a country bumpkin, Marcus. She’s not sophisticated like you and me.”

  While she was talking, Marcus was backing in the direction of the front door, trying to extricate himself from her without making a scene. His expression was dark and angry.

  “Thanks for the offer, but I fully intend to get Pearl’s side of the story. And if I think you’ve done anything to deliberately harm her, you’d better worry about your job.”

  He strode off with a sense of urgency, leaving Marcie with a worried frown. She smoothed down her skirt and glared at Leah.

  “Get a move on!” she barked and headed for the bathroom.

  Marcus drove straight home, packed an overnight bag, jumped into his car and keyed the only address for ‘Sinclair’ he’d found in Darling Flats into his GPS. Heading out of town to begin his two-and-a-half-hour journey, he thanked landlines for still having at least one use. Without knowing the names of either Pearl’s father or mother, he couldn’t be sure he was headed for the right Sinclairs, but it would be a good place to start his search. He had briefly considered ringing, but he needed to see Pearl, not just hear her voice, and if it was the wrong house, he’d keep searching until he found her. That he had promised himself.

  If all went well, he should arrive before eight o’clock; a not completely uncivilised time, he hoped, to knock on a stranger’s door without fear of scaring them half to death. He had a full tank of fuel and could eat once he arrived, which meant he could drive straight through without stopping.

  He was curious as to what his reaction would be when he saw Pearl. He’d been so taken with her when he’d met her at Mon Addi that he’d thought about her constantly since, but as every minute brought him closer, he wondered whether he had built her up into something in his mind that she could never live up to. Perhaps she was simply a pretty, dull, small-town girl with whom he had nothing in common, and with whom he would quickly grow bored should he spend any time with her.

  He shook his head and increased the car’s speed. No. He didn’t believe that. There was something about her that called to him. He’d heard stories of people seeing someone for the first time and immediately being absolutely certain that that was the person they were destined to marry. Did he feel like that about Pearl? Maybe. Maybe not. But he did feel her calling to him in a way he’d not experienced with any woman before. So maybe it was destiny. His romantic heart wanted to believe so; his rational mind was counselling him to wait and see.

  His thought’s switched to Marcie and her story about having to fire Pearl because she’d stolen a brooch. He pictured Pearl’s wide, innocent eyes and then Marcie’s dark, calculating ones. He wouldn’t trust Marcie not to try something underhand to get Pearl out of the picture if she saw her as a rival for the Holding Corporation fortune. Not that Marcie had any chance with Marcus; he wasn’t the least bit interested in her romantically, but she hadn’t accepted that.

  As he swung the car off the road and into the Sinclair family farm’s drive, his heart was pounding, no longer just from an expectant thrill at the possibility of seeing Pearl, but with anger. He was angry with Marcie for her dis
gusting treatment of Pearl, but he was also irrationally angry in general at a world, which would take so little care of his precious girl. The farm appeared to be quite poor and rundown, and her brave attempt to carve a life for herself in the city had cruelly ended in her being thrown out of work through no fault of her own. He shuddered to think how she was coping.

  He tapped on the front door, his mind formulating a speech to explain his presence at a stranger’s house in the dark. Even if Pearl did live here, she might not be in. His heart started thumping wildly in his chest as he heard the latch on the other side and the door opened. Then Pearl was standing there staring at him in utter astonishment.

  “Hi, Pearl,” he said, resisting an immediate and overwhelming urge to pull her into his arms and kiss her into oblivion. She was so adorable in a short pink dress, barefoot, her hair mussed as though he’d just woken her. “Remember me?”

  “Oh,” she gasped, leaning against the door as she collected herself. “Yes. Of course. Mr Holding. What are you doing here? Why…? How…?” Her expression changed to one of consternation. “Did I do something wrong? Is there a problem with your mother’s earrings?” Before he had time to answer, she suddenly remembered her manners. “Oh, I’m sorry. Please come in.”

  Marcus grinned at her as he entered and waited for her to close the door behind them.

  “Please, call me Marcus. And…”

  “Is that a visitor?” A woman Marcus took to be Pearl’s mother joined them interrupting what he was about to say.

  “Yes,” Pearl stammered, blushing. “This is Mr Holding, Marcus. Marcus, this is my mother, Mary Sinclair.”

  “Mr Holding,” Mary said taking the hand he held out to her and shaking it firmly but briefly.

  “Please call me, Marcus, Mrs Sinclair,” he insisted, taking an immediate liking to her. She had the same guileless, open expression as her daughter but without the awkwardness of youth. He could see the likeness between mother and daughter: Mary was also petite and her hair was fair, albeit not as fair as her daughter’s, but her eyes were blue, unlike Pearl’s brown ones.