by Day Leclaire
“I handle gemstones on a regular basis. Sometimes I carry them. For security reasons I prefer to remain off the grid. Now, about this meeting. Who, what, and why, Shayla?” He snapped out the questions. “Not to mention, when?”
At the reminder, she inhaled sharply. “What time is it?”
“Nine.”
“Oh, dear heaven.” She scooped up her crumpled clothes from the floor and made a beeline for the bathroom. “I have to go. Now.”
He caught her arm before she could escape the room. “Not until you explain what’s going on.”
Desire sizzled through her at his touch, a desire she fought to ignore with only limited success. “I’m not at liberty to explain. Nor do I owe you an explanation.”
“Even after last night?”
She forced herself to meet his furious gaze, to cling to every ounce of self-control at her disposal. “Even after last night. One has nothing to do with the other.”
“I disagree.”
If only he weren’t touching her. If only he’d let her go. “Please, Draco,” she whispered. “I have to leave. Perhaps we could talk after the meeting.”
He continued to hold her and she could tell he waged an inner debate, though she didn’t have a clue what he was thinking. Last night he’d been so open and giving, so generous in the way he’d made love to her. In the space of a few minutes he’d gone from the man with whom she’d shared unbearable emotional intimacy to someone hard and ferocious. She shivered. A dragon in fact, as well as name.
“Get dressed.” He released her arm, but for some reason the desire didn’t ebb as she expected. “Then I’ll see you out.”
She flinched. Without another word she crossed to the bathroom and shut the door with a decisive click. After a quick shower, she pulled on her gown from the previous night, struggling against a wave of humiliation at wearing an evening dress during daylight hours. She’d return to her dingy little motel room in the previous night’s finery, looking like . . .
Color swept into her face and she deliberately clamped down on every stray thought and emotion. She used Draco’s comb to yank the tangles from her hair. Without her clips she couldn’t put it up and she most certainly wasn’t going out there and scramble around on the floor looking for them. Shoving her feet into her heels, she exited the bathroom.
Draco stood at the threshold leading to the hallway, leaning a shoulder against the doorjamb. He’d used the time she’d been in the bathroom to dress, though in far more casual clothes than what she had available. He’d also chosen unrelieved black, the only color the hard gold glitter of his eyes.
“Would you mind calling me a cab?” she asked with a calm she was far from feeling.
“Already done.” He swept a hand in the general direction of the living room and—hallelujah—the exit. “After you.”
She hesitated a split second, then led with her chin. Crossing the room, she paused in the doorway, waiting for him to move out of her path. He didn’t. He simply watched and waited, no doubt curious to see what she’d do. Well, her grandmother hadn’t raised a coward. Shayla might have made some improper choices the night before, but by God she’d own them and take the consequences.
Without a word, she pressed past him. Just that brief contact stirred a storm of emotion. Memories of their night together spun through her, making her dizzy with the sensations they roused. The way Draco had caressed her. The lingering kisses he’d feathered across every inch of her body. The strength of his hold. The way he’d taken her, easing her passage, managing to be powerful and tender and giving all at the same time.
She’d never forget how it had been with him, nor the fact that he was the first man to make love to her. He’d changed her, indelibly branding her. He was part of her and always would be. The thought filled her with anxiety and she tucked it away for some future time when she could take it out and analyze it with the attention it deserved.
Draco shifted and the moment passed, even if the remnants still clung. He called for the elevator and keyed it in for the garage level. At her startled glance, he lifted a shoulder. “Even though it’s Saturday, I didn’t think you’d appreciate making the Walk of Shame through the main reception area for Dantes’ corporate offices, especially if you have a meeting with Sev and Primo later today. You never know who you may run into.”
Oh, God, please don’t let her cry at his thoughtfulness. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I appreciate your consideration.”
“I arranged for the cab to meet us at the side entrance. With luck no one will know you spent the night with me. Although—”
She glanced up at him in alarm. “Although?”
“My grandfather, Primo, has a knack for hearing what you’d like to keep quiet.”
“My grandmother is the same way.” Though she couldn’t imagine how Leticia Charleston might possibly discover Shayla had slept with the enemy. “I’d prefer it if this could be our secret.”
The doors slid open and Draco stepped in front of her, preventing her escape. “Just out of curiosity, would you have slept with me if I’d told you from the start I was a Dante?”
She didn’t bother to sugarcoat it. “No.”
Draco’s expression hardened and he gave a curt nod. “Thought so. Unfortunately, you’ve neglected to take into consideration one small detail.”
Escape. She just wanted to escape. She stared longingly over his shoulder toward the exit. “What’s that?”
He startled her by taking her hand in his, allowing the heat to pulse between them. “The Inferno has other plans for you.”
Releasing her, they exited the elevator. He escorted her across the concrete garage toward a steel door that opened onto a side street. Her stiletto heels echoed with every step while the throb centered in her palm matched the rhythmic tempo. A cab stood waiting. Ever the gentleman, Draco held the door for her and helped her in.
“Where to?” he asked.
Until that moment, it hadn’t occurred to her she might have to tell him the name of her motel. But it made perfect sense. He’d want to know where to track her down. One glance at his set expression warned he hadn’t finished saying all he intended to about their night together. Since she couldn’t bring herself to mention the fleabag where she’d booked her room, she chose the only other viable option. She lied.
“I’m staying at the Mark Hopkins,” she said.
Leaning into the front passenger window, Draco handed the driver a couple of folded bills. “The Mark,” he repeated.
And then he stepped back, his gaze fixed on her. This time she didn’t have a bit of trouble reading his expression. Both threat and promise were implicit in his hazel
eyes.
Chapter Three
The minute the cab pulled away and vanished around a corner, Draco reached into his pocket and palmed the diamond concealed there.
The stone pressed into his skin, hard and cold, and yet brimming with fire. He pulled it out and studied the flash of color. No question it was a fire diamond, though something about it looked different. Off. Until he could analyze it in the lab, he wouldn’t be able to say what. Nor would he be able to tell if it was one of the six he’d been swindled out of all those years ago. Stones he’d spent a solid decade tracking down, diamond by damnable diamond, until only two were still missing.
One thing he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt. If this diamond had anything to do with Shayla’s appointment at Dantes, he intended to be there. In fact, if Primo and Sev had known about the diamonds, they’d have insisted he attend. In the meantime, he’d analyze the stone before he crashed the party, and see if the information he gained wouldn’t give them some small advantage in whatever negotiations were imminent.
He stopped by the receptionist’s desk on the way to the lab. The company always arranged for someone to man the station over the weekend since many Dantes’ events occurred then. Or they often had guests in one or more of the penthouse suites who might require assistance during their stay.
“’Morning, Laura.”
She greeted him with a friendly smile. “Hello, Mr. Dante. What can I do for you?”
“What time are Primo and Sev arriving for the meeting with Shayla?” He paused. “Damn. Forgot her last name.”
“Hang on. I have it here.” She called up a calendar on her computer with a punch of a button. “Charleston. Shayla Charleston. The meeting is scheduled to begin at ten-thirty. They’ll be using the Jade conference room.”
Perfect. An hour would give him just enough time to prepare. “Give me a call when Ms. Charleston arrives, will you? I’ll be in the lab.”
“Certainly, Mr. Dante.”
As it turned out, it didn’t take long for the preliminary assessment. What he discovered stunned him. He was fairly certain it would also stun his grandfather, Primo, and his cousin, Sev. Shortly after Laura alerted him to everyone’s arrival, Draco entered the conference room through a side door.
Shayla sat in profile. She had presence, he’d give her that, capturing everyone’s attention without even trying. She’d once again swept her mass of dark hair into an elegant knot and wore a crisp, tailored skirt and jacket, the lemony color adding a ray of sunshine in contrast to the more somber suits and ties. He couldn’t place the designer, but it was definitely a high-priced label, just as her evening gown had been.
He caught Sev’s eye and gave him a signal indicating he wanted to sit in on the meeting. His cousin nodded and Draco took a chair at the opposite end of the table from Shayla, beside his grandfather. He suppressed a smile when she studiously avoided looking his way, a fact noted by several of his relatives.
If she wanted to keep their relationship a secret, she was going about it the exact wrong way. She should have acknowledged him. By ignoring him, she might as well have put up a huge sign saying, “We slept together, but I don’t want anyone to figure it out.” And his sign would say, “Too late. They just have and Primo is not happy.”
As though to bring home his point, Primo placed a hand on Draco’s shoulder, and growled in Italian, “Why must you always be the troublemaker? Explain this to me.”
Draco didn’t bother trying to explain it. How could he explain something that came as naturally as breathing? Answering in Italian, he simply stated, “She’s mine.”
Primo’s shaggy gray brows shot upward and his hard gold eyes widened. “So Rafe was not the only one Inferno-struck last night.”
Draco kept his expression bland. Apparently, his brother had taken his suggestion and faked a run-in with The Inferno with Larkin Thatcher. That would prove interesting. “I guess not.” He shoved back his chair and stood. “If you’ll excuse me, Primo?”
Since it was readily apparent to everyone at the table that he and Shayla were involved, he didn’t see any point in pretending. He circled the table and took the chair next to her.
“What are you doing?” she murmured beneath her breath. Alarm rippled through the question. “Get away from me.”
“They already know.”
“I’m well aware of that fact. Primo made it abundantly clear. But you don’t have to rub it in their faces.”
She’d caught him by surprise. “You speak Italian?”
“And several other languages, as well.” She continued to avoid meeting his gaze. “What I don’t understand is why you felt the need to tell them about last night.”
“I didn’t. You did.”
A blush mounted her cheeks. “I most certainly did not.” Her Southern accent deepened, blurring her words. “I never said a blessed thing.”
“You didn’t have to say anything. Let’s just say you have an expressive face.”
She started to say something, then broke off and snatched a quick breath. “Okay, fine. I’ll just have to deal with the embarrassment and stay focused on business.”
Embarrassment? For some reason the word irritated the hell out of him. He struggled to keep his voice pitched low. “Why does it embarrass you that we were together last night?” He gathered her hand in his, feeling the flare of The Inferno when their fingers collided and meshed and their palms bumped together. “For that matter, why does it matter what my family suspects? Unless one of us confirms it, they won’t know for certain.”
“You’re touching me. Mix that with whispering and you get a bucket load of guilt.”
“Odd. I don’t feel the least guilty. Or embarrassed.”
He leaned on the final word, hoping for a reaction. And got one. She made the mistake of looking directly at him and he felt that look arrow straight to his groin. It was a wonder the air didn’t combust between them. She must have read his reaction in his expression.
“Darn it, Draco. Cut that out. Go sit somewhere else.”
“Can’t.” It was the God’s honest truth. No way in hell was he going to stand and provide proof of his attraction for her.
Comprehension had her color deepening. “Why are you at this meeting?” she asked in despair. “Why couldn’t you have had the decency to stay away?”
“Maybe I would have if it hadn’t been for this.”
He opened his hand, revealing the diamond he’d taken from her. He’d put it in a protective Lucite box and sent the box shooting toward the center of the conference table. It spun dead center, the diamond inside spitting out shards of brilliant color, igniting the fire buried in its depth.
“It would seem Ms. Charleston has something interesting to show us,” Draco informed his family.
Sev snatched up the case and studied it. “Son of a— It’s a fire diamond.” His gaze narrowed on Shayla, filled with suspicion. “Where did you get this?”
“It’s not one of ours,” Draco offered helpfully.
Dead silence greeted his comment. “What do you mean it is not ours?” Primo finally demanded. “How is this possible?”
“It is, indeed, a fire diamond,” Draco confirmed. “But it doesn’t come from one of our mines. Which begs the question . . .” He swiveled his chair so it faced Shayla. “Where the hell did it come from?”
She’d put the few minutes he’d given her to good use, wrapping herself in an artificial calm. “That diamond, as well as the others in my possession, came from a Charleston mine.”
Lazz, the family’s CFO, frowned. “I thought your mines were played out years ago.”
And that’s when it clicked. Draco stiffened. Charleston. Shayla Charleston. As in . . . Charlestons, the now-defunct jewelry empire. They’d been in direct competition with Dantes decades ago until poor management and the inability to compete against Dantes’ fire diamonds had driven them out of business.
“We also thought the mines were played out. A recent survey has proven that not only aren’t they depleted, but they contain fire diamonds.” She leaned forward to emphasize her point. “Fire diamonds superior to the Dantes’.”
“That’s not possible,” Sev objected.
She set the leather bag on the table in front of her. “This is a small sample of what we’ve extracted. Let me repeat that—a small sample. You’re welcome to examine them at your leisure. I realize it’ll take time.”
Primo waved his hand toward Draco, indicating he should take care of the analysis and grading. “So.” He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. “Letty has her own supply of fire diamonds. I am surprised she is giving us advance warning of her intentions. Or is it more in the nature of a threat?”
He tilted his head to one side, and fixed the power of his gaze on Shayla. Draco had seen men of immense power and position crumble beneath that gaze. But not Shayla. She met him look for look.
“It’s not a warning, Mr. Dante, or a threat.” Her smile flickered to life. Draco considered it one of her most potent weapons. “It’s a proposition. My grandmother is offering you the exclusive opportunity to lease our mines.”
Sev focused his gaze on Shayla as well, one identical to his grandfather’s. “Why?”
“It’s quite simple. We’re not in the business anymore
. My parents, who probably could have revitalized Charlestons, are dead and I have neither the interest nor the ability to run the company,” she admitted with endearing candor. “To be blunt, we simply aren’t in the position to mine the stones or cut them—other than this initial lot—let alone create jewelry with them. You are.”
Primo weighed the information for a long moment before speaking. “There are others who would pay your grandmother a fortune for the mining rights. Competitors of Dantes. Considering she has always blamed us for putting Charlestons out of business and it is in her nature to exact revenge . . .” He spread his hands wide and shrugged. “Why does she not use this opportunity to her advantage?”
“My grandmother is older now. Losing my parents hit her hard.”
Primo nodded. “I heard about the accident. Having lost one of my own sons, along with his wife, I can sympathize with Letty. But it is your loss that grieves me most.”
Tears welled in her eyes and she blinked them back, impressing the hell out of Draco with her control. “Thank you.”
Primo inclined his head. “Would you be offended if we discuss the situation in Italian?”
“Not at all.” She sent him a charming smile. “Would you be offended if I listened in?”
Primo stilled. “You speak Italian?”
“Parlo italiano fluente,” she admitted.
“Fluently and with an excellent accent,” Draco murmured. Then he raised his voice. “Shayla, would you mind waiting in my office while my family and I discuss the situation?”