Diamonds Are Forever

“You’re leaving?” Her voice caught, and she swallowed to get ahold of herself. “Again?”

“Yes,” he said, so calmly that she had no idea what he was feeling. “Adrian told me you and your sisters got back in town about an hour ago. I understand if you don’t want to see me, but I wanted to at least give you the choice.”

“Of course I want to see you,” she stammered. “Where are you?”

“In the Diamond,” he said. “In your hall, actually. Right outside your door, with your guards.”

She yanked off her baggy sweatshirt and hurried to her mirror. Why did he have to give her such little notice? When she’d imagined seeing him again, she assumed she would look fresh—not like she’d been woken up early to go to breakfast, forced to go with her family on a bike ride through Napa, and then flown back home. Her smudged makeup was ten hours old, and her hair was a mess, since she’d pulled it into a bun so she wouldn’t play with it while doing her homework.

“Peyton?” Jackson said again. “It’s all right if you need a few minutes. I’ll be waiting here.”

“A few minutes sounds good,” she said. “I’ll see you soon.” She jammed her finger onto the end-call button, ran a brush through her hair and tried to salvage her makeup.

This was her chance to make things right with Jackson. She could do this. She had to do this, otherwise she would be mad at herself forever.

But first, she had to text her sisters, since they were in their rooms and would definitely hear when he came in.

Jackson’s here and wants to talk to me...we’ll be in my room, so don’t come in!! Will give you the 411 later ;)

She shoved her phone into the back pocket of her jeans, walked to the front entrance and opened the door.

Just like he’d said, Jackson was waiting with Savannah and Courtney’s guards—Carl and Teddy—and Peyton’s new, older guard, Dustin. In the months that Jackson had been her guard, Peyton had grown used to seeing him in his bodyguard uniform, but today he wore dark blue jeans, a black T-shirt and a leather jacket. Even though he was a few years older, he looked like he could pass for her age.

“Hey.” She tried to sound nonchalant, despite the fact that every inch of her body was shaking.

“Hey.” He moved closer to the door. Everything about his expression was neutral, so it was impossible to tell if he was excited to see her or not. Her blood ran cold—this couldn’t be a good sign.

“Want to come in?” She swallowed, her throat ridiculously dry, and opened the door wider.

He did, and they walked to her room in silence. She felt like he was watching her, but every time she tried to catch his gaze, he looked away. He’d been in her room only once—the night of Halloween when she’d had a “costume emergency” because she couldn’t decide what to wear, and had tried on her top three choices for him. They’d kissed that night, and while it wasn’t their first kiss, it was the first time he hadn’t pushed her away. Or at least he hadn’t pushed her away immediately. It hadn’t taken him long to remind her that he worked for her father, and any other relationship between them was inappropriate.

“So,” she said, closing the door to her room and facing him. “It’s been a while.” She forced herself to stay still and not wring her hands. She didn’t want him to see how nervous she was.

He took a deep, pained breath and glanced at the ceiling. “I know,” he said, his hazel eyes finding hers again. “I wanted to apologize for that.”

“Okay.” She smiled, since she’d never had someone declare that they wanted to apologize to her. Did he expect her to give him permission? “Go ahead.”

He pulled at his sleeves. “Mind if we sit?”

“Sure.” Peyton sat on her bed, but instead of joining her, Jackson chose the desk chair nearby. Dread twisted in her stomach. If he’d decided he wanted to be with her—to see if it could work between them—wouldn’t he have joined her on the bed? She grabbed a small decorative pillow and placed it on her lap, then started picking at the corners.

“I spoke with your father yesterday,” Jackson repeated what he’d told her on the phone. “He called and asked to see me—he bought me a round-trip ticket from Omaha and gave me a room for the weekend.”

“No way,” Peyton said. “I thought he hated you.”

“It surprised me, too,” he said. “Especially since the last time I saw him, he fired me and gave me no recommendations. I’ve been home since, trying to figure out how to get a job with that on my record.”

“Someone would have to hire you,” she said. The alternative—­that she’d ruined Jackson’s career—was too awful to think about. She’d never forgive herself if that were the case.

“With no reference and no acceptable explanation of why I got fired?” He leaned back in the chair and raised an eyebrow. “A bodyguard is not a position that people want to take a chance on, so it wasn’t looking good. My best option seemed to be changing careers. Luckily, my old karate instructor heard me out about what happened and offered to let me assist with teaching a few classes at the studio.”

“You were going to go from being a bodyguard for the daughter of one of the biggest hotel owners in the world to teaching karate at a studio in Nebraska?” Peyton scrunched her forehead. “I have a hard time picturing that.”

“I was actually enjoying it, but it was only a temporary position while I was considering my options,” he said. “Then Adrian called. I came straight here, and he told me that he’d had a change of heart. He said he still doesn’t approve of my actions, but that for the most part, I did a good job, and he was impressed by my work ethic.”

“So he wants to rehire you?” Peyton sat up straighter, excitement thrumming through her veins.

“No,” he said, and she leaned back into the pillows, her hopes crushed again. “But he apologized for firing me without giving me a recommendation. He said that while he still stands by his decision, he was too harsh on me, and that he doesn’t want to ruin my career.”

“Wow,” Peyton said, trying to sound cheerful. “That was nice of him.”

“It was.” Jackson rocked the swiveling desk chair back and forth. “I assumed you had something to do with it.”

“I wish, but I don’t think I did.” She ran her hands through her hair, trying to figure out what could have caused Adrian’s change of heart. “After everything that happened, Adrian made it clear that he didn’t want to hear about you. I’ve only mentioned you to my sisters, and to Rebecca.”

“Rebecca’s the only person I can think of who could change his mind.”

“But I don’t see why she would bother,” Peyton said. “I mean, she did ask me a few times while we were in Italy how I was handling everything, but I’m not exactly close to her.” She thought about it, then shrugged it off. How this had happened didn’t matter. All that mattered was that it was happening. “When will you start applying for a new job?” she asked. “There must be tons of people who need a bodyguard in Vegas.”

“Adrian reached out to a connection and got me a job himself.” He pressed his palms together, watching her closely. “I start tomorrow.”

“That’s amazing!” Peyton smiled and bounced her legs. “Who will you be working for?” A few possibilities crossed her mind—Logan Prescott, Steve Wynn, Sheldon Adelson—there were so many high-powered people connected to Adrian in Las Vegas. And the fact that Adrian would do this, despite how angry he’d been after seeing the photos of her and Jackson...­­it meant a lot.

“That’s what I wanted to tell you.” The seriousness in his voice made Peyton go still. “The job isn’t in Las Vegas. It’s in a town in upstate New York—Port Charles. They have some mob issues there and one of the guys in charge needs a new bodyguard for his kid. I’m taking the red-eye tonight.”

The words felt like a stake through Peyton’s heart. “Adrian did this on purpose, didn’t he?” she said. “He got you a job far away to make sure we never see each other.”

“Listen, Peyton.” He rubbed his hands over his head and blew out a long breath. “I have feelings for you. You know it’s true, because I told you that night at the Imperial Palace, and I would never lie to you about something so important.”

“Really?” she asked. “Because when you dropped off the face of the planet, I thought you didn’t care anymore. I thought you never wanted to talk to me again.”

“As I told you, I needed time to think,” he said. “And while I was home, I did a lot of thinking. I wanted to justify what had happened between us, but I kept coming back to the same conclusion—the way I let my guard down around you was unacceptable. My job was to protect you. Not to bring you to a bar so you could confide in me over a pitcher of beer.”

“You listened when I needed someone to talk to,” she said, scooting closer to him. “You were the only person I trusted who was there for me. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Besides the fact that until you turn eighteen, anything between us is illegal, what’s ‘wrong with that’ is that I was your bodyguard.” He set his jaw, sitting straighter. “Not your boyfriend.”

“Well, you’re not my bodyguard anymore.” She hated how bitter she sounded, but there was no taking it back, so she might as well let it all out. “And even though I only have two months until my birthday, clearly you have no interest in being my boyfriend, either.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I thought you didn’t ‘do’ long-­distance relationships. At least, that’s what you told Mike when you broke up with him.”

“You’re comparing yourself to Mike?” Peyton laughed. “Mike and I had nothing in common except that we were attracted to each other, and he was a challenge because he hung out with a different group of friends than I did in Fairfield. But you get me on a deeper level. You saw the darkest parts of my life—the worst parts of me—and you didn’t hate me. I didn’t have to put on an act with you.”

“But you were forced to let me in,” he said. “I read your file, and I watched you for months before you even knew I existed. I knew you before we exchanged a single word. And I know that if you try to let people in on your own, you’ll connect with them more than you thought you could.” She opened her mouth to argue, but he cut her off. “Plus, you said yourself that you like a challenge. That’s why you went for Mike, and for Oliver, and for that Australian teacher of yours.”

“Don’t be stupid,” she said. “Those guys don’t come close to comparing to you.”

“But at the time, you thought you were truly interested in each one of them, right?”