The Platinum Collection: A Diamond Deal: The Flaw in His Diamond / The Purest of Diamonds? / In the Brazilian's Debt

Roman shrugged as he walked deeper into the room. ‘Come work for me,’ he said as if this were the most obvious solution in the world. ‘You don’t want to be a freeloader. And I’m not trying to buy you. So pay your way. That’s fine by me. My aide Mark pulled your CV and I’ve read it. Your qualifications are every bit as good as Britt’s, so why have you never used them? What’s your problem, Eva? What are you frightened of?’

‘I’m not frightened of anything,’ she scoffed, blushing as she turned away, but curiosity got the better of her in the end. ‘What type of job?’

‘Well, let’s see now,’ Roman murmured as he flicked through the dresses on the rail. ‘I think this one. What do you think?’ He held up an elegant dream of a dress in navy blue silk. ‘I think this colour would look wonderful with your hair.’

‘You haven’t answered my question.’

‘I’ve got some good ideas, and that’s all you need to know right now. Try this on. We can talk about work over supper.’

‘You talk and I listen, presumably?’

‘We’ll both talk and we’ll both listen,’ Roman countered, holding her gaze. ‘I thought working on behalf of the mine was what you wanted, Eva?’

‘I’ll listen to what you have to say. Of course, I will,’ she added, wanting to sound receptive rather than belligerent for once in her life. She didn’t dare to hope that tonight her wishes could all come true at once.

* * *

Roman had judged the supper perfectly. He had a deft touch when it came to matching setting with mood, and had chosen a warm little womb of a place where it was impossible not to feel relaxed. Bustling and busy, the decor, in shades of red and old gold, was slightly old-fashioned and slightly shabby and all the better for it. The owner greeted Roman in a way that suggested he had been eating in the same place for years, and there was an air of confidence about the restaurant that suggested it had been in the same family for generations. There were quiet booths, soft lighting, and a jazz singer performing wistful songs at low volume at a piano in the corner. Eva and Roman occupied an end booth where they had more privacy than most.

‘I couldn’t eat another thing,’ she assured him when the waiter brought their coffee. The food had been delicious, but it was hard to concentrate on anything other than the fact that they were sitting across a narrow table from each other with their knees almost touching.

‘You look lovely, Eva. I’m glad you like the dress.’

Almost without realising it, she smoothed the skirt. She had never owned anything quite so elegant. She lived her life in jeans or polar trousers, so the dress was quite a departure from her usual style. She was glad he didn’t gloat that she’d given in. There were battles worth fighting, she had learned, and others where no one lost by backing off.

‘You’re frowning again.’

‘Thinking about that job you mentioned,’ she admitted. ‘Are you serious?’

‘Never more so. You have qualifications in land management, specialising in polar regions, so why haven’t you put them to use?’

‘I had family commitments—and I don’t want to talk about that now.’

‘So I talk and you don’t? I don’t think so, Eva. That’s not how it works.’

‘This was your idea, and either you have a job for me or you don’t.’

Roman looked at her ruefully. ‘You might want to think about how that sounds to a prospective employer. Relax, Eva. This isn’t a test. It’s a serious offer. Maybe the consortium needs your particular local experience and expertise. Have you considered that?’

Her heart wrenched as she realised she was back into the old combative ways, trying to destroy something before she had given it a chance. Was she going to throw this away too? ‘Sorry. I’m just—’

‘Confused by being thrown into a whole new world of possibility? I know. I know you need time, but there is no time, Eva. We both know the mine is at a turning point, and I’m determined it’s going to survive. Now, either you want to be part of that or you don’t.’

‘Can you tell me something about the job?’

‘I want you to work with me.’

‘What? Work with you? Doing what?’ She had imagined some office job low down the pecking order—something to keep her off his back, yet under his thumb. ‘I don’t know anything about polishing diamonds.’