It Started With A Diamond

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter One (#u4c667277-027a-5829-a8ab-51cd9bf8153a)

“It’s hard to be a diamond in a rhinestone world.”

—Dolly Parton

Diana Drake wasn’t sure about much in her life at the moment, but one thing was crystal clear—she wanted to strangle her brother.

Not her older brother, Dalton. She couldn’t really muster up any indignation as far as her elder sibling went, despite the fact that she was convinced he was at least partially responsible for her current predicament.

But Dalton got a free pass. For now.

She owed him.

For one thing, she’d been living rent free in his swanky Lenox Hill apartment for the past several months. For another, he was a prince now. A literal Prince Charming. As such, he wasn’t even in New York anymore. He was somewhere on the French Riviera polishing his crown or sitting on a throne or doing whatever it was princes did all day long.

Dalton’s absence meant that Diana’s younger brother, Artem, was the only Drake around to take the full brunt of her frustration. Which was a tad problematic since he was her boss now.

Technically.

Sort of.

But Diana would just have to overlook that minor point. She’d held her tongue for as long as humanly possible.

“I can’t do it anymore,” she blurted as she marched into his massive office on the tenth floor of Drake Diamonds, the legendary jewelry store situated on the corner of 5th Avenue and 57th Street, right in the glittering center of Manhattan. The family business.

Diana might not have spent every waking hour of her life surrounded by diamonds and fancy blue boxes tied with white satin bows, as Dalton had. And she might not be the chief executive officer, like Artem. But the last time she checked, she was still a member of the family. She was a Drake, just like the rest of them.

So was it really necessary to suffer the humiliation of working as a salesperson in the most dreaded section of the store?

“Engagements? Really?” She crossed her arms and glared at Artem. It was still weird seeing him sitting behind what used to be their father’s desk. Gaston Drake had been dead for a nearly a year, yet his presence loomed large.

Too large. It was almost suffocating.

“Good morning to you, too, Diana.” Artem smoothed down his tie, which was the exact same hue as the store’s trademark blue boxes. Drake blue.

Could he have the decency to look at least a little bit bothered by her outburst?

Apparently not.

She sighed. “I can’t do it, Artem. I’ll work anywhere in this building, except there.” She waved a hand in the direction of the Engagements showroom down the hall.

He stared blithely at her, then made a big show of looking at his watch. “I see your point. It’s been all of three hours. However have you lasted this long?”

“Three torturous hours.” She let out another massive sigh. “Have you ever set foot in that place?”

“I’m the CEO, so, yes, I venture over there from time to time.”

Right. Of course he had.

Still, she doubted he’d actually helped any engaged couples choose their wedding rings. At least, she hoped he hadn’t, mainly because she wouldn’t have wished such a fate on her worst enemy.

This morning she’d actually witnessed a grown man and woman speaking baby talk to each other. Her stomach churned just thinking about it now. Adults had no business speaking baby talk, not even to actual babies.

Her gaze shifted briefly to the bassinet in the corner of her brother’s office. She still couldn’t quite believe Artem was a dad now. A husband. It was kind of mind-boggling when she thought about it, especially considering what an abysmally poor role model their father had been in the family department.

Keep it professional.

She wouldn’t get anywhere approaching Artem as a sibling. This conversation was about business, plain and simple. Removing herself from Engagements was the best thing Diana could do, not just for herself, but also for Drake Diamonds.

Only half an hour ago, she’d had to bite her tongue when a man asked for advice about choosing an engagement ring and she’d very nearly told him to spend his money on something more sensible than a huge diamond when the chances that he and his girlfriend would live happily ever after were slim to none. If she accepted his proposal, they only had about an eighty percent chance of making it down the aisle. Beyond that, their odds of staying married were about fifty-fifty. Even if they remained husband and wife until death did them part, could they reasonably expect to be happy? Was anyone happily married?

Diana’s own mother had stuck faithfully by her husband’s side after she found out he’d fathered a child with their housekeeper, even when she ended up raising the boy herself. Surely that didn’t count as a happy marriage.

That boy was now a man and currently seated across the desk from Diana. She’d grown up alongside Artem and couldn’t possibly love him more. He was her brother. Case closed.

Diana’s problem wasn’t with Artem. It was with her father and the concept of marriage as a whole. She didn’t like what relationships did to people...

Especially what one had done to her mother.

Even if she’d grown up in a picture-perfect model family, Diana doubted she’d ever see spending three months’ salary on an engagement ring as anything but utter foolishness.

It was a matter of logic, pure and simple. Of statistics. And statistics said that plunking down $40,000 for a two-carat Drake Diamonds solitaire was like throwing a giant wad of cash right into the Hudson River.

But she had no business saying such things out loud since she worked in Engagements, now, did she? She had no business saying such things, period. Drake Diamonds had supported her for her entire life.

So she’d bitten her tongue. Hard.

“I’m simply saying that my talents would be best put to use someplace else.” Anyplace else.

“Would they now?” Artem narrowed his gaze at her. A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and she knew what was coming. “And what talents would those be, exactly?”

And there it was.

“Don’t start.” She had no desire to talk about her accident again. Or ever, for that matter. She’d moved on.

Artem held up his hands in a gesture of faux surrender. “I didn’t say a word about your training. I’m simply pointing out that you have no work experience. Or college education, for that matter. I hate to say it, sis, but your options are limited.”

She’d considered enrolling in classes at NYU, but didn’t bother mentioning it. Her degree wasn’t going to materialize overnight. Unfortunately. College had always been on her radar, but between training and competing, she hadn’t found the time. Now she was a twenty-six-year-old without a single day of higher education under her belt.

If only she’d spent a little less time on the back of a horse for the past ten years and a few more hours in the classroom...