by Teri Wilson
Ophelia set her glass down on the table. “I’m off, then. Duty calls.”
“Something tells me your job won’t be in jeopardy if you hang out a little while longer,” Diana said in a mock whisper.
“I know, but I seriously can’t wait to get to work on the design now that I know I’m actually going to get my hands on that diamond. I almost can’t believe it’s happening. It hasn’t quite sunk in yet.” Her eyes shone with wonder. “This is real, isn’t it?”
Diana took a deep breath.
This is real, isn’t it?
The memory of Franco’s touch hit her hard and fast...the dance of his fingertips moving down her spine...the way his hands had circled her wrists, holding her still as he kissed her...
She was beginning to lose track of what was genuine and what wasn’t.
“Believe it. It’s real.” She swallowed around the lump in her throat and gave Ophelia one last smile before she found herself alone in the kitchen with Artem.
Diana reached for one of the tiny cakes they kept on hand decorated to look like Drake-blue boxes and bit into it. Ah, comfort food. She could use a sugary dose of comfort right now, although she wasn’t quite sure why.
You’re getting everything you wanted.
Why had she felt like crying when Franco uttered those words the night before?
“Can we talk for a moment, sis?” Artem sank into one of the kitchen chairs.
“Sure.” Diana sat down beside him. She was in no hurry to get back to Dalton’s empty apartment. She’d rather be here, where things were celebratory.
When she’d first read the news that the Lambertis had, indeed, chosen Drake Diamonds, she’d been propped up in bed sipping her morning coffee and reading her iPad. Seeing the official press announcement hadn’t given her the thrill she’d been anticipating.
If she was being honest, it almost felt like a letdown. She didn’t want to examine the reasons why, and she most definitely didn’t want to be alone with her thoughts. Because those thoughts kept circling back to last night.
Kissing Franco. The feel of his mouth on hers, wet and wanting. The look on his face when he spotted the Lambertis.
“You okay?” Artem looked at her, and the smile that had been plastered on his face all morning began to fade.
Diana leaned over and gave him an affectionate shoulder bump. “Of course. I’m more than okay.”
But she couldn’t quite bring herself to meet his gaze, so she focused instead on the table in front of them and its giant pile of newspapers. The corner of Page Six poked out from beneath the New York Times, and she caught a glimpse of the now-familiar grainy image of herself and Franco kissing.
Her throat grew tight.
She squeezed her eyes closed.
“I hope that’s true, sis. I do. Because I have some concerns,” Artem said.
Diana’s eyes flew open. “Concerns. About what?”
He paused and seemed to be choosing his words with great care.
“You and Franco,” he said at last.
She blinked. “Me and Franco?”
Artem’s gaze flitted to Page Six. “I’m starting to wonder if this charade has gone too far.”
“You can’t be serious. The whole plan was your idea.” She waved a hand at the empty bottles of Veuve Clicquot littering the kitchen. “And it worked. We did it, Artem.”
“Yes. So far it’s been a remarkable success.” He nodded thoughtfully. “For the company. But some things are more important than business.”
Who was his guy and what had he done with her brother? Everything they’d done for the past few weeks had been for the sake of Drake Diamonds. “What are you getting at, Artem?”
But she didn’t have to ask. Deep down, she knew.
“This.” He pulled the copy of Page Six out from beneath the Times and tossed it on top of the pile.
She didn’t want to look at it. It hurt too much to see herself like that.
“It was just a kiss, Artem.” Her brother was watching her closely, waiting for her to crack, so she forced herself to look at the photograph.
It was worse than the enormous billboard in Times Square. So much worse. Probably because this time she hadn’t been acting. This time, she’d wanted Franco to take her to bed.
Her self-control was beginning to slip. Along with her common sense. The kiss had pushed her right over the edge. It had made her forget all the reasons she despised him. Even now, she was still struggling to remember his numerous bad qualities. It was like she was suffering from some kind of hormone-induced amnesia.
Artem lifted a brow. Thank God he couldn’t see inside her head. “That looks like more than just a kiss to me.”
“As it should.” She crossed her arms, leaned back in her chair and glared at him. He was pulling the overprotective brother act on her now? Seriously? “The whole point of our courtship is to make people believe it’s real. Remember?”
“Of course I remember. And yes, I’m quite aware it was my idea. But I never said anything about kissing.” He shot her a meaningful glance. “Or making out in dark corners. Where was this picture taken? Because this looks much more like a private moment than a public relations party stunt.”
It took every ounce of will power Diana possessed to refrain from wadding up the paper and throwing it at him. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing. For your information, the only reason I kissed him was because the Lambertis were walking straight toward us. I had to do something. I didn’t want them to think Franco and I were arguing.”
“Were you?” Artem raised his brows. “Arguing?”
She sighed. “No. Yes. Well, sort of.”
“If there’s nothing actually going on between you and Franco, what do you have to argue about?”
Diana shifted in her chair. Maybe Artem could see inside her head.
Of course he couldn’t. Still, she should have had a dozen answers at the ready. People who weren’t lovers argued all the time, didn’t they?
But she couldn’t seem capable of coming up with a single viable excuse. She just sat there praying for him to stop asking questions.
Finally, Artem put her out of her long, silent misery. “Is there something you should tell me, Diana?”
“There’s nothing going on between Franco and me. I promise.” Why did that sound like a lie when it was the truth?
Worse, why did the truth feel so painful?
You do not have feelings for Franco Andrade. Not again.
“You’re a grown-up. I get that. It’s just that you’re my sister. And as you so vehemently pointed out less than two weeks ago, Franco is a man whore.” Artem looked pointedly at the photo splashed across Page Six. “I’m starting to think this whole farce was a really bad idea.”
“Look, I appreciate the concern. But I can handle myself around Franco. The kiss was my idea, and it meant nothing.” It wasn’t supposed to, anyway. “End of story.”
She stood and began clearing away the dirty champagne flutes and tossing the empty Veuve Clicquot bottles into the recycling bin. She couldn’t just sit there and talk about this anymore.
“Got it.” To Diana’s great relief, Artem rose from his chair and headed toward the hallway.
But he lingered in the doorway for a last word on the subject. “You know, we can stop this right now. You’ve proven your point. You have a lot to offer Drake Diamonds. I was wrong to put you in this position.”
“What?” She turned to face him.
Surely she hadn’t heard him right.
He nodded and gave her a bittersweet smile. “I was wrong. And I’m sorry. Say the word, and your fake relationship with Franco can end in a spectacular or not-so-spectacular fake breakup. Your choice.”
Her choice.
But she didn’t have a choice. Not rea
lly.
A week ago, she would have given anything to get Franco out of her life. Now it didn’t seem right. Not when she’d gotten what she needed out of the deal and Franco apparently hadn’t.
Smile, darling, you’re getting everything you wanted.
He’d played his part, and she owed it to him to play hers. Like or not, they were stuck together until the gala.
“You know that’s not possible, Artem. We haven’t even finalized things with the Lambertis. They could take their diamond and hightail it over to Harry Winston.”
“I know they could. I’m beginning to wonder if it would really be so awful if they did.” Artem sighed, and she could tell just by the look on his face that he was thinking about the photo again. Page Six. The kiss. “Is it really worth all of this? Is anything?”
“Absolutely.” She nodded, but a tiny part of her wondered if he might be right. “You’re making a big deal out of nothing. I promise.”
It was too late for doubts. She’d made her bed, and now she had to lie in it. Preferably alone.
Liar.
Artem nodded and looked slightly relieved, which was still a good deal more relieved than Diana actually felt. “I suppose I should know better than to believe everything I read in the papers, right?”
She picked up the copy of Page Six, intent on burying it at the bottom of the recycling bin. It trembled in her hand.
She tossed it back onto the surface of the table and crossed her arms. “Exactly.”
How was she going to survive until the gala? She dreaded seeing Franco later. Now that he seemed intent on not kissing her again, it was all she could think about.
Even worse, how could she look herself in the mirror when she could barely look her brother in the eye?
* * *
Franco gave the white ball a brutal whack with his mallet and watched it soar through the grass right between the goal posts at the far end of the practice field on his Hamptons property.
Another meaningless score.
His efforts didn’t count when he was the only player on the field. But he needed to be here, as much for his ponies as for himself. They needed to stay in shape. They needed to be ready, even if it was beginning to look less and less like they’d be returning to the Kingsmen.
Last night had been a reality check in more ways than one. He wasn’t sure what had enraged him more—seeing his number on another player’s chest or realizing Diana had asked him to kiss her purely for show.
He knew his fury was in no way rational, particularly where Diana was concerned. Their entire arrangement was based on deception. He just hadn’t realized he would be the one being deceived.
But even that shouldn’t have mattered. He shouldn’t have cared one way or another whether Diana really wanted his mouth on hers.
And yet...he did care.
He cared far more than he ever thought he would.
I’m not yours, Mr. Andrade. Never have been, never will be.
Franco wiped sweat from his brow with his forearm, rested his mallet over his shoulder and slowed his horse to an easy canter. As he watched the mare’s thick muscles move beneath the velvety surface of her coat, he thought of Diamond.
He thought about Diana’s dead horse every time he rode now. He thought about the way she could barely seem to make herself say Diamond’s name. He thought about her reluctance to even hold Lulu. She was afraid of getting attached to another animal. That much was obvious. Only one thing would fix that.
She needed to ride again.
Of course, getting Diana back in the saddle was the last thing he should be concerned about when he couldn’t even manage to get himself back on his team.
That hadn’t stopped him from dropping Lulu off at Drake Diamonds before he’d headed to the Hamptons. Artem’s secretary, Mrs. Barnes, had looked at him like he was crazy when he’d handed her the puppy and asked her to give it to Diana. Maybe he had gone crazy. But if he’d forced the dog on Diana himself, she would have simply refused.
She needed the dog. Franco had never in his life met anyone who’d needed another living creature so much. Other than himself when he’d been a boy...
Maybe that’s why he cared so much about helping Diana. Despite their vastly different upbringings, he understood her. Whether she wanted to admit it or not.
Let it go. You have enough problems of your own without adding Diana Drake’s to the mix.
She didn’t want his help, anyway, and that was fine. He was finished with her. As soon as the gala was over and once he had his job back, they’d never see each other again. He was practically counting the minutes.
“Andrade,” someone called from the direction of the stalls where Franco’s other horses were resting and munching on hay in the shade.
Franco squinted into the setting sun. As he headed off the field, he spotted a familiar figure walking toward him across the emerald-green grass.
Luc.
Franco slid out of his saddle and passed the horse’s reins to one of his grooms. “Gracias.”
It wasn’t until he’d closed the distance between himself and his friend that he recognized a faint stirring in his chest. Hope. Which only emphasized how pathetic his situation was at the moment. If the Kingsmen wanted him back, the coach wouldn’t send Luc. Santos would be here. Maybe even Ellis himself.
He removed his helmet and raked a hand through his dampened hair. “Luc.”
“Hola, mano.” Luc nodded toward the goal, where the white ball still sat in the grass. “Looking good out there.”
“Thanks, man.” An awkward silence settled between them. Franco cleared his throat. “How was the scrimmage yesterday?”
Luc’s gaze met his. Held. “It was complete and utter shit.”
“I wish I could say I was surprised. Gustavo Anca. Really? He’s a six-goal player.” Not that a handicap of six was bad. Plenty of world-class players were ranked as such. But Franco’s handicap was eight. On an average day, Gustavo Anca wouldn’t even be able to give him a run for his money. On a good day, Franco would have wiped the ground with him.
Luc nodded. “Well, it showed.”
Franco said nothing. If Luc was hoping for company in his commiseration, he’d just have to be disappointed.
“Look, Franco. I came here to tell you I can’t let this go on. Not anymore.” Franco shook his head, but before he could audibly protest, Luc held up a hand. “I don’t want to hear it. We’ve waited long enough. The Kingsmen are going to lose every damn game this season if we don’t get you back. I’m going to Jack Ellis first thing in the morning, and I’m going to tell him the truth.”
“No, you’re not,” Franco said through gritted teeth.
He’d made a promise, and he intended to keep it. Even if that promise had sent his life into a tailspin.
“It’s not up for discussion. I don’t know why I let you talk me into this in the first place.” Luc shook his head and dropped his gaze to the ground.
He knew why. They both did.
“It’s too late to come clean.” Would Ellis even believe them if they told the truth this late in the game? Would anyone? Franco doubted it, especially in Diana’s case. She’d made up her mind about him a long time ago.
But why should her opinion matter? She had nothing to do with this. Their lives had simply become so intertwined that Franco could no longer keep track of where his ended and hers began.
“I don’t believe that. It’s not too late. I love you like a brother. You know I do. You don’t owe me a thing, Franco. You never did, and you certainly don’t owe me this.” Luc looked up again with red-rimmed eyes.
Why was he making this so difficult? “What’s done is done. Besides, what’s the point? If you tell the truth, you know what will happen.”
“Yeah, I do. You’ll be
in, and I’ll be out, which is precisely the way it should be.” Luc blew out a ragged exhale. “This is bigger than the two of us, Franco. It’s about the team now.”
He was hitting Franco where it hurt, and he knew it. The team had always come first for Franco. Before the women, before the partying, before everything.
Until now.
Some things were bigger. Luc was family. Without Luc, Franco would never have played for the Kingsmen to begin with. He would have never even left Buenos Aires. He’d probably still be sleeping in a barn at night, or worse. He might have gone back to where he’d come from. Barrio de la Boca.
He liked to think that horses had saved him. But, in reality, it had been Luc.
He exhaled a weary sigh. “What’s the point anymore? The Kingsmen can’t lose you, either. If you do this, the team will suffer just as much as it already has.”
“No. It won’t.” A horse whinnied in the distance. Luc smiled. “You’re better than I am. You always were.”
Franco’s chest grew tight, and he had the distinct feeling they weren’t talking about polo anymore.
“I came here as a courtesy, so you’d be prepared when Ellis calls you tomorrow. This is happening. Get ready.” Luc turned to go.
Franco glared at the back of his head. “And if things change between now and tomorrow?”
Luc turned around. Threw his hands in the air. “What could possibly change?”
Everything.
Everything could change.
And Franco knew just how to make certain it would.
Chapter Eleven
Diana was running out of ball gowns, but that wasn’t her most pressing problem at the moment. That notable distinction belonged to the problem that had four legs and a tail and had peed on her carpet three times in the past two hours.
As if Franco hadn’t already made her life miserable enough, now he’d forced the puppy upon her. After Diana’s awkward encounter with Artem in the Drake Diamonds kitchen, Mrs. Barnes had waltzed in and thrust the little black pug at her. She’d had no choice but to take the dog home. Now here they sat, waiting for Ophelia to show up with a new crop of evening wear.
