White Knight

by Nicole Flockton

  Every gem cutter worth his or her salt knew of Chevalier Jewels. She’d worked for them about six months now. A blink in the span of her long life.

  Too long.

  Immortality sounded fantastic until the first time you realized everyone you loved would die and you’d be left alone. Over and over and over. After the first couple hundred years, she’d learned meaningful friendships and relationships were not worth the inevitable pain of loss. After more than fifteen hundred years of achingly lonely existence, she was done.

  Exhausted.

  Over it.

  Finished.

  If she could find the damn Immortality Stone, she could put an end to everything. Death seemed a lovely respite from the grind of living this long.

  According to the underground rumor mill, Chevalier had a massive uncut diamond stored in a vault here in London, and God knew she had nothing better to do with her time than set out on yet another treasure hunt.

  This morning, however, her mind refused to focus on her quest. Instead, a pair of warm brown eyes and the memory of a kiss that had awakened her body from an endless slumber played through her mind. The touch of his firm lips against hers. The way his arms cradled her as though she were a precious jewel.

  The lift doors opened with an efficient whoosh and a ping. Sasha stepped inside and tried to leave all thoughts of Derek Arthur behind in the foyer. She had a stone to find. Until then, she had to do her job flawlessly.

  And no kiss, no matter how . . .

  Damn. Quit it.

  After centuries of carefully avoiding relationships beyond the superficial, you’d think she could forget him with zero effort. Yet, if she inhaled deeply, even now she could smell the fresh, piney scent of his cologne.

  The lift reached her floor, and she quickly strode down the hallway—plush with thick navy carpet, grey walls, and pictures of Chevalier’s most famous jewels adorning the walls—to her office.

  She liked where she worked. As a master gem cutter, she didn’t work on “the floor” with tens or even hundreds of other junior cutters at one of the company’s warehouse-style branches. She operated in the central corporate building in London, had her own dedicated office and space. The glassed-in room with windows along one wall held various tools of her trade laid out on a long table. A separate, smaller desk was set up for her computer. Software helped, allowing her to scan the stone and test out possibilities before ever cutting into it. But nothing beat a trained eye.

  It was the perfect cover to try to find a rare diamond with suspected magical properties.

  For now, she put her things away and flipped open her laptop. A small frown pulled down the corners of her lips and a twinge of anxiety plucked at her nerves when she read the high-priority email.

  “What does Lance Chevalier want with me?”

  She had met with only one of the dwarves, or little people as they preferred to be called in this era, who owned and operated Chevalier. Seven in all. Seven men, all agonizingly familiar to her . . . from a distance . . . once upon an ageless long time ago.

  Luckily, she’d been hired by Eddie Chevalier, VP of operations, who controlled what happened to the company’s stones after they came out of the mines. Of the seven, she always thought Eddie to be the most logical and even tempered. His dark hair verged on floppy, giving him a jovial appearance helped by a frequent smile, but made handsome by almost sleepy dark blue eyes. Bedroom eyes.

  But she wasn’t meeting with Eddie. Instead, she’d be meeting with Lance Chevalier, the man she blamed for everything wrong in her life. Eldest and de facto leader of the Chevaliers, he held the CEO position. Of course, he did. Power hungry arse. But as CEO, what could he possibly want with her, a gem cutter? Why wasn’t Eddie involved?

  A quick glance at the clock in the bottom of her screen showed the meeting with Lance was set to start in five minutes. With a huff of annoyance, she closed her computer and headed back to the lifts. The executive suites were located on the floor below the space designated as the penthouse. The vaults were a level down from the executive suites.

  She’d seen the exec’s offices, so the opulence of the mahogany wood and displayed jewels behind specially lighted glass casings held little interest for her. Her meeting invite directed her to the owners’ boardroom.

  “I’m here to meet with Lance Chevalier,” she informed his assistant.

  “Go on in.” The svelte blonde waved her through.

  Sasha gave her a nod of thanks, reflex more than anything. Before opening the door, she smoothed her hands over her black pencil skirt and checked that the buttons of her white blouse were in order, running a hand over her hair gathered back in a sophisticated knot. A brief knock, and she stepped through the massive wood door only to stop short as she caught sight of who sat with Lance at the round glass-topped table in the middle of the room.

  Derek Arthur.

  What. The. Bloody. Hell?

  Shock ping-ponged around her mind, competing with a heat that coursed through her veins. That damn kiss. Derek sent her a lazy stare with a barely there quirk to his lips, which tightened her nipples in response. He, apparently, wasn’t surprised to see her at all.

  Which meant what?

  His last name hadn’t been lost on her when they first met. If anything, the association with the man whom she’d admired from afar had caused her to be particularly snarky with him at the pub that night.

  It wasn’t like she could plant a compulsion in him to leave the room. Not that it would work anyway. When she’d tried to send him on his way in the pub, the thought had bounced back to her. Her gift to encourage people to do the opposite of what they wanted had helped her out of many a tight situation during her long lifetime. Never had she run across an individual she hadn’t been able to compel.

  Besides, he’d obviously been invited to this meeting, so it would be weird if he walked out.

  She deliberately adjusted her focus away from Derek to the head of Chevalier. Had Lance recognized her? The odds were slim but not impossible.

  With more effort than it usually took, she schooled her features to her most bland expression. She held out a hand as she crossed the room. “We haven’t been introduced yet, Mr. Chevalier. Sasha White.” How she shook his hand when this man, more than any other, deserved her hatred, was a sheer act of will.

  Thankfully, she found no sign of recognition in his eyes. Then again, her father had kept Sasha as separated as possible from the men he served. Only the king knew her well—a childhood friend—but he was dead. Not so his surviving knights. One of whom stood before her now.

  Lance stood to grasp her hand. She judged his height to be approximately four feet. Tall herself, for a woman, she had to angle her head to meet his gaze. She’d always thought him handsome, with strong features reflecting his hard personality, jet-black hair and ice-blue eyes that she knew could turn piercing in anger.

  “Nice to finally meet you, Sasha.” Lance interrupted her mental dialogue. “Eddie’s raved about your work. Given your reputation, we feel quite lucky to have snatched you up.”

  She acknowledged his comment with a cursory smile. “I’m glad you’re pleased.”

  He waved toward the man beside him, who also stood. “I’d like to introduce you to Derek Arthur.”

  Shit. What did she do now? She never had a guy she kissed turn up in her workplace three days later.

  Time to suck it up.

  She pasted a smile on her face. “We’ve met.”

  Lance raised his eyebrows, glancing between them. “You have?”

  “We happened to end up at the same pub after work last Friday,” Derek explained. He held out his hand. “Nice to meet you again, Sasha.”

  To give the man credit, he wore a suit well, filling out the tailored jacket with his broad shoulders. Well-polished shoes peeked out from beneath the hem of navy, pin-striped slacks. She’d bet a six-pack lurked under the finely tailored white shirt. In an era when most men wore cargo pants and t-shirts, she had t
o admit to being a sentimental sucker for a guy in a suit.

  Reluctantly, she shook his hand. Her skin tingled at the contact as his large hand engulfed hers. He had nice hands. What would his tanned skin look like against her paler flesh? Heat zinged to her cheeks while at the same time pooling low in her belly, and she quickly extricated herself from his grasp.

  What was wrong with her?

  She moved around the table to sit on the opposite side, as far away from him as possible. “The meeting invite didn’t include any details. Do you have a special stone that needs cutting, Mr. Arthur?”

  The man whose will she couldn’t compel leaned back in his chair. “Call me Derek, please.” His intense gaze dared her to reject the offer.

  “Of course.” She did not give him permission to do the same.

  “Derek is in security,” Lance said.

  “Oh?” Sasha was proud of how her voice didn’t waver over the word even as she swore in her head. Forewarned was forearmed. “I hope you aren’t having trouble with stones going missing with the gem cutters?” she asked her boss.

  Lance’s blue eyes intensified, the color darkening as he leaned forward, elbows propped on the modern glass tabletop, fingers laced. “What I’m about to tell you is confidential.”

  “Of course.”

  “We have a burglar who has been casing the upper floors.”

  Deliberately, she widened her eyes. “The vaults? What was taken?”

  “And our offices.” He sat back. “Nothing. Yet.”

  “Then how do you know—?”

  “We didn’t at first, but things would be moved around. Nothing big. A picture was angled differently on my desk, for instance. And a box in the vault had been tampered with, though not opened, as far as we can tell. Nothing was missing. Given the value of the jewels held at this location, we brought in Derek as both investigator and a secondary security expert. He installed a new set of cameras, catching the intruder on video.”

  Everything inside her went cold. Video.

  “But the thief didn’t take anything?” Sasha glanced at Derek. His calm demeanor gave nothing away.

  “No.”

  She slid her finger over her bottom lip, a nervous gesture from childhood that she immediately stopped, tucking her hands onto her lap. “I’m still not sure why I need to be involved.”

  “Derek has determined the intruder is casing the place. This person is planning the theft still.”

  “Okaaaaay.” Get to the frickin’ point already.

  “He is going to implement additional security, of course. In addition, Derek will be posing as one of the employees.”

  The threads of dread tightened to a knot in her stomach.

  “We’d like him to pose as your apprentice.”

  Some wizard with a twisted sense of humor had to be screwing with her. No way could fate be this cruel. Again, the kiss they shared flashed through her mind. In Technicolor detail. Sasha crossed her legs to alleviate the tension building inside her. “As one of the newer employees in the building, wouldn’t I be under scrutiny as well?”

  “I spent the last week reviewing employee records,” Derek finally spoke up. “You have impeccable references from several jewelers who had no issues.”

  Only because she hadn’t taken anything, though she could have if she’d wanted to. She was after the Immortality Stone alone.

  He pulled a piece of paper out of a manila folder and slid it across to her. “In addition, according to badge scans, you weren’t in the building any of the nights the suspicious activity occurred.”

  Thanks to a few borrowed badges she returned the next day.

  “Of course,” Derek continued, “I’d still like to gather alibis and talk to witnesses to fully rule you out. But you were the most likely candidate to help with my cover story.” His deep voice sent a shiver down her spine, and Sasha sat up straighter.

  Most likely candidate, my arse. Fate wasn’t the villain here. Derek Arthur had probably planned this. Had the pub been a setup as well? What about that kiss?

  Derek cocked his head, his brown eyes practically daring her to say something.

  She had tons to say. Just not in front of her boss. Not when she still had a job to do. “I’m happy to help, of course.”

  “Excellent!” Lance stood. Apparently, the meeting was over. “I checked your current schedule with Eddie. Derek will start today. Take the day to show him around, introduce him to folks. Tomorrow you can get back to work.”

  “With an apprentice,” Derek clarified.

  She’d give money to see Lance’s face when he learned the thief’s identity. Apparently, she hadn’t been as slick as she’d thought while sneaking around. She’d be more careful in the future—after she wheedled information out of Derek about the additional security measures he’d put in place. Since her ability didn’t work with him, she’d have to use old-fashioned womanly wiles.

  She would check every stone in that vault with no one the wiser.

  Chapter 3

  She’s hiding something.

  For the briefest of seconds, when Lance Chevalier had shared their suspicion that someone appeared to be roaming around the building after hours, a burst of fear flashed in her eyes. So quickly, he would’ve missed it if he hadn’t been watching her closely.

  He shot a sideways glance at her as they walked toward her office. Sasha strode down the carpeted hallway with a confidence that belied her age.

  He’d been surprised to read in the employee records that Chevalier’s new master gem cutter was only twenty-five. For such a high position, he had expected Sasha to be well into her forties. Where had she gotten her experience?

  Not that he could talk. At twenty-eight, he could be considered young to be starting his own security firm.

  Still, after that odd flash of fear in her eyes, he needed to look into her background more, and he would have to find a way to get the information he needed without giving his cover away.

  It wouldn’t hurt to ask a few questions to start off. Something a normal apprentice would ask his mentor.

  He snorted. A woman younger than him as his mentor! He should be the mentor, and Sasha should be under him.

  Now that was a vision he could definitely get on board with, no matter how inappropriate the thought.

  The bright office lights enhanced her beauty more than the ambient light from the streetlamps on Friday night. Was her black hair as silky as it appeared? He shoved his hands farther in his pockets to prevent himself from reaching out and touching her.

  Kissing her.

  The distance between them could be eliminated in two steps. If he wanted, he could have her in his arms again.

  Bad idea.

  Sleep had been elusive over the weekend. He’d woken up tangled in his sheets from erotic dreams of him and Sasha together. Again the sense of déjà vu he’d experienced when they’d kissed washed over him. He would’ve remembered meeting her. Sasha was anything but forgettable.

  “Here we are.”

  Derek needed to focus on the reason why he stood next to Sasha White, lovely or not. And the goal wasn’t to get her into bed, no matter how much he wanted to taste her again. This new contract was crucial for his fledging security company. To land such a lucrative deal with a well-known company would give him the legitimacy he sought. Not to mention cement the company’s financial security. He’d sunk his life savings into starting his company, and it was finally beginning to turn a profit. If he fucked up this job, he could kiss any future profit good-bye. No one would want to hire him if he let someone steal Chevalier’s uncut stones.

  “Do you plan to stand outside all day like a shy teenager?”

  It seemed her snark from Friday night wasn’t because she’d been hit on. Interesting someone so young could sound so bitter.

  “Are you always this short with your coworkers?” he drawled as he sauntered into her work area.

  “You’re not a coworker, though, are you? You’re someone I have to
babysit.” She pulled out her black leather executive chair and sat, not inviting him to make use of one of the smaller chairs across from her.

  Being a master gem cutter, she had her own space, and looking around, it became clear Chevalier management wanted to give Sasha her every comfort. A large wooden desk adorned the back of the room, covered in her work tools. The surface of the desk at which she currently sat was as shiny as his dress shoes and clear of clutter. Her pens rested in a multicolored holder. Piles of papers and folders were neatly stacked in metallic grey trays. A closed laptop rested in the middle, with a larger monitor off to the side. A wall of windows gave her a nice view of the dome of St. Paul’s Cathedral and glimpses of the river Thames as it wound its way through the city.

  A pale lemon lab coat hung from the coat stand in the corner. Interesting that she’d chosen such a happy color. Given her abrasive personality thus far, he would’ve thought clinical white or maybe black. But yellow?

  “Nice space you’ve got here.” Perhaps a casual conversation would lighten the mood hanging between them like bad breath.

  She didn’t even bother to glance his way. “We’re not here to discuss the décor of my office. We’re here because I have to show you around.”

  “Is your office where everyone meets?” He made a show of looking around. “I don’t see anyone. Did you send them all away?”

  She leaned back in her chair, a decided twinkle of mischief in her eyes. “Let me guess. You’re former military?”

  He blinked, and she apparently took that small sign of surprise as affirmation.

  “If this is how you plan to ask people questions, you need to work on your technique. If you want to find out information, you have to ask in a way that invites people to share their secrets with you,” she continued.

  Derek sidled over and hitched himself up on the corner of her desk. Her perfume, a light floral scent, both sultry and innocent, curled around him. “Are you good at drawing out secrets, Sasha White? Or are you good at hiding them?”