Jealousy & a Jewelled Proposition

by Yvonne Lindsay

  “The shouting?” Matt prompted.

  “It was awful. Howard and Oliver were toe to toe. I really thought they were going to come to blows. Howard had his fist knotted up in Oliver’s shirt front and was accusing him of stealing the necklace. Of course your father denied it but Howard was vicious in his attack, even going so far as to accuse your father of somehow being behind James’s kidnapping! I couldn’t believe my ears, no one could, but Howard was like a man possessed.”

  “What did Dad do?” The words his father had spoken had become legend in the tabloids, but the actual facts had been muddied by various tellings over the years.

  “You know your father.” Katherine smiled. “Never one to back down from a challenge or to accept unjust behaviour. I can hear his words as clearly in my head now as he said them that night. He plucked Howard’s hand off his shirt front and told him he’d take diamonds from him in an instant, but never a child. It was the last time Oliver spoke to Howard, ever. Of course what he’d said just made everyone think he had somehow stolen the necklace but now you’ve proved he didn’t, and with the truth out about James, as well, hopefully we can put all this behind us.”

  “Put it behind us? You have to be kidding! The Blackstones will pay for what they put you through.”

  Rachel got up from the table where she’d been supervising Blake as he coloured in a book.

  “Matt, stop it, you’re upsetting your mother. Can’t you see this has been difficult enough for her?”

  She perched on the arm of Katherine’s chair and put her arm around the older woman’s shaking shoulders. Katherine gave her a watery smile of gratitude and swallowed hard before facing her youngest son.

  “We’ve already suffered enough for the past thirty years. Your dad asked Sonya to come back home with us but she insisted Ursula needed her. She couldn’t abandon her sister, not after everything she’d been through. Oliver told Sonya that when Ursula was better he wanted both of them to leave Howard, to come home. But they stayed.” Katherine squeezed Oliver’s hand gently, a sad smile pulling at her lips. “He felt as if they chose Howard’s care and protection over his. It created a division between all of us that’s never healed.”

  “Which is exactly why this isn’t the end of things.” Matt paced the width of the room, coming to a halt in front of his father. “I’m bringing them down, Dad. All of them. By the end of the month I’ll hold enough shares to have controlling interest in Blackstone Diamonds. It’ll be ours, just as it always should have been.”

  Rachel froze. A cold chill crept over her skin. Matt sounded so bitter, so driven. He’d always been focussed, even as a teenager, but this was different. This bordered on obsession. Suddenly her share broker’s recent repeated e-mails made sense. For a couple of months he’d been asking her if she wanted to sell the stock she held in Blackstone Diamonds—stock which formed a large part of her investment portfolio. Obviously Matt had been working for some time to buy out other shareholders in his single-minded objective.

  As much as she loved him, she had no desire to see him succeed in this venture. It was born of hatred and could only continue to fester, even if he achieved his goal. It wasn’t healthy, for him or for anyone around him.

  A worried frown creased Katherine’s brow.

  “Matt, are you sure you’re doing the right thing? What about Kim? Have you discussed any of this with her?”

  Matt’s face hardened at his mother’s words.

  “I know what I’m doing is right. And as for Kimberley, she made her choice when she left us at the beginning of the year.”

  “That’s not entirely fair, son. Her father had just died. She had to go home.” Katherine’s hand fluttered up around her throat.

  “Home? It’s where the heart is, isn’t that what you always taught us? Well, her heart obviously lies in Sydney with Blackstone Diamonds because that’s where she stayed.” He bent down to wrap an arm around his mother’s shoulders. “Mum, we’ve let them take enough. It’s time to bring it to a halt.”

  Rachel’s heart squeezed in sympathy as she watched the battle of emotion play across Katherine’s features.

  “But when will it end, Matt? When will it end?” his mother asked, the tremor in her voice betraying her anguish.

  “When everything that bastard took from us is restored to Hammond hands, and not before.”

  “And Blake? Where does he stand in all this?” Katherine persisted.

  Matt visibly stiffened. “What do you mean?”

  “What the papers are saying about Howard and Marise. About Blake.”

  “He’s my son. That’s all that matters.”

  “Are you certain? Can you live with not knowing for sure?”

  Rachel felt as though she was caught on the periphery of a Greek tragedy as she watched the scene before her unfold. Her heart ached and her eyes burned with unshed tears as she saw the fleeting shaft of pain in Matt’s eyes. He held himself so rigid, as if to give voice to that pain would see him crumble.

  He looked straight at the little boy at the dining table, happily absorbed in his activity and oblivious to the undercurrents swirling around them. As they watched, Blake pushed back his hair from his face, exposing the widow’s peak at his forehead. The genetic hairline trait that was identical to Howard Blackstone’s.

  Matt’s response was emphatic and final. “He’s mine.”

  When they’d arrived home at the Hammond residence, Matt had told Rachel her services weren’t required over the weekend. The first Monday in June being New Zealand’s observance of the Queen’s Birthday meant it would be a long weekend, and he told her he had no plans to go into the office and was more than capable of managing Blake on his own for the next three days. He suggested she needed the break, given all the extra days she’d worked for him lately, but Rachel was certain that Matt wanted the break from her more.

  Disheartened by the realisation, she’d packed up some of her things into a weekend bag and gone back to her serviced apartment, telling herself the time off would be welcome no matter how it pulled at her heart to be away from him.

  On the Saturday morning Rachel got in touch with her mother, who mentioned her sister was in better spirits but struggling with everyday things like bathing, so she’d be staying on at least until the end of the month. Taking advantage of the unexpected leisure time, she spoiled herself with long walks, soaking up the blustery wind conditions on Takapuna Beach and relishing the sight of the churning water with its garnish of white caps, catching up on her reading and watching a little television.

  She was thoroughly sick of her own company by Monday night and had flicked over the television channels to watch the latest edition of a worldwide syndicated current affairs programme. She was about to flick back to the crime drama she’d been watching when a photo of a little boy made her sit up.

  What the heck was a photo of Blake doing on the television?

  There was one thing Matt had been vigilant about in the entire media circus that had erupted with Marise’s death, and that was that Blake should never be subjected to public scrutiny. It had made the transition from car to building at his preschool an ongoing challenge. While Blake had been happy to play a game of hide and seek for a week or so earlier in the year, it had soon grown lame. It had been a complete relief to both Rachel and her charge when the interest in the circumstances around Marise’s death had dwindled to the occasional tabloid speculation.

  Matt would be furious that she’d somehow failed to protect Blake from being photographed. A lump formed in her throat at the thought that she’d somehow failed both of them.

  She turned up the sound on the remote. All the fine hairs on the back of her neck stood at full attention as the announcer’s voice introduced the next segment.

  “And coming up next in tonight’s show we have the amazing story of James Blackstone, better known as Jake Vance—the little boy who came back from the dead.”

  James Blackstone? The returned Blackstone son? But how, when
the photo was so like Blake? The similarities were too obvious to be overlooked. Oh no, please no, she thought as she dropped to her knees and scrabbled around in the TV cabinet for a blank DVD to put in the recorder. It could only mean one thing, and that would destroy Matt completely.

  With a shaking hand she set the recorder, then sat back to watch the segment. Twenty minutes later her head was reeling.

  With her mother working for the Hammonds, as she had for so many years, Rachel had grown up knowing a little of the mystery surrounding the disappearance of Howard and Ursula Blackstone’s first-born son, even though it had happened long before she was born. When the furore had erupted last month over his return to the family fold she had paid scant attention. It was all too little too late for the mother who’d committed suicide and for the father who’d died before the truth was known.

  But the story she’d just seen cast an entirely different shadow on the whole drama. One that would impact the man and the child she loved beyond all else.

  On Tuesday morning the DVD burned a hole in her bag as she let herself in Matt’s house. He and Blake were in the kitchen finishing breakfast, and Blake jumped down from his chair to run and give her a massive hug as she came into the room.

  “Hello, handsome. Did you have a good weekend?”

  “I missed you. Why didn’t you come see me?” he demanded, giving her another chubby-armed squeeze for good measure.

  “You were busy with your daddy. It was special time, just for the two of you. Did you have fun? Tell me what you got up to.”

  She let the chatter of Blake’s weekend run over her like a balm. They’d been busy by the sounds of things.

  Matt got up from the breakfast table and put his things in the dishwasher.

  “I’m glad you’re early. I need to get away early today, too.”

  So he was going to be all business, was he? It hurt that he could shut himself down like that. Had he even spared her a thought over the weekend? He’d certainly been on her mind.

  “Before you go, I was hoping you’d have a few minutes. I have something you need to see.” She took the DVD case out of her bag and showed it to him.

  “It’ll have to wait until tonight,” he answered coldly.

  Rachel put her hand on Matt’s arm to stop him walking past her. Through the fine cotton of his shirt sleeve she felt the muscles of his forearm bunch into a knot, as if he couldn’t bear her touch.

  “Matt, people will be talking about this. I saw a television van at the front gate when I arrived today. Please, you need to see the DVD.”

  “What is it?” he demanded, shaking her hand off his arm and taking the disc.

  “There was a feature on Jake Vance last night.”

  Matt snorted. “Jake Vance? James Blackstone, you mean.” He shoved the disc back in her bag. “Thanks, but no thanks. I have no interest in hearing about the ‘second coming’ again.”

  “It’s more than that, Matt. Look!”

  Rachel grabbed the case from her bag and popped out the disc, inserting it into the DVD player attached to the small TV set fitted into the custom-built kitchen joinery.

  The programme started and the screen filled with the photo that had arrested her in her tracks last night. The photo of the young boy who looked just like Blake at the same age.

  “Hey, that’s me.” Blake’s voice came from the doorway as he came back into the kitchen.

  “No, honey, that’s your cousin. His name is Jake.”

  “Jake. Blake. Jake. Blake.” He started to run around the room, chanting as he went.

  Matt picked him up in his arms and whispered something Rachel couldn’t hear, but whatever it was, Blake fell silent and when Matt put him down again he raced away. She heard his feet hammering up the stairs.

  Matt watched the DVD in absolute silence, reaching over to switch off the set when the segment reached its end.

  “What are you going to do, Matt?”

  “Nothing.”

  Rachel was incredulous. “Nothing? How can you say that?”

  “It doesn’t prove anything. They look alike. It happens.”

  “Look alike? They could’ve been twins. That likeness didn’t happen by accident.”

  “So you’re telling me that the media is right? That Marise was not only being unfaithful to me when she died but she was already pregnant to Howard Blackstone when she married me? You think this proves Blake isn’t my son? You’re overstepping the mark, Rachel. Back off.”

  “Surely you can see you have to find out now. The press is going to be all over you again, and all over Blake. Please, for both your sakes, find out for certain.”

  “Perhaps you didn’t understand me last Thursday night, Rachel. Blake is my son. No paternity test will change that.”

  She wouldn’t give up. She couldn’t. Both of them needed the truth more than anything if Matt was to be able to continue to forge a strong bond with his boy. And, if the evidence that presented itself was true, Blake had a whole other family he deserved to be a part of. She had to push one more time.

  “It might not change the legalities, Matt, but have you asked yourself why you’ve spent so much time away from home, away from Blake? Could it be that deep down you’re afraid the rumours are true?”

  Six

  Anger flooded him like a tidal wave. How dare she insinuate he was deliberately staying away. Him? As an adopted child, he knew better than anyone that it made no difference who donated to your gene pool. Your father was exactly that. Yours. And you were his. As Blake was his.

  But before he could unleash his fury and tell Rachel in no uncertain terms where she could stick her accusations, a pinprick of doubt stabbed at his mind. Had he subconsciously done exactly as Rachel had suggested? Was his need to be Blake’s biological father stronger than he even dared admit to himself? Not for the first time he rued the estrangement between himself and his cousin Kim. This was just the type of thing they’d have been able to discuss at length in the old days, weighing the pros and cons of each scenario. True, there’d been a little distance between them when he’d married Marise—Kim had expressed surprise at the whirlwind courtship—but their working relationship had always been incredibly strong. It had been bolstered by a kinship they’d built together because they’d wanted to, not because they were related.

  He reminded himself of her betrayal. Even she’d reverted to kind when the chips were down.

  Was that what he was afraid of? That Blake would want to be a Blackstone when he grew up? No. The thought was impossible to contemplate.

  “I’m late for work.” He snatched up his briefcase and headed for the garage before Rachel could say another word.

  Leaving later put him in the thick of rush-hour traffic, and as bad luck would have it, there was an accident on the harbour bridge. He cursed his decision to drive into work today. The ferry would’ve been swifter and simpler all round, but he’d planned to stay late to catch up on work he’d missed during the foray to Tahiti.

  His gut clenched into a tight ball of frustration as the memory of Rachel’s silky-soft skin beneath his hands flooded his senses. Tahiti—he’d been crazy to take her, but she was like a dog with a bone over the issue of Blake, and he didn’t have the time or the energy to fight her. He should have. He should have put his foot down, made it clear in no uncertain terms he was the boss, she the employee. Except he’d crossed that line. Crossed it well and truly.

  Goodness only knew he’d been on the verge of total loss of control at her touch. It had taken an immense strength of will to pull away and not to finish what they’d started.

  And now it wasn’t enough that she’d seeded herself under his skin, ensuring his nights were plagued with wanting to sink himself into her soft, warm curves again and again until he purged himself of the last hellish few months. No, now she’d insinuated her thoughts into his mind, questioning the thing that defined him most.

  Fatherhood.

  By the time he swung into the basement car parki
ng of his building he was in a filthy mood—a state of mind not helped in the least by the brash visual reminder of the Blackstone’s storefront dominating the adjacent corner to House of Hammond. Blackstone had been on his way to Auckland for the official opening when the plane carrying him and Marise had gone down. If the man had wanted to create a more dominant reminder of his unfortunate influence on the Hammonds’ lives he couldn’t have chosen a more obvious statement to do it with.

  Well, Matt would see to it once and for all that there were no more questions. If settling Blake’s paternity was what it took to rid himself of at least one persistently niggling problem then that’s exactly what he’d do.

  It was surprisingly easy to research paternity testing in New Zealand, and Matt was relieved to discover that, confidentiality guaranteed, he could acquire a home testing kit. After all, the last thing he wanted to do was take Blake with him to a diagnostic lab with reporters trailing behind them.

  With the home testing kit he could courier the samples to the lab and for an additional fee have conclusive results within three to five days. He clicked on the order form on his computer screen requesting the kit. One way or another, he’d soon know the truth about Blake.

  But one question still plucked incessantly at his mind. Even if Blake was conclusively proven to be his son, had Marise, in a final fit of defiance, been having an affair with Howard Blackstone when she died?

  The next few days passed in a blur of activity at House of Hammond. The shipment of baroque black pearls had arrived, together with the first of the Pacific pearls Matt had incorporated to be set into existing designs. His hands itched to get back into his workroom so he could work up some samples, but all the while, in the back of his mind, he was waiting for that one phone call that could set his mind at rest.