by Avery Aster
“What?” He couldn’t believe his ears. His father had dedicated his career to getting the United Diamond Congress (UDC) off the ground. This certification program insured that all stones coming from their homeland were mined fairly.
“Recently…UDC approved three Sierra Leone gems to sell. They are…blood diamonds.” Banja motioned for Dejon to take a folder from the nearby nightstand, while Dash poured him a glass of water from a pitcher on the dresser. Refusing the drink, he continued, “This outlines what stones they are…who bought them…where to find them…how and when to bring them back.” Barely able to get out the last word, Banja’s energy seemed to be fading fast.
“Daddy! What do you mean when you say ‘bring them back’?” Dejon’s brown eyes whitened.
“Steal.” Banja rubbed his chest as if it hurt him to say what he required of them. “Return the stones to the families…who lost loved ones…to mine them, son.”
Shit. Now I know why you didn’t want Mum to come with us. She’d be off her trolley.
“No,” Dejon voiced loudly. “We’re not doing that.”
Unexpectedly, Banja gripped Dash’s hand, urging him to silence his overly emotional twin. It reminded him of Banja’s absence during their childhood. Many times, Dash had found himself in a fatherly role. Born only seven minutes before Dejon, he often felt years ahead of him.
“For me, son, do this.” Banja blinked as tears puddled his eyes.
“Yes, sir.” Glaring at Dejon to agree, Dash answered for him. Come on, Dad is nearly gone.
Lips pursed, Dejon sat quiet, without a reply.
“Dejon?” Their father apparently didn’t anticipate refusal. “That’s an…order.”
“An order?” His twin’s tone turned sarcastic. On any other day, Dash could understand not taking a request from a man they hadn’t seen in over a decade. But right then, Dejon needed to be agreeable, doing as their father asked. This was Banja’s dying wish.
“No choice, son.” Coughing, Banja’s skin lightened from onyx to ash. The more Dejon didn’t agree, the faster their father seemed to kiss death in the face.
“We’ll get the stones back, Father. Dejon, tell Dad.”
Mouthing “no” in Dash’s direction, Dejon still wasn’t having it.
“Swear on Kamara…you’ll do this.” Banja spoke clearly. This wasn’t crazy talk, rather the real deal. Dash couldn’t believe they were being asked to pledge on their late sister’s name. “Promise…if not to me, then Kamara and the lives she saved…that you’ll act in her honor.”
“I don’t steal.” A flicker of anger shone as a bead of sweat on Dejon’s forehead. “And shame on you for bringing up our sister. Kamara was noble, but I will not fight with some mob, picking up wherever you two left off. Nor will I disgrace her legacy and fail trying.”
When Dash had grown older, he’d asked his mother why Kamara and Banja had fought the rebels. She’d replied, “Young women are forced to spend time with bad men they don’t love. Children’s limbs are broken off as if they were nothing more than plastic dolls and forced to work the mines. That’s why they’re called blood diamonds.” Her response had followed a fit of tears. Dash had never forgotten his mother’s words. He’d realized people bled for the vanity of jewelry.
Reminding himself of this, he wondered if what his father asked them to do was really considered stealing. The stones belonged to their town. To think of the luxury retailers around the world, selling blood diamonds to consumers who then gifted them as gestures of love and happily ever after, all coming from these killers, enraged him.
That’s it. Yanking Dejon’s arm, Dash got them on their feet. Out of their father’s earshot, he pushed him over to the corner of the room by the bookshelves. “Fuck, Dejon, what is wrong with you? Don’t be an arse. Just do this for all the people who’ve suffered.”
“We cannot go up against these warlords.”
“Sure we can.”
“If you want me to say we will, fine, to make Daddy happy. But we’re not actually going to steal these stones.”
“Dude, yes.”
“Balls up, this is fucked up. Are you out of your thick skull? What part of ‘no’ do you not understand? The N or the O? No!”
Same in size, both tall and broad, Dash never held back showing dominance. Open-palmed, he whacked Dejon on the back of the head for speaking to him sarcastically.
“Bugger off!” Fearing he’d be struck again, Dejon flinched, trying to block him.
“Agree to carry out Father’s last request.” He didn’t understand Dejon’s resistance. His brother would normally give the shirt off his back for anyone in need. Didn’t Dejon have any empathy for their native people in the mines? “You’ve changed, dude.”
Over the years, he’d shared everything in life with Dejon—similar passion for rugby, a Kensington circle of close friends, and often the same woman. Notably white girls with honey-colored hair, creamy skin, a tight pussy and an even tighter ass. How could Dejon not see eye-to-eye with him now?
“No, I haven’t. If anything, I’ve grown up.”
“This is because of that totty, Kiki Izatt, isn’t it? You’ve fallen arse over tit! It’s getting more serious, isn’t it?”
Ever since his brother had started dating her, he’d seemed different. Dash hadn’t met Kiki yet but felt certain his brother’s attitude came from Dejon thinking only about his American.
“Last week, while in New York, I asked Kiki to marry me. She said yes. I’m moving to the U.S. to be closer to her, before we hitch.”
“Bloody hell! How could you keep this from me?” Dash thought they’d shared everything. His assumptions on this New Yorker were right. “I need to meet her.”
“It’s too soon for that. You’ll ruin—”
He pressed his fingers on Dejon’s lips to shut him up. “We’ll talk about your girl later. Not here. This is about Dad. Not you.”
“Right.” Dejon pushed Dash’s hand away from his face.
“I bet these diamonds have sentimental value to our family.” Dash figured the stones must be in the hands of a designer, or maybe were being cut and polished at some off-site location, perhaps the Ivory Coast. “How hard could this be?”
“You wanna die repeating Kamara’s footsteps? Go right ahead. Not me!” Chest out, arms crossed, Dejon showed Dash he wasn’t afraid of him anymore. But Dash knew Dejon would back down. He always did. “Mum told us never to get mixed up in Daddy’s affairs.”
“Right, let’s not forget Mum.” Instinctively, Dash wrapped both hands around the back of Dejon’s neck, as if he might head-butt him. Nose to nose, he spoke harshly. “Kamara died for Dad. Mum moved us to London so we could have a better life. Now my days are spent working for her as Kamara had done for him. Don’t you get it?”
“Not really.” Without a care in the world, Dejon shrugged.
That nonchalant gesture almost sent his foot up Dejon’s arse, but he kept his cool. He’d let Dejon be heard. He finally knew his twin’s desire to go to the States. Well, not yet. “You haven’t done shit for this family.” Dash sprayed his words on his brother’s face. “I am doing this for Dad, for Kamara, and for the millions of women and children who have died over these stones. If you don’t agree today to help me, I will make certain you never get to the US.”
Dejon’s chin dropped hearing his brother’s threat.
“I’ll feed you to these rebels as if you were nothing more than a scoop of bread pudding. I mean it.” He didn’t, but Dash felt like showing him how some of these locals lived. Certainly not at this beachside mansion, behind armed guards, that was for sure. “You’re spoiled, a baby with no responsibility. When did you become such a selfish twat?”
“Fuck you, Dash.”
It was his brother’s chance to grow a pair of Turay’s famously hung balls. Dash would see to it. “Step up. We are no more British than we are African. It easily could’ve been us working in those mines, Dejon. Instead, we were born into the Turays, on the
other side of the glittery fence.”
“We don’t belong here.”
“Mum might’ve taken us away, but Dad is calling us back.” He licked his lips and then added, “Be a man before you bugger off making babies with the American.”
Muttering curse words, Dejon tried to pull away. Dash released him, recognizing that look on his brother’s face. His twin gave in. “Daddy…we’ll do whatever you need,” Dejon shouted dramatically.
Banja didn’t reply.
“Did you hear me? Daddy, I said we’ll do it. We’ll steal for you.”
He put his arm around Dejon’s shoulder. “See, you wanker, that wasn’t so hard.” Just as they walked up to the bed, Dash’s right foot stepped over the folder. The papers must’ve fallen while they talked.
Blimey fuck….
On his back, Banja stared up at the ceiling. His mouth hung open.
“Daddy’s gone.” Dejon hugged himself.
Taking his father’s hand in his, Dash checked for a pulse. When he couldn’t find one, he ran his palm over his father’s eyes and closed them. “We love you, Father.”
Girl Crush
Times Square, New York
Taddy
Taddy sat in her conference room studying her calendar. Tapping her python pump against the floor, she focused on how to make the impossible work. “Paloma, darling, this season’s exhibition schedule is tighter than one of Duchess of Alba’s facelifts. I’m not sure we can manage all these trade shows for you.”
“Sì, put another Brill girl on my account.” Paloma Tittoni, queen of all things bedazzled, daughter to the Royal House of Girasoli and sister-in-law to Taddy’s lifelong friend Lex Easton, winked a glittered eyelash at her. “We have oodles to do. Paloma Gems is all I have. It’s my life. My days of being melancholy with this bling business are over. This year, I’m not just doing jewelry, I am jewelry! Let’s take my baby public.”
“Now we’re talking my favorite language—money.”
“So, I need more than you. I need the mini-me version of you working on my account, too.”
“Ha.” Taddy laughed, gliding her red acrylic nails over the statement necklace dipped in 18 carat gold. Paloma had brought with her some of the upcoming collection. “I’ll have to double your retainer for that level of manpower.”
“Triple it. This is Paloma Gems’ year to kick Cartier’s French ass. Capisce?”
“Ohhh, you’re turning me on.” Taddy shifted in her seat. She adored her competitive clients almost as much as those willing to pay three times her fee. Nevertheless, who could she trust with these expensive pieces? “Anyone come to mind you’d want added onto your account? How about Ragan?”
“That Ragan is stupido.” Paloma flipped her long sable hair over her bare, Mediterranean-bronzed shoulder. “No. Paloma Gems requires a publicity executive who is in touch with the marketplace. One who will work harder than you have to get my media buzzing.”
“Duckie Capri? I could transfer him from Blake’s team. He’d do anything to be a part of the fashion and jewelry division. He loves his sparkles. Can’t say I blame him.” Taddy couldn’t help herself; she had to try the necklace on. Unfastening the clasp, she held the heavy bling up to her décolletage. I feel like effin’ Cleopatra.
“Your goose, duck, whatever you call him, is cute and connected. But he can’t spell. I’ve read his emails. No. Taddy, you know who I want. Let’s not waste another minute. Put that adorable Kiki on my account. She’s got spunk!”
Since hiring Kiki Izatt, she’d been protective of her. Nurturing her career step by step, she’d only wanted to see Kiki succeed. Paloma Gems would be a massive undertaking. Compared to her other clients, a jewelry brand had the highest cost of goods, thus the most room for failure.
“Kiki is recently engaged to a young man. A disc jockey who lives in London. I’m afraid her time might not be as focused as you wish, Paloma.”
“Is Kiki pregnant?” Paloma asked.
Her assistant was many things. Curious, quirky, intelligent, humble, and cute to the point where Taddy had wondered if she’d had a girl-crush on her. Nevertheless, pregnant or sexually active was not on the short or long list of adjectives to describe Kiki Izatt.
Lord, had she tried over the years to get Kiki laid. Taddy had flown her virgin ass around the world, hired the hottest (and most expensive) male escorts from Greece to take Kiki out on the town, had introduced her to the who’s who of the TriBeCa nightlife, had even offered up her muscular butler from Russia, as well as her ever-so-BDSM-kinky cosmetic surgeon who had a fetish for flat-chested girls, but nothing had worked.
That girl had held on to her chastity as if it were the last piece of couture Alexandra McQueen had ever sewn.
“God willing, but no. I have an idea, Paloma darling. I’ll have Kiki shadow me until we get to the Euro Diamond Expo in Stockholm. If she’s pulling her own, then she’ll be on your account full-time as the primary lead.”
“And if not?”
“Then Paloma Gems gets the fiercely connected Duckie Capri.” She’d buy him a dictionary.
“Deal!” From around her wrist, Paloma adjusted an oversized pink diamond bangle.
“Those stones are exceptional. Where are they from?”
“Sierra Leone.” Paloma slid the bracelet off her wrist and placed it on Taddy’s. “That reminds me of one more teensy-weensy thing we must discuss. Then we’re off to lunch at Cipriani, my treat.”
“Okay.” Familiar with clients who waited ‘til the last minute of their meetings to slip in some off-the-charts request, she grimaced. Hoping this wouldn’t require half a bottle of Xanax and a vodka martini to recover from, she encouraged, “Let’s hear it.”
“I want to talk to you about something I simply must get my hands on.” Her iPad appeared from her bag. She turned it on, tapped the screen a few times, and then slid it across the table.
An image of a semi-clear chunk of ice glared back at Taddy.
“How many carats?” Taddy asked. She’d never seen anything so precious and large. Well, other than her boyfriend’s cock, which she’d fondly coined ‘the anaconda,’ of course. She crossed her legs, feeling a stir in her pussy from the mere thought of her Big Daddy.
“Gemologists call it The Great Nova of Africa. It has four thousand Cs, give or take. It’s the largest diamond in the world. A few weeks ago, Kristie’s put it up for auction. A sheik from the Middle East bought it as a gift for actress Scarlett Johansson. She wasn’t amused and sent it back. It’ll be on display at the Style Gala’s auction party.” Paloma squealed, clapping her adorned fingers. “Oh, Taddy, I simply must buy it.”
“And do what with it, exactly?” Almost wet, her thighs clenched as she inched up and squared her shoulders against the seat. Luxurious things, especially diamonds, made her hot.
“Cut the stone. Use it in my next collection. Won’t that be the best media buzz?”
“Yes, very, darling. Huge. Now Paloma, I know your brand is doing well. Hell, you’ve squashed Miss Tiffany in editorial. But that sheik, he must be selling this for tens of millions of dollars.”
“Try hundreds of millions,” Paloma corrected.
“Is your brother, Prince Tittoni, making a financial investment in Paloma Gems?”
“No. Massimo’s hands are tied with Easton Essentials and Lex’s third pregnancy. I thought of asking…Warner Truman.”
“My boyfriend?” she asked as Paloma gave her a nod. “Warner buys hotels, not baubles. And even if I wanted him to do this, I’m not sure I could convince him.”
Warner had only been focused on two things since the day she’d met him: her happiness and his resort empire. Nothing else mattered to that man.
“Jiggle your gifts in his face.” Paloma’s attention shot straight for Taddy’s cleavage.
Taddy had always been proud of her breasts. Men loved them. Women were jealous of them. And whenever she played with them, letting Warner watch, he’d pretty much do whatever the hell she wanted.
“Meaning?” Pouting her lips innocently, she glanced down at her own set of knockers.
“I’m opening two boutiques in Warner’s hotels this year. It’s about time Warner invested. The more buzz I get, the more I sell, the more stores I open, the more mini-me’s of you I’ll need to retain. You follow me?” Paloma eyed the statement piece around Taddy’s neck and took her iPad back.
“You know I love my money right where I can see it, on my body. Perhaps I’d understand better if I had some Paloma Gems inspiration.” Letting out a slight sigh, she stroked the necklace perversely with pleasure. “I’m sure my Big Daddy, Warner Truman, would love my girls dressed up in this piece of fine craftsmanship.”
“Capisce. Cost me fifty Gs. It’s all yours.” With a flash of her white teeth, Paloma Tittoni, CEO of Paloma Gems, America’s hottest jewelry brand, radiated satisfaction. “Adorn a girl with jewelry and she can conquer the world!”
“Kiki will be tickled pink with this news. But we can’t tell her ‘til we get to Stockholm. I don’t want to get her hopes up.” Taddy sat back in her chair. She liked the sound of this, especially if they were going to take Paloma Gems public on the New York Stock Exchange within the year. Her assistant would shine, Warner would have another business to invest in, and Brill, Inc. would keep Paloma happy. Everyone wins. Right?
A Cold-Hearted Arse
Sierra Leone, West Coast of Africa
Dejon
Dejon cried for what seemed to be hours. He wasn’t sure why, since they hadn’t seen their dad in years. Was it the lost opportunity of ever getting to know Banja that made his death so hard to take?
Maybe….
But there was no time to be sad. He couldn’t believe his brother forced him into this mission. Dash always got whatever he wanted—their mother’s love, respect from everyone they knew, and tons of girls who flocked around him. Simply maddening.
I was so close to being free of you, Dash, and our life in England. What’s Kiki going to say about this? Could he keep their mission from her? He hated not being able to tell her. But he was used to it, especially when it came to his childhood.
