by Kat Faitour
Taylor Diamond Corporation owned several mines throughout the world, but their most prolific sites were located in the central region of South Africa. The heart and soul of their business empire had originated from the scores of diamonds mined there. But lately, output had been sporadic, steadily diminishing until they feared at least one of the major mines had been exhausted.
Margaux’s father set down his tea, rattling the cup in its saucer. His skin, fair like her own, was slightly ruddy, she noticed. He cleared his throat.
“Good news.” His voice boomed in the silence of the tearoom. Flushing, he dropped his chin, and with it, his volume. “The men found another lode. The mine is fine. Healthy.” He cleared his throat while running a finger along the inside of his shirt collar. “As I told you it would be.”
“You did, Daddy. But optimism alone won’t keep a mine supplied in diamonds. Eventually, that mine will be exhausted. You know it. We all know it.” She edged forward on her seat. The smell of gardenias was ripe in the air, complemented by the faint scent of bergamot from their teas. “When I last visited, the miners were fairly certain it was tapped out.” She frowned a little. Julian tensed beside her. “I’m surprised they could be so wrong.”
Sweat beaded her father’s upper lip. He wiped it away with a linen napkin, his eyes cast downward to where Melanie rested her left hand lightly over his. An enormous oval canary diamond with a matching eternity band adorned her third finger.
It was a complete contrast to the plain gold band Margaux’s mother had worn.
“Well, they were wrong.” Her father’s statement brought Margaux back to the present. “And we should be glad for it.”
Her eyes met his. He’d shifted his body so it was slightly turned away from her, facing toward Melanie. It was so indicative of the state of their relationship these days that Margaux bit back a sigh.
She twisted the napkin lying in her lap. “I am glad.” She forced a smile. “And I’m so pleased to see you.” Instinctively, she reached for his hand. After a slight hesitation, he flipped his over to grasp hers. “Perhaps we can have dinner soon before I return to Antwerp.” Her father worked from the company’s head offices in London, but Margaux based herself in Antwerp, where the diamond trade was headquartered.
Pulling free, her father leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. “About that, Margaux. I’m afraid you’ll have to make a visit to South Africa before returning to Belgium.”
“Why?” She tilted her head. “You were just there. Why would I go?”
His gaze darted from hers. “There’s a large rough diamond lot from our mine. I need you to pick it up so it can be traded directly in Antwerp.”
“Why didn’t you bring it back with you?”
“Because it wasn’t catalogued. Besides,” he said, his brows lowered, “I want you to do it.”
Margaux shot him an incredulous look. “You’re issuing orders without explanation like you did when I was about five, Daddy.” She shook her head. “You’re not making any sense. Why wouldn’t you have waited for the diamonds? It wouldn’t have taken more than a day for Andrew to finish cataloguing them. What’s this really about?”
Her father continued to look anywhere but at her. Margaux watched as he drummed the table with his fingertips before Melanie slipped her hand into his, effectively stopping the movement.
He took a deep breath. “There’s no mystery, darling.” He flashed a smile that never reached beyond his mouth. “I have more pressing business here in London to take care of rather than traveling on to Belgium, which is where you’re based anyway. Plus, the diamonds need to be assessed. I’d like a complete report from you about what we can expect in terms of cut, clarity, and carats.”
Margaux’s mouth nearly dropped open. Her father was speaking as if he were a rookie salesman in a chain retail jewelry store. “And what about the fourth ‘C,’ Daddy? Do you need me to assess color too?” she asked, straight-faced.
His face reddened further. “Don’t take that tone with me.” The words were low and forceful.
“I think I will.” Margaux refused to back down. “You sound like you’re about to deliver a lecture titled Diamonds 101.” Julian gripped her forearm in an attempt to deflect her. After several moments, it worked. Margaux felt months of frustration seep out of her, leaving her to sag a little in her chair. “I’m sorry. But lately, you speak to me as if I haven’t spent the last decade working at your side.” She inhaled. “And I’m worried there’s something you’re not telling me.”
She gasped a little as Julian’s grip tightened to the point of pain. Immediately, he released her, murmuring an apology.
She looked from one man to the other, desperately confused as to why everyone seemed to be acting out of character. Only Melanie seemed perfectly normal, her expression pleasant if a bit vacant.
Julian leaned down to whisper into her ear. “I’m sorry.” His voice brimmed with remorse. “But take it easy. It’s not just you and your father here. Don’t embarrass him.”
His words were as effective as a slap. She sat up, her spine snapping to attention. “I apologize, Daddy.” By questioning his decisions, she’d only managed to further alienate the father she adored. For the hundredth time, she silently thanked the gods for Julian. “Of course I’ll go to South Africa. I’ll email a report to you as quickly as possible. And I’ll be happy to transport the lot back to Antwerp with me.”
“Yes.” Her father tapped his index finger against his lower lip. “In fact, I’d like Andrew and his team to cut and polish the stones in our lab. We’ll sell this lot finished, rather than rough. They’ll fetch more at the auction that way.” He turned to Julian, his gaze direct. “You’ll accompany Margaux.”
It wasn’t a question, but Julian met the other man’s eyes and nodded. “Of course.”
“Then I’ll leave you to make the arrangements.” Her father grasped Melanie’s hand and pulled her upright in preparation to leave, even though the stand with its sandwiches, scones, and pastries remained untouched. “Please go as soon as possible.”
With that, he turned his back and walked out of the restaurant with his beautiful, young bride at his side. Julian rushed to accompany them to the exit.
Margaux was left staring, her only comfort a cold cup of tea.
* * *
Mason took his seat at the head of the long, bleached oak farm table. Clara Bridges, the retired headmistress from the school in Johannesburg, sat on the opposite end while the other four people present lined the sides.
For as long as Mason could remember, Clara had called them her Orphans. Each of them had met as students and children in South Africa. All of them had suffered the terrible loss of a parent while they’d been there.
As it had been when they were young, it was Clara that gave them support, purpose, and direction.
And perhaps more importantly, a sense of belonging.
Almost thirty years had passed since that awful day when she told him about the accident. His father had died when one of the mines he was surveying collapsed. Five others perished alongside him.
Mason thought of his mother as the seventh casualty. She’d withdrawn, shutting herself off from everyone, including him. Within months, she’d left South Africa altogether, leaving Mason behind at his boarding school and in the care of Ms. Bridges.
His mother lived in Paris now. And Mason lived in this massive farmhouse outside of Antwerp in Belgium. It was his base, and it had become the unofficial but agreed upon meeting place for Clara and the Orphans.
His gaze drifted around the table, taking in the familiar faces. On his left sat Hope, the youngest of all of them. Beside her was Noor, who Mason knew would likely be the least vocal. Instead, her dark eyes would follow the conversation around the table, absorbing everything but revealing nothing.
On his right was Cullen, the one who tested, challenged, yet amused Mason.
And beside Cullen sat Ruby.
Unconsciously, the corners of M
ason’s mouth tilted upward. He loved them all, would do anything for every single one of them. But he’d be lying if he didn’t admit Ruby held a special place in his heart.
She was the little sister he’d never had. And whenever he was with Ruby, he couldn’t help but think of Liam.
If Ruby was his sister in spirit, then Liam O’Donnell was his brother. Had been, until impossible differences drove a wall between them.
Mason sucked in a breath then reached for his beer. Now wasn’t the time to be missing Liam. Besides being unproductive, it was painful. They’d been best mates for over half their lives. It hurt to imagine they might never speak again.
Besides, there was Ruby to consider. From the first day she’d laid eyes on him, Ruby had loved Liam with singular, heartbreaking constancy. When Liam defected, she’d lost more than anyone.
Thankfully, the woman in question was unaware of the dark turn Mason’s thoughts had taken. An iced tea sat on the table in front of her, but she was drinking Cullen’s beer instead, sneaking sips every time he looked away. Animated and gesturing wildly, she was attempting to tease Cullen into playing a game of poker after the meeting ended. Mason, as well as everyone else at the table, knew her taunts would succeed.
Then she’d fleece Cullen out of every dollar he had.
Amused once more, Mason laughed as he plotted how he might finally beat her. To date, she’d never lost a game to him yet. As far as he knew, Noor was the only one of the Orphans who’d managed to win. How she’d managed still baffled Mason as much as anyone.
He cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention. The sooner they discussed their business, the sooner Ruby could steal everyone’s money.
All eyes turned to him. He nodded to Clara, an unspoken direction for her to begin and the others to listen.
She folded her hands on the table before her. With age, her hair had turned silver, a striking contrast for her dark skin and deep brown eyes.
“It’s so good to see all of you.” She smiled, her face still defiantly ageless. “It’s been too long since we were together in one room. I’ve missed this.”
There were murmurs of agreement. Everyone adored Clara. She’d stepped up for each of them in their worst times. She’d comforted them, making sure loneliness couldn’t take too hard of a hold in the midst of grief.
“So let’s take care of business, then we can get on with catching up.” Her eyes ran over the other occupants at the table. Mason always felt as if she was seeing into him as well as through him. “First, let’s talk about the switches.”
It was Mason’s cue. “The quality of our lab-grown diamonds has steadily improved. While we’re still limited on size, I’ve been able to generate several flawless D color stones.” There were murmurs of surprise, but Mason simply shrugged. “Unfortunately, that can create its own problem.”
“What do you mean?” Cullen asked.
“Well, less than one-thousandth of a percent of mined diamonds are that perfect. Add in the fact that you and Hope are exceptional cutters and we have an extremely rare and valuable diamond.” Mason nodded at the both of them in acknowledgement. “Frankly, if we start producing too many of those, we’re going to draw some really bad attention to ourselves when we try the switch.”
An older gentleman stepped into the room, silently gliding around the table to refill beers. He sat a bowl of salted, blanched almonds in the center of the table, along with a tray of cured meats and aged cheeses.
“Thank you, Thomas.”
Thomas Sutton was Mason’s butler. When Mason turned twenty-five and inherited a massive settlement from the mining company his father had worked for, he’d bought this farmhouse in Belgium. Thomas had arrived the next day, stating unequivocally that he came with the house.
Over time, any reticence between employer and employee melted away. They’d become good friends, despite the differences in age and disposition.
As quietly as he’d entered the room, Thomas left.
“So you’re able to produce flawless, colorless diamonds. That’s still a bonus, even if we have to keep an inventory of those as they’re produced and only switch when it’s safe to do so.” Clara thrummed her fingers on the table, deep in thought. “It’s a great way to continually reinvest in our production. I’m sure my contacts can find buyers for perfect diamonds in channels outside the normal bourses.”
Worldwide, there were about thirty bourses, or marketplaces, where diamonds were traditionally traded. But as with all things in the diamond industry, there were ways around what was expected, normal, or even legal. The only true enemy to their operation was technology.
Mason chimed in with his concerns. “I agree it’s a good plan as long as everyone else is on board.” He scanned the faces at the table. Everyone nodded except Noor, but that wasn’t unusual. She often drifted into a world of her own. “Good. But it brings me to the foremost point I wanted to make today. Diamond authentication technology is catching up with us. Several diamond companies have developed compact detection devices at lower price points.” Mason frowned, thinking about the lengths the diamond producers would go in order to protect their market dominance. “We’re entering a period where we may not be able to pass off our lab diamonds to the traders.”
Silence greeted his comments. This was a stunning blow to their operation. They relied on producing diamonds that were easily switched with those that were mined. With the help of a few select insiders, they obtained information about lots coming up for auction. Once they knew the details and descriptions of the mined diamonds, they could arrange to switch out their nearly identical stones.
It was partly how they financed themselves. Clean diamonds reentered the marketplace, albeit through secondary routes. Conflict diamonds were never sold or traded. Rather, Clara kept a vault where they were stored in the event they might be needed.
The violence of the diamond industry had stolen their childhoods. What they did now was their way of taking something back.
But one of them had suffered more than the others.
“Ruby.”
She looked up, a rosy tint coloring her pale cheeks. “Hm?”
“It’s an adjustment. A shift. We’ve pivoted before, and this is no different. We just have to be creative.” He looked around the table, seeing he had everyone’s sharp attention. “And smart.”
Uncharacteristically, it was Noor who spoke up next. She had shifted her chair so it was angled toward him. Her eyes, black as onyx and unreadable, were fixed on him. Idly, she twisted one long lock of ebony hair that had fallen forward over her shoulder.
“Perhaps it’s time for more than a pivot, Mason.” Her voice was soft and melodic. “Perhaps we should re-examine why we’re here. And what we’re doing.”
“What do you mean?” This was from Cullen. “We know exactly what we’re doing.” He looked back and forth from Noor to Mason. “We steal diamonds. It’s what we do.”
The tension between Noor and Cullen was palpable. Ruby and Hope were silent, as was Clara. Not for the first time, Mason wondered if Noor should have been the other diamond cutter rather than Hope. As an appraiser, she worked closely with outsiders from their group. People who’d been born and bred into the diamond industry.
Noor was naturally warm and kind. She effortlessly gained other people’s trust and fellowship.
But Mason suspected the feelings went both ways. Of all of them, Mason felt she bore the heaviest burden. Because she regularly lied and deceived those she called friends. And it was not her nature to do so.
“Now that we are all clear on what we do, let’s move forward.” It was Clara, as usual, who intervened.
Noor swallowed whatever her next words would have been.
And Mason wondered if she would have said she was unhappy. Dissatisfied. That she wanted out.
He blinked. He would speak to her privately. Make sure she understood how valuable she was to him and the rest of the group. He’d lost Liam years ago. Mason couldn’t stand the
thought of Noor leaving too.
Clara was still speaking. “There’s a quantity of diamonds that will be coming out of Johannesburg soon if we don’t intervene. They’re from a conflict zone, but the company is trying to pass them off as mined from one of their legitimate South African operations.”
“Who? What company?” The question came from Hope.
“Taylor Diamond Corporation,” Clara answered. “They’re an old family with deep ties. But they’ve been suffering as of late. Their mines are running dry.”
“I know the name. They’re reputable, or at least they have been.” Hope cocked one eyebrow. “Are we sure?”
Clara nodded. “Unfortunately, yes. My source is impeccable.” She scanned the faces around the table, her deep brown eyes serious. “Maybe we can send a message. If something goes amiss with this lot, they’ll see that people are watching. And they’ll stop.”
Mason saw Ruby give a small shake of her head. But her attention remained on the table, where her thumb was running along an indention in the wood.
“So we’ll do a switch?” Cullen asked.
“No.” Mason interrupted before Clara could answer. “That wouldn’t serve the purpose of sending a message.” He looked at Clara with his brows raised in question. “What do you have in mind?”
“It’s good you asked, Mason.” Her mouth tilted in a tiny smile. “Because I want you to go steal them.”
* * *
Later, after everyone had gone down to the stables with Mason to check out his ever-growing menagerie of horses, Ruby sat at the table alone. Or at least she thought so until the faint scent of spiced vanilla reached out to greet her.
For Ruby, it was the smell of safety and protection, shelter and refuge. It was what home smelled like.
Ruby turned to the source, raising her chin. “Hey there, Ms. Bridges.”
She received a raspy chuckle in response.
“Hey. What are you doing in here all alone, child?” For all her years abroad, Clara still spoke with a native Mississippi dialect. And she still thought of all her Orphans as children.
