by Kat Faitour
Essentially, he balanced being an employee while serving as her friend and companion. They collaborated, brainstormed, and served as social partners to each other.
He was easier to handle than most of her male associates in that he posed no sexual interest to her. And, obviously, he’d never entertained any ideas of her as a potential bed partner either.
It worked.
Except for now, when she couldn’t find him. She shook her head, drawing close to the tall windows behind the desk. Below her, the Johannesburg business district was laid out like a jewel, lights sparkling in the buildings and along the streets like stars in the night. Their offices were located in a skyscraper with incredible architecture. From experience, she knew the modern lines of the building were designed to look like a diamond lying on its side. The glass exterior, in shades of darker and lighter blues, was angled like facets and would be reflecting the downtown back on itself.
She turned back around, taking in the contrasting style of her father’s office. It was his ‘home away from home’ when he ventured from London to visit Africa. The only nod to the building’s modernism was the color palette he’d chosen. The carpets were white, as were the sculptures dotted around the room. All the wood in the room was antique ebony, as were the vertical blinds that could be used to block the bright South African sun during daytime.
When her father was present, they remained shut nearly all the time. They served to close in the space, making it surprisingly intimate. Besides the sculptures, a couple of traditional Renaissance paintings dotted the far walls.
She paced over to one, running a delicate finger along the parcel-gilt frame. Tilting her head, she admired the expertise involved in creating such a masterpiece, even while she pondered what she would hang here instead, given her own choice.
She shook her head, mocking her whimsy. As much as her father valued her contribution to the business, it was still his office and would be for the foreseeable future. And if she were honest, Margaux would admit the idea of taking over held less and less appeal as the years marched forward.
Would she have chosen this life? Or, given the freedom, would she have walked a different path? One far from business and diamond mining? Was she here because she loved the business? Or because she loved her father?
Privilege was a tricky thing. She’d had opportunities and luxuries few might ever imagine. But the basic ability to choose her own vocation was denied due to the accident of fate that left her an only child and sole heir to the Taylor Diamond Corporation.
Her phone, forgotten in the pocket of her blazer, vibrated. Seeing the identity of the caller, she swiped to answer.
“Where are you?” she questioned without preliminaries.
“Delayed.” Julian’s tone was mild in return. “I’m stuck outside the city. My driver had a flat with no spare. We’re waiting on another car.”
Margaux chopped the air with one hand in frustration. “How long? Who’s we? And why didn’t you call?”
“Because I was in a dead zone. As I said, outside the city.” His voice softened further. “You know I like to get away from Johannesburg when we visit. Otherwise, I don’t feel like I’m in Africa.”
“Well, you picked a hell of a night for sightseeing, Julian.” They’d planned to take the lot of diamonds from the offices to the family apartment nearby, knowing the security there was even better than in the offices.
Unfortunately, Johannesburg suffered from unusually high burglary rates. Homeowners took extreme measures to guard against unlawful entry, and her family’s apartments were no exception. They were practically fortresses.
“I know,” he said miserably. “But I never thought this would happen. Unfortunately, I have our security detail with me.”
“What?” she exclaimed.
“It was supposed to be a quick trip outside the city limits. I brought them along knowing we’d come straight to you.”
Margaux realized she was chewing her thumbnail ragged. “So what do you suggest? Maybe we should plan on trying again tomorrow.” Margaux was prone to answering her own questions. Julian was adept at waiting for her to do so. “Yes, I think that would be easier.”
But this time, she was met with resistance. “Hmmm…” Julian drew out the syllable.
“What?”
“I booked this trip tight, Margaux. I reserved a few hours in the lab for you tomorrow, then we’re on a flight back to Antwerp.”
“Jesus, Julian. You didn’t give me much time. It’s a large lot of stones. I’m not even sure I’ll get through assessing them in one day.”
“You always overestimate the time you’ll need.”
“This lab doesn’t have all the equipment like the one in Antwerp. It will take longer.”
“Be that as it may,” he parried, “you can’t start if you don’t have the stones with you.” The Taylor labs were in a different location as the office building she stood in. No matter what, she’d need to transport them from this location first.
She stepped back to the window. It was dark outside, but her family’s apartments were only a couple blocks away. The lab was farther, or she’d consider taking them there. She tapped her lower lip, thinking.
“I’m not sure taking a cab would be any safer than walking them over.” Crime rates were notorious in Johannesburg. Taxi drivers were often corrupt, colluding with thieves in order to earn a percent of the final take.
“By yourself?” Julian sounded incredulous. “I don’t know about that, Margaux.”
“Well you’ve given me little choice,” she huffed in frustration. “The stones are here in the safe. They need to be in the lab for me to examine tomorrow morning at the latest. You are stuck in the godforsaken countryside along with my security. What else do you suggest?”
“Maybe you should take a taxi,” he placated.
She pondered his suggestion for all of a millisecond. Julian sounded genuinely concerned and remorseful. She knew she was being irrational, but she was still smarting from the meeting with her father before this trip. He’d made it sound like Julian was essential for her to function. Like she wouldn’t be able to accomplish anything without the help of her assistant.
Margaux could no longer count on her father for support. Somehow, he’d lost confidence in her abilities.
Well, Julian wasn’t available tonight. And, by God, she could handle this. In doing so, she could prove to herself—and everyone else—that she was capable.
“No, I’m walking,” she asserted. “It’ll take less time, for one thing. And frankly, I could use some air.” She walked to the door leading to the office’s safe room. “I’ll see you in the morning. Get back safely.”
She cut the call. She was on her own, and for once, she realized it felt entirely right.
* * *
A few minutes later, walking down the street in Johannesburg’s downtown business district, Margaux wasn’t as sure of herself. It seemed darker than usual, the lights from the lampposts and traffic being wholly absorbed by the blackened, overcast sky. The rain that had fallen earlier lay in carbon-colored pools that glistened like oil.
Her breathing was loud, but not enough to drown out the furious thunder of her heart. She clutched the metal briefcase containing a fortune in raw diamonds tightly to her body as her hands grew sweaty.
She pushed her legs faster, desperate to finish this fool’s errand and arrive safely in the family apartments.
Something skittered on the concrete behind her. She jerked her head but saw nothing.
The endless cups of coffee she’d drunk earlier while waiting on Julian soured in her stomach. Another sound, a shuffle, and a footfall had her freezing in place.
This was insane. Why on earth had she left on her own?
Gone was the false sense of bravado from earlier. She had no business being out after dark in Johannesburg alone, especially with a case full of diamonds.
Margaux forced herself to move again, but it was too late. Hard hands lande
d on her shoulders, pushing her to the ground. Rather than lose her grip on the briefcase, she went down body first, cracking her head against the dirty concrete.
Pain shot through her skull, taking her breath away for several precious seconds. Still, she kicked out, connecting with her assailant’s shin before twisting herself to lie fully on top of the case in a protective pose.
Distantly, through a foggy haze of confusion, she heard several dull thumps accompanied by hoarse grunts. She thought she smelled something antiseptic, like chemicals. Blood dripped into her eyes.
Then suddenly, the weight of her attacker was gone. Unsure what was happening, she curled even more tightly around the metal briefcase.
There were more thuds along with the sound of fabric tearing before she felt a presence descend and crouch next to her. A heavy hand landed on her back, and Margaux regained enough of her senses to realize she was still very much in danger.
She opened her mouth and inhaled sharply. But before the scream for help could erupt from her throat, a hand moved over her mouth.
“Shh.”
She bit down, hard, and the man growled out a low curse. He kept his hand in place but moved his mouth closer to her ear.
“I’m not here to hurt you! I’m helping you.” The pressure of his hand eased, and she lashed out with her teeth again. The taste of blood flooded her mouth. He was obviously bare-handed.
She pulled away and opened her eyes. The man’s face and head were uncovered, revealing tanned skin and thick, slightly wavy, dark-brown hair. She blinked, trying to clear her vision.
He reached out, palm outward, but Margaux could only stare in confusion. His eyes, a beautiful shade of dark green, were looking back at her. She swore she saw kindness in their depths.
Something in her response—or non-response, really—must have reassured him, because he tentatively touched his fingertips to her face. When they came away, she saw they were coated in blood.
Startled by the sight, she reached up to rub at her eyes, then winced at the pain. Nervously, she groped for the briefcase and resumed hunching her body tightly around it.
“Shh.” Margaux realized he’d been chanting the sound since the first time he uttered it. “You’re cut. Let me help you.” He looked around then met her eyes again.
“He’s gone. The man who attacked you. I didn’t get a good look, but he definitely ran away. Let’s get you somewhere safe.”
A sob escaped Margaux before she could choke it back. Reality was setting in, and with it, shock.
Her entire body trembled, and she was freezing cold despite the warm weather. Gently, her rescuer helped her upright while being careful to stay away from the metal case she still clutched close to her shaking frame.
“Can you walk?”
She nodded, incapable of speech.
“I can take you to my hotel, but it’s a few blocks from here. Uphill. Do you have somewhere closer I can take you?”
She stumbled back, fear roaring up in her again as she realized he was determined to take her somewhere. Didn’t they always say to never leave the scene of the original attack? It’s how people were abducted and not ever seen again. Hell, she was clutching the only ransom he could possibly want in her arms.
She was going to die.
Margaux backed up farther, but the man remained where he was, eyeing her with frank concern. He held his hands up again, palms outward.
“I won’t touch you, but I can’t leave you like this. Let me help you get somewhere safe. Or let me call someone who can come help you.”
“Why’d you cover my mouth?” The question burst from her. “Who are you?” She was shrill, panicked. A distant part of her wondered if she was going to pass out.
The man also took a step back, then gestured into the space between them in the way one might gentle a horse. “I’m going to reach into my back pocket.” At her obvious alarm, he hastened to add, “For a business card and my ID. So you know who I am.”
Margaux watched, terrified yet frozen in her fright as he reached behind him. If he had a gun tucked into his waistband, she’d be dead before she took two steps to run.
He brought out a leather wallet and flipped it open so she could see his photo identification card through a clear plastic laminate pocket. It was a driving license for Belgium. While she continued to read his information, he pulled a business card from one of the pockets slotted behind his identification. He held it out flat so she could read it and match the names.
“Mason Graff.”
“Yes. That’s me.” He spoke softly.
“You’re Belgian?” She continued to look at him, assessing his appearance. He was of average build, a little taller than most men but lean. She swore the man who initially attacked her and threw her to the ground was larger.
The man in front of her, while obviously fit, was not bulky. His face was friendly and open. Handsome in an average way. “You could say I’m a world citizen.” He shrugged. “But Belgium has been my base for some time now.”
She took the card and released the long breath she’d been holding.
“You didn’t attack me.”
There were creases at the sides of his eyes, and they crinkled a little, but he remained in place, hands outward. “No.”
“You helped me.” Her voice was hoarse and cracked a little. Her shoulders began to slump, and she could feel her knees beginning to give way. “Oh, God.”
Suddenly, he was beside her, and one strong arm wrapped around her shoulders to hold her upright. “Easy now.” He walked her to a nearby bench, practically carrying her. When she was settled, he met her eyes with a level look. “Just rest for a bit.”
Margaux was fumbling to keep her grip on the case, but the effects of her fall along with the stress of her attack were taking their toll. It slid from her grip, banging against the concrete sidewalk.
The stranger reached down and picked it up. Margaux’s heart stopped then stuttered back into life as he held it for one second before calmly placing the case on her lap. He anchored it by moving her limp arms to rest on top.
She could have wept with gratitude.
Minutes passed where the only sound was her labored breathing. Finally, she managed to regain a little control. She turned her body slightly to face him. She stuck out one hand, keeping the other locked around the case.
“Margaux Taylor.” He shook her hand, his expression earnest. Margaux wouldn’t have believed how comforting that could be. And despite her recent trauma, she instinctively trusted this stranger who had saved her. Besides, she couldn’t bear being alone again. And Julian was out of reach. “Will you take me home?”
He grinned, and she was struck by how the smile transformed his face. Suddenly, he wasn’t average at all, but wildly attractive. Her breath caught.
“Is that a proposition?”
She actually laughed, relief at having survived her mugging with diamonds and life intact making her giddy.
“Maybe.” She grabbed his hand, linking her fingers through his. “But seriously, I have an apartment one block away, just on the edge of the business district. Will you see me to my door?” She hated to hear the pleading tone in her voice, but there was a time and place for pride, and this wasn’t it.
He was staring back at her, serious now. Suddenly, Margaux realized she must look a fright. She tried to pull her hand from his to smooth her hair, but he held on tight.
He stood. In slow motion, she watched as he brought the back of her hand to his lips in a charmingly old-fashioned gesture of chivalry. The touch was gossamer light, his lips soft and dry.
Even in the terrible circumstances of their first meeting, she nearly melted into a puddle at his feet.
“I wouldn’t dream of leaving you to walk alone again. Tell me the way.”
* * *
As soon as he stepped into Margaux’s lavish, luxury apartment, Mason knew he’d made a mistake.
She still carried the case containing, he was sure, the entire lo
t of rough diamonds he’d intended to steal. But someone had beat him to it, or nearly so, except for his interference.
He raked a hand through his hair, tousling it further. The abandoned balaclava was tucked into a ball in his pocket. He’d pulled it off before she had a chance to see him in it and suspect his true reason for being in the right place at the wrong time.
“Excuse me. I’ll just put this away.” Margaux lifted the case, indicating what she meant. “Please, make yourself comfortable.”
Mason continued to look around, although his mind was elsewhere. Why hadn’t he just taken the damn case when he had the chance?
He could practically hear Ruby’s voice in his head, lecturing him over the years.
White Knight Syndrome.
That’s what she called it. His need to save anyone in a bad situation, especially women and kids.
The apartment was open plan, and he found himself in the living area next to an entire wall devoted to glass and chrome bookshelves. They reached all the way to the high ceilings, the backs lined with mirrors. Looking straight on, he stared at the grim-faced man reflected back at him.
He’d blown it.
He could hear Margaux in a room nearby, probably putting the stones in a safe he would have absolutely no way to access. Mason rolled his shoulders then rotated his head. His neck was knotted with tension, and he could feel the beginnings of a dull headache.
“Just give me one more minute!” Margaux shouted the words from somewhere farther into the apartment.
Mason sighed. “No problem,” he shouted back. “I’m fine.”
He’d been staring at the objects on the shelves without seeing them. But while they contained some books, they were mostly filled with trinkets and art. There were awards and accolades, all celebrating Taylor Diamond Corporation for their commitment to human rights and the environment.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he muttered.
“I’m sorry, what was that?” Margaux glided into the room on bare feet that made no sound on the polished marble floor.
Mason spun around. Immediately, desire punched into him like a fist, nearly taking him to his knees. Her beauty, so stunning in photos, was amplified tenfold in the flesh. Slack-jawed, he clamped his teeth shut and concentrated hard to breathe.
