by Kat Faitour
She was a Taylor—a family as well known and established in diamond mining as any other. And while Mason himself worked in the industry, he kept as far from diamond mining as possible. He hated natural diamonds, and not only because a mine collapse had killed his father. He hated the irreversible environmental damage they incurred. And more than anything, he despised the human toll exacted for the price of a jewel. No stone, no gem, should be valued more highly than a human life.
Mason was so caught up in his dark musings he never heard Margaux approach until her arms stretched around his waist from behind, embracing him.
He released his breath. Everything about his situation was unexpected and complicated. And entirely his fault. He’d had no business sleeping with her. For Christ’s sake, he’d come to steal from her. Instead, he’d fallen into her arms and taken everything she was willing to give, even though he hadn’t rights to any of it.
He folded his hands over her forearms and gently pulled them away from his waist. Turning, he faced her.
Her lips curved into a smile that nearly undid him. Ethically, she was the embodiment of everything he stood against. Yet she’d bewitched and enthralled him in less than the span of two days.
And what did that say about his righteous morality?
“Good morning,” she said, obviously unaware of his tortured thoughts. She leaned forward and pecked him on the lips. “How about some breakfast?”
He bit his lip. Maybe just a little while longer. There was no need to be uncivilized, after all. Then he’d pack her up and send her away.
For both their sakes.
“Sure,” he murmured. “What would you like?”
“Pancakes—with butter and syrup. Bacon—at least four rashers.” She grinned at his surprise. “A carafe of tomato juice. What?” she laughed at his expression. “We need some vegetables. And a gallon of coffee. With cream.”
Mason nodded. She was such a refreshing woman. If only they’d met under different circumstances. If only she didn’t work for Taylor mines. And if only she wasn’t a Taylor herself.
He walked to one of the suite’s phones to call their order and hopefully break the spell she was casting over him. Again.
At this rate, he’d never cope when she inevitably left.
The breakfast order was given, the call ended, yet Mason continued to hold the phone to his ear. Maybe she didn’t have to. That is, maybe he could convince her to return to Antwerp with him. It would buy him some much needed time to figure out his next steps.
Nothing had changed in that those stones she had shouldn’t reach the market. They were conflict diamonds, and it was unacceptable to think that anyone should profit from them.
Least of all Taylor Diamond Corporation. The Orphans needed to make an example of them, yet the opportunity to steal the diamonds outright had passed. But could they still do a switch?
It wasn’t ideal, but maybe he could work on the Taylor angle through Margaux herself. He couldn’t believe she could be part of something as heinous as trying to pass off blood diamonds as the same as those from their legitimate mines.
The goal was to get Taylor Corporation to stop.
The phone’s dial tone buzzed in Mason’s ear, bringing him back to the present. Margaux had gone to shower, but not because she seemed eager to go.
Quite the opposite, in fact.
This was no time for false modesty. Margaux Taylor was as captivated by him as he was beguiled by her.
The only difference was he knew exactly who she was. But he could use the power of their attraction in his favor. To build trust and loyalty. He didn’t want to believe she knew about the diamonds and what mine they were really from. But if she did, perhaps he could sway her.
And if she didn’t know about the fraud, all the better.
Disinclined to examine his motives—or intentions—too closely, Mason paced the suite, thinking furiously. He could still accomplish the Orphan’s goal in all this. Through his contact with Margaux, Taylor Corporation would be stopped from trying to substitute conflict stones for good ones. In the meantime, the stones she had would be switched out for lab-grown ones. Margaux need never know, and the end result of removing the bad diamonds from the market would be accomplished.
As a plan, it could work.
If he could convince Margaux to return to Antwerp with him rather than traveling to the Taylor offices in London.
She appeared, fresh and pink from the shower, wearing one of his shirts. And nothing else.
“Has breakfast arrived?” she asked.
“Not yet.” He pulled out a chair at the table so she could be seated. Unable to resist, he pressed his lips to the vulnerable place just behind her ear. Her quick intake of breath made him smile against her skin. “But that gives me time for a proposition.”
An utterly feminine smile pulled the corners of her mouth upward. “Oh? What’s that?”
He grinned in return, charmed by her forthright sensuality. “Not that.” At her quick frown, he laughed. “Well, okay. That too. But it’s about last night. And what I think was in that case you were carrying.”
Her smile dropped, and Mason saw her begin to twist the ties of her robe.
“But first, let me tell you about me.” He sat down opposite her. “Obviously, I’m no Taylor, nor do I work for any of the mining companies. But I do work in the diamond industry. In fact, I own and operate a lab that grows some of the finest diamonds on the market today.”
Margaux sat bolt upright, bouncing a little in her seat.
“Oh, I’ve heard of that.” She paused, blushing a little. “I mean, of course. Lab-grown diamonds have been around for some time, but I know the quality has improved by leaps. But I’ve never actually visited one of the labs. Because…” She shifted and tightened the belt of her robe. “Well, you know.”
Mason cocked his head to the side, genuinely curious. She was obviously enthusiastic about his field. “No, why? You’re a professional. Don’t you want to see the latest innovations for yourself?”
“I’d love to,” she blurted. “But, you know, my father…” She stumbled to a halt. “Obviously, he doesn’t support the manufacture of synthetics.”
Mason leaned forward. He pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “And do you always agree with what your father dictates?”
Margaux seemed to deflate. “No. Maybe.” She sighed. “My relationship with my father is complicated.”
“I see.” Mason nodded in understanding while thinking this could be an opportunity to gauge exactly what Margaux knew about the depleted Taylor mines. “You know they’re not truly synthetics, right? Scientists like myself hate that term.”
“Well, what do you call them then? They’re not natural.”
“No, they’re not. Thankfully.”
“What do you mean?” Margaux ran a hand through her hair, effectively mussing it again.
“I mean they’re so much better than natural diamonds.” Margaux opened her mouth in what Mason was sure would be an objection or denial. He raised his hand between them to stop her. “No, hear me out. Natural diamonds exact an enormous price. For one, mining is an environmental nightmare. But it comes nowhere near the human toll.” He made an effort to moderate his tone. “Surely, you can’t deny knowing that.”
Margaux was wringing her hands in her lap, her gaze bouncing everywhere around him. “Of course, I know.” She inhaled sharply. “But times have changed. Conflict diamonds are banned from the market through the Kimberley Process.”
Mason reared back in his seat. She honestly believed what she was saying. “Margaux, the business is rife with corruption. Sure, the number of blood diamonds on the traditional market has probably decreased.” He reached out toward her, an unconscious plea for understanding. “But not enough. Never enough.”
If she’d been flushed before, she was pale as death now. “I know. But I have to believe it’s better. And that it will only continue to get better.” She slumped in her seat. “Compan
ies like Taylor are committed to making a difference. Otherwise, I really don’t think I could live with myself.”
Her statement was beyond candid. It was soul-baring.
Mason released his breath. Not many people could be so painfully honest. And it told him all he needed to know about her for now. He reached for her hand, which lay fisted on the tabletop. When she immediately uncurled her fingers to link with his, the tension banding his spine rigid relaxed. Idly, he flipped her hand over and began tracing circles in her palm.
“Come with me to Antwerp to visit my lab.” The words were out before he had time to measure them.
Her fingers tightened over his. “What?”
He felt his face heat. “My lab. It’s in Antwerp. I was down here on business, but I need to get back to work.” He leaned down to kiss the inside of her wrist. “Come with me.”
She sighed as his tongue darted along the sensitive skin. “Why?”
“Because someone wants to steal your diamonds. Someone who knew where you would be last night. That says to me they knew you, understood your routines. They could be on your team.” He lessened the effect of his accusation by continuing to trail his fingers up the length of her forearm. Then he chased them with his lips, settling into the crook of her elbow for a sexy assault on her particular erogenous zone. He lightly tongued her, enjoying the way her breath caught. “Until you know more, come with me to Antwerp.” He lifted his head. She was heavy-lidded and slightly panting. The sight brought his shaft immediately roaring to attention. He rose, bringing her to her feet. “You can bring your diamonds and store them in my vault. In fact, my team can cut and polish them for you if you wish.”
Her brow wrinkled. “Why would I do that? I have my own cutters and polishers.”
“Right, but you’d be in Antwerp, not London. And if one person from the Taylor team could betray you, there could be more.”
“So your invitation is solely professional? You just want to help me with my diamonds?” She tilted her chin in a gesture Mason already recognized as purely Margaux.
He grinned, sheepish. “Well. I wouldn’t say that.”
She cupped his erection and lightly squeezed. “Why don’t you clarify?”
He groaned and flexed his hips. “I want to help. But only if that’s what you want. You know your business best.” Mason had long perfected the careful art of negotiation. Push. Pull back. Then push a little further. But he’d rather be pushing something else. “But that’s not my main reason for asking.” He thumbed one of the buttons of her shirt open.
“No?”
“No, my main motivation is seeing you naked again. And again. And hopefully a few more times.” Two more buttons popped free.
Margaux erupted in full-bodied laughter.
“Good. Now we’re getting somewhere.” She tugged his trousers open and freed his straining shaft.
“So you’ll come with me?”
“Maybe. Or maybe not.” She shrugged, still chuckling. Her thumb pressed against the head of his penis. “Why don’t you make me come here first?”
Her suggestion was outrageous and a little filthy. He tore the rest of the shirt open, scattering the remaining buttons before he latched onto one erect nipple and vigorously suckled.
Within moments, she climbed him like a tree, wrapping her legs around his waist. Mason gauged the distance to the bed and knew they’d never make it. So he tumbled them to the floor and delved two fingers inside her while pressing his thumb against her sensitive bud.
Whimpering, she pleaded, “Now, Mason. I want you inside me now.”
Unwilling to deny her anything, and unable to wait, he plunged inside her. They bucked and writhed, their movements uncoordinated as each of them raced to finish.
Margaux peaked first, and the rhythmic squeezing of her muscles triggered his own powerful orgasm. Vaguely, he heard himself shout before he collapsed—a throbbing, pulsing wreck of a man.
“Ooof.” Margaux thumped him on the shoulder. “Get off me, you libertine.”
He laughed and stayed right where he was. “Will you come to Antwerp with me?”
“Maybe. Or maybe not.” She raked her nails down his spine, causing him to involuntarily arch his back. His softening penis sprang back to life, instantly hardening. Margaux licked her lips. “Why don’t you persuade me?”
Shocked, he lifted his head and stared down at her. When she tilted her hips, he couldn’t help but thrust.
“Jesus Christ, woman. You’ll kill us both.”
“What a wonderful way to go.” Laughter bubbled out, the sound sexy and throaty. She grabbed his ass. “But you better hurry up. You may not have the stamina to last.”
Mason rocked his hips in a tempo designed to torment. He’d show her exactly how wrong she was.
Chapter 4
A full week later, Margaux breezed into the downtown Johannesburg restaurant where she was meeting Julian for lunch. It was a gorgeous day, and she wished there was an outdoor dining patio to enjoy the sun and heat. It wouldn’t be long before she returned to Antwerp and the dreary slog of a Belgian winter.
She wasn’t sure why she hadn’t told Mason that Antwerp was her home base too. They’d spent nearly every night together since the start of their affair. He was everything she could want in a lover—demanding but unfailingly considerate. As a man, he was sophisticated, a touch broody, and wildly sexy.
What began as a fling was quickly becoming far more complicated. Luckily, she was confident he was as captivated with her as she him. His extended stay in Johannesburg certainly seemed to say so.
They weren’t nearly finished with each other. But as one night became another until a full week passed, Margaux worried she might never be done with him.
The hostess returned to her stand near the entrance of the restaurant, and Margaux allowed herself to be seated at a small table near the front. She raised her face, basking in the warmth of the sunlight coming through the paned glass. Julian was late, but she honestly didn’t care. In spite of how confused and conflicted she was about Mason, Margaux hadn’t felt this relaxed in months.
A server came to the table and filled two crystal goblets with chilled water. Margaux reluctantly opened her eyes and straightened in her seat. Leather clad menus were laid down before the employee drifted away, her soft soled shoes making no sound on the light wood floors.
Margaux lifted her wrist to check the time on a thin gold watch she wore. It had been a gift from her father when she’d joined the executive team of Taylor Diamond Corporation. He’d joked that only Taylors received gold watches on their first rather than their last day on the job.
She took a sip of water, remembering the occasion. She and her father had been so close, back when her mother was still alive. In fact, Margaux’s mother had chastened both of them at the time, saying they shouldn’t be cavalier about their wealth or social status.
Margaux smiled sadly. The exchange had been typical. Corinne Taylor never forgot—and never let them forget—just how fortunate they were. She’d refused most of the jewelry her husband presented to her, arguing its unfairness. The miners and workers in the cutting factories were grossly underpaid considering the retail value of the finished diamonds.
A shadow fell over the table, and Margaux looked up to find Julian standing beside her. She rose and hugged him, breathing in his familiar scent.
“Julian. Dammit, I’ve missed you.” She laughed and flung out her hand, indicating the seat opposite. “Even though you’re still wearing that hideous cologne I hate.” She wrinkled her nose. “You smell like bug spray.”
A smile creased his handsome face, revealing even, white teeth. He’d pushed his sunglasses up into his dark, wavy hair, which was a little longer than his usual short crop. He’d acquired a light tan in the past week, highlighting his pale, blue-gray eyes.
“Darling, you know you love it. It’s unique, like me.” He smiled. “Anyway, I’ve been right here. We’re sharing an apartment, remember?” He pl
ay smacked his forehead. “Oh wait. I’ve been there, but you seem to have disappeared.” He grinned and tapped his finger against his jaw. “There’s a new man in the picture, I presume?”
“Guilty.” She laughed, blushing a little. “I’ve extended both our stays here without giving you any explanation.” Margaux was beginning to see how much she took those around her for granted. Mason teased her about it regularly. But they both knew he had a point.
She grasped Julian’s hand. He’d been part of her life for years now and meant a great deal to her.
“You know how much I adore you, right?”
Julian sipped his water before unfolding his napkin and dabbing his mouth. “Have you been drinking?”
“No.” Margaux laughed. “Why?”
“So I can prepare myself if you plan on getting maudlin.” Good humor creased his eyes. “Whoever he is, he must be some man. Care to tell me about him?”
Margaux took a breath, ready to extol the virtues of Mason Graff. But she stopped, noticing how Julian’s smile didn’t exactly hide the dark circles he was sporting. She tilted her head. “Is everything okay, Julian?”
He fanned his fingers out over his chest. “With me?”
Margaux nodded.
“I’m fine,” he insisted. “Why? Don’t I seem it?”
Now that she looked, there were other signs Julian was worn down. She touched her fingertip to his cheek. “You look exhausted.” She peered closer. The lines bracketing his mouth had deepened. “Are you not well?” Suddenly, she realized exactly how important he was to her.
He opened his mouth then shut it again. Hesitant.
“What is it?” A slight chill ran up her spine. Since her father had remarried, she’d come to rely on Julian more and more. He’d done what he could to ease the tension between father and daughter. And years ago, when her mother died, he’d stood by her side through the grief.
He’d always been there for her. But what had she given back to Julian?
He sighed, then settled back in his chair. “I haven’t been sure where you were. First, I was worried. You were practically mugged, then you stopped coming home at night.”
