by Kat Faitour
She’d been inconsiderate and selfish. Why hadn’t it occurred to her Julian would be worried?
“I’m sorry,” she said, thickly.
“No, don’t be.” Julian touched her hand then withdrew. His gaze was direct and earnest. “I know how the estrangement with your father has hurt. You deserve to be happy.” He looked away for a second. “Everyone deserves a chance at that.”
Margaux added thoughtless and narcissistic to her list of flaws. In all the years she’d known Julian, she’d never thought to ask if he was involved with someone. As long as he was available—practically at her beck and call—she’d been satisfied with his performance.
He’d been her friend. Yet, she’d still treated him like an employee.
She thanked the stars he’d stuck it out with her. “Julian?”
He raised his brows. “Hm?”
“I don’t tell you enough.” She stopped. Nerves made her worry the knuckles on each hand. “Who am I kidding? I’m sure I’ve never told you.”
Perplexed, Julian tilted his head and pursed his lips. “Tell me what?”
She leaned forward. “How much you mean to me. How much you’ve always meant.” Julian started to lean forward too. She hurried on. “I couldn’t do my job without you.”
He sat back. After a second’s hesitation, he smiled crookedly. “Well, that’s what I’m here for, right? To assist.”
She nodded. But somewhere, she’d gone left of what she intended to say. “You’re more than that. You’re my friend. And I appreciate you very much.”
There. That was a start. She never realized how sticky it could be to declare her feelings. Hopefully, she’d get better at it from here.
And she positively refused to examine why it now mattered.
“Thank you.” Julian ran a finger under his collar, loosening it. “Now, stop it. You’re making me blush.”
The awkward moment over, they grinned at each other. Margaux idly flipped open her menu, and the server appeared at the table, as if on cue.
“Let’s start with a bottle of chardonnay.” Julian took the lead, which was good since Margaux had no idea what she would order. “But then we’ll need a few more minutes. We’re catching up.” He offered the server a rueful smile.
The young woman blushed prettily before hurrying away.
“You’re lethal, you know.” Margaux teased. “That charm should be registered as a deadly weapon.”
Julian smirked. “You’ve never fallen victim,” he pointed out.
Margaux winked. “Neither have you.” She paused. “I think that’s one of the best things about us, Jules. We never muddied things up with sex.”
“And is that what you’re doing now? With this new man?”
“No,” she denied instantly. She frowned. Mason didn’t belong in the same category as other men. He was different. They were different. She glanced down at the leather menu. A paperboard insert listed the day’s specials. She’d have the grilled lobster tails with a butter lettuce salad.
A change of subject was in order.
“Tell me why you’re exhausted.”
Julian watched her closely. His menu still lay shut on the table in front of him. Casually, he braced his forearms on it and leaned in. He opened his mouth, but the server reappeared with a bottle of wine and two glasses.
He made room for her to place everything on the table. “No need to taste.” He smiled up at her, and dimples winked in each of his cheeks. “You can go ahead and pour both glasses.”
The young woman’s face was positively glowing at this point. She poured the wine and managed to catch most of the drip that ran down the bottle’s side with a linen napkin.
“Would you like to order?” Her eyes lingered over Julian.
Margaux deliberately kept her face straight. Like so many others she’d witnessed, the poor girl was smitten. It was a common hazard for most of the women who entered Julian’s radius. Besides movie star good looks, he was very tall and solidly built. She’d never thought about it, but he must spend considerable time at the gym.
In an act of mercy, Margaux interjected with their orders. Once the server was gone, she folded her hands into her lap and eyed Julian.
“Tell me why you’re exhausted,” she reminded him. “I’m worried.”
He sighed. “It’s been a bit difficult keeping a handle on the workflow.”
“What?” That wasn’t what she’d expected him to say.
“There have been emails, meeting requests. I’ve handled most of it myself,” he assured her. “It hasn’t been a problem, so I didn’t bother you with it.”
“But you’ve been working yourself into the ground,” she protested. “Julian, you should have called me. You know I would have come in.”
She swirled her wine but didn’t bother smelling its bouquet. She took a long drink but didn’t really taste it.
“We’re meeting now,” he insisted. “And I wanted to give you space after the night of the mugging.” He drew back. “But I would like to get some idea of a timeline from you. Staff tells me you haven’t been in. When do you think you’ll complete your assessments on the diamonds?”
Margaux bit back an instinctive retort. Rather than asking the lab staff to report on her activities, he could have picked up the phone and asked himself.
She reached for her wine, but it was nearly empty. Julian refilled her glass then topped his own with a small splash.
“I’m not asking to be difficult. As I said, I’m happy to see you happy.” He fiddled with the stem of his wine glass. “Perhaps we could compromise a bit? You could come in to the offices or lab for half-days.” He dropped his eyes. “Just enough to catch up on some of the backlog of our work.”
Margaux shifted in her chair. Technically, it was her work. Not Julian’s. He was an exceptional assistant, but she was the one who dealt directly with the diamonds. She was certified as a gemologist. Not him.
His eyes were fixed on hers, the gray overtaking the blue in the shadows cast by the sun. She swallowed her protest.
He was right. She’d allowed her affair with Mason to completely sideline her from the work she was here to complete. Part of her wondered if she’d done it deliberately. Once the diamonds were processed, there would be no need for her to stay in Johannesburg. And while both she and Mason lived in Antwerp, she wasn’t certain about continuing as lovers.
She was a mess. For the first time, she realized how far in over her head she was getting with Mason. Unsure whether to tell him they could return to Antwerp together. Yet unwilling to allow things to end in Johannesburg.
Their lunches arrived, and Margaux waited while the server placed their steaming plates in front of them. They’d both ordered the same dish, and the plump lobster tails were lightly charred and glistening with butter. The salads were garnished with ripe grape tomatoes and marinated radishes, all topped by a creamy herb dressing.
Margaux inhaled the smoky grilled seafood on a deep sigh then focused on Julian. “You’re right. I’ve been neglecting work and the business.” With a deliberate effort, she dropped her shoulders to a more normal position. There was no need to be tense. Julian was her friend, and he only wanted to help. He’d been picking up the slack so the least she could offer was some sort of explanation.
She picked up her fork and speared a piece of her salad. “On the night of the attempted robbery, a man named Mason Graff helped me. We’ve since become involved.” She chewed the lettuce for an unnecessary amount of time before swallowing. “To be honest, I haven’t wanted to pick up that briefcase of diamonds since the attack.” Her throat was suddenly parched, and she sipped her water. “So the stones are still at the apartment in the family vault.”
“Ah,” Julian said. “Well that’s completely understandable.” He reached across the table to clasp her hand. “Let me help. I can transport the stones to the lab. I just need you to take them out of the vault for me.”
No one had access to the Taylor private safes ot
her than Taylors.
Well, Margaux was a Taylor, and it was high time she remembered it. It was time to stop dithering. She shook her head at Julian’s suggestion. “No, I’ll move them.” He dropped his gaze, clearly hurt by her rebuff. “I need to do it,” she clarified.
Several minutes passed where they ate their salads and lobster in silence. Finally, Margaux straightened, coming to a decision. She would figure out what to do about Mason later, but it was past time to leave Johannesburg. The idyll was nearly over.
“We’ll return to Antwerp in three days time. You can go ahead and book the flights for us.”
Julian’s brows shot up. “Three days?”
“Yes.” She dabbed her mouth with her napkin and dropped her eyes. “I have plans tomorrow that I cannot—” she stopped herself then resumed, “will not change. I’ll spend the next day in the lab and complete my reports. We can fly out the third day.”
Julian stroked his chin. “Okay,” he agreed. “But the lab could be doing their preliminary assessments in the meantime.”
“Good point, Jules.” Margaux finished her wine and ordered two espressos for them. “It’ll speed things up if the lab staff do their work first. So I’ll need to move the stones today or early tomorrow.”
Julian’s brow creased. “Are you sure? Because I’m happy to do it.”
“I’m sure.”
Their lunch date ended with the same sense of camaraderie as it began. On their way out of the restaurant, Julian leaned down to buss her cheek. “I don’t suppose I’ll see you around this evening.”
“Nope.” She beamed then pinched his ear. “There’s still time for you to go back and ask for that server’s number, you know. She seemed quite taken with you.”
“As they all invariably are, darling.” With a two-fingered salute, he waved goodbye before loping down the sidewalk in the opposite direction.
Margaux smiled at his back. With a few kind words, Julian had brought her to her senses.
She would enjoy one more day—and night—with Mason. Then she could decide whether they would pick back up in Antwerp. If not, he need never know she lived there. And they could end on a high note, before one of them overreached for something the other didn’t feel.
It was probably the better plan. So why didn’t it feel that way?
* * *
It was the next day, strapped into the seat of a helicopter, before Margaux remembered the diamonds. She tightened her hands into fists, cursing.
What the hell was wrong with her? How could she have forgotten—again—to take the diamonds to the lab?
She stared out of the large, curved window beside her, seeing nothing of the scenery. She knew exactly how she’d forgotten. It was no use lying to herself, and it was simple enough, no matter how mortifying, to admit. He was, after all, sitting right next to her.
Mason Graff.
She felt her face flush recalling the night before. Her body craved him. He was like a fast-acting dose of adrenaline, and she was quickly becoming addicted to the rush. But even more than his physical and sexual appeal, she loved how his brain worked. They talked, and argued sometimes, well into the night.
Obviously, the man had his doctorate, so he was intelligent. That in itself was wildly sexy to Margaux. He was pensive, occasionally moody. But always considerate of other people. With only a look, he reminded her to be the same.
And he continued to challenge her ideas about the diamond industry in ways she’d never considered.
Even when they were apart, thoughts of him consumed her. And that was exactly how a case full of diamonds slipped her mind.
Mason’s hand came down on her knee in a light caress. She turned to face him.
“Everything okay?” Mason’s voice came through her headset, his normally deep tones slightly tinny. When she looked at him, his smile was full, reaching all the way to crease the corners of his eyes. He seemed buoyant and younger. Happy. Without waiting for her to reply, he nodded toward the incredible view out the helicopter’s panoramic windows. “Isn’t it gorgeous? I’d forgotten how beautiful South Africa could be.”
She cocked her head, focusing on him rather than the breathtaking landscape. “Did you live here at one time?”
Mason jerked his gaze back to her. “I did. A long time ago.” A muscle bunched in his jaw before he shrugged in what seemed to be a deliberate attempt to relax.
“When?”
“As a child. I moved here from the States when I was in elementary school.” He paused. “Primary school,” he corrected. “I stayed until I graduated from secondary school. I rarely visit.” The smile he’d sported since picking her up early that morning faded. His eyes darkened, the olive green nearly black.
Beneath the helicopter, the grasslands of the African savanna rolled as far as Margaux could see, interrupted only by occasional trees and shrubs. Normally, she would have been pressed to the window, looking out for the magnificent wildlife known to the region.
But something in Mason’s tone alerted her. South Africa held a mixed bag of melancholy, nostalgia, and pain for him. She knew this as surely as if he’d told her so himself.
She didn’t think, just reached out for him. He curled his fingers around hers then lifted her hand to his lips. Margaux was dumbfounded to find the gesture more intoxicating and intimate than the nights they’d lain naked in each other’s arms, sated from sex.
He took her breath away.
As if he could read her thoughts, he said, “Come with me, Margaux.”
She cleared her throat. “I’m right here.” The man was lethal, and his argument for her to return to Antwerp with him grew more tempting by the day. Not that she wasn’t already going there. But if she decided to let him know and continue their affair, it would be her decision. Not because he seduced her into it.
He grinned, and she knew, damn him, that he really could read her mind. He pointed out the window. They’d covered more ground than she realized, and their sightseeing tour was clearly extending beyond the savanna. “Look. There’s a mine.”
She glanced out as the helicopter swept over the area, then banked and flew over again.
The diamond mine was massive, even from an aerial standpoint. A hole had been cratered into the earth, a deep blue pool of water at its very center. Stacked terraces extended from the lip of the mine to the quarry, creating a geometrical pattern of concentric rings. The land around it was barren and brown, devoid of any visible plant life.
“My God,” she exclaimed. “It’s incredible.”
“All of that for a quantity of stones that would fit inside a beach ball.”
“What?” Her attention was still riveted to the landscape. It was stark, lifeless, and drab. Except for the deep blue of the lake in its deep crater. She pulled out her phone and swiped open the camera.
“The quantity of stones,” Mason insisted. “If piled together, they would be about the size of a beach ball.” He stared as she tried to focus her camera on the view.
“Damn,” she exclaimed. “I can’t get a focused shot. I should have brought my real camera.”
She tried again and again, tapping the screen to take numerous shots. Switching to video allowed her to continuously record their flight over the scene, and she hoped she could extract enough frames to suit her purpose.
She was going to paint it.
She looked over at Mason, who was staring at her, unblinking. “Can you get the pilot to pass over a few more times? I want to make sure I get what I want.”
He shook his head, and his mouth fell open before he closed it again. No sound came through her headphones.
“Did you hear me?” she asked.
“I heard you fine, Margaux.” This time she couldn’t mistake the bleakness in his tone. “This is a Taylor mine. Did you know? Have you ever bothered to come out here?”
She reared back, her phone with its camera forgotten. She thought she saw the pilot shift in his seat, but he remained facing forward and quiet. The no
ise of the chopper’s blades forgotten, the cockpit seemed suddenly, deadly silent.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, this is your business. This is what Taylor Diamond Corporation does.” He waved toward the massive hole with its acres of desolate, fallow land surrounding it. “You take and take and take from this continent and its people. And you think it’s pretty?”
“No.” She chopped her hand into the air, and her phone slipped out of her grip, clattering to the floor of the helicopter. “I didn’t say that. You’ve completely misinterpreted me.” She was mortified to hear her voice thicken with tears. Unable to look at Mason, she took off her headset then unclipped her straps and kneeled onto the floor to retrieve her phone. The sound from the rotors was almost deafening.
“Margaux, get back in your seat.” Mason sounded equally upset, but angry. He was definitely shouting loud enough to be heard. “Now.”
She jumped up in front of him, one hand clutching her phone and the other braced on her hip. “You don’t tell me what to do, Mason Graff!” She figured she made a perfect picture of righteous outrage until the helicopter dipped and she nearly fell straight into Mason’s lap.
She was hanging onto the headrest of his seat while struggling to grab one of the safety straps hanging down from the side of the chopper. Even without the headset, she swore she heard him cursing.
Several awkward moments ensued when she tried to regain her footing while avoiding Mason’s attempts to help and steady her. The whole episode was quickly becoming farcical. Finally, he grabbed her jacket collar and yanked, tumbling her onto him.
Margaux valiantly tried to get up, but he held her to him while his entire torso shook with laughter.
“Seriously? Let me go.” The confounded man would be her undoing all over again if he continued to laugh. She adored his sense of humor. Even after his insults, she found it difficult to resist him.
She pushed harder in an attempt to free herself. Mason Graff was a wicked, arrogant, and irritable man, and it was past time she gave him and his mood swings the boot.
