To Wear His Ring Again

by Chantelle Shaw

  EPILOGUE

  Eighteen months later.

  THE AUDIENCE AT Wembley Arena were calling for the Stone Ladies to return to the stage. One more song, they chanted, but the band had already played three encores and there were groans from the crowd as the lights came on, signalling that the concert was over.

  Backstage it was manic as usual. The sound crew were already busy dismantling equipment, the band’s manager, Mike Jones, was giving a live TV interview. Someone from the PR team grabbed Isobel and asked her to sign autographs for fans who had backstage passes. She paused to chat to the fans for a couple of minutes before she squeezed through the crowd.

  Ryan caught up with her. ‘Izzy, do you and Constantin want to come and have a drink with me and Emily?’

  ‘I think we’ll go straight home tonight. But the two of you will come to dinner next week with Carly and Ben, won’t you? Constantin wants to show you his new car. Honestly, the two of you are like kids when it comes to fast cars,’ she said drily.

  Ryan grinned. ‘We’re looking forward to it.’

  He disappeared into his dressing room, and Isobel reached the place she wanted to be. ‘It’s lucky you’re taller than everyone else,’ she told her husband as he curved his arms around her waist and drew her close. ‘It makes you easy to spot in a crowd.’

  He dropped a light kiss on her mouth and when she parted her lips he deepened the caress and it became a sensual prelude to the passion that would soon follow. ‘It was another fantastic concert, but you must be exhausted after performing on four consecutive nights. It’s time I took you and our son home, tesorino.’

  Isobel felt her insides melt as she looked at the four-month-old baby boy who was tucked securely into the crook of Constantin’s arm and was fast asleep. ‘How was Theo while I was on stage? Did he settle okay after his feed?’

  ‘He slept through the entire concert.’ Constantin laughed. ‘The fans obviously love your music but I’m afraid your son isn’t impressed that his mother is a rock star.’

  She laughed. ‘Wait till he’s old enough to learn to play the drums.’

  ‘I’m already planning on having the nursery soundproofed.’

  Whittaker was waiting outside to drive them back to Grosvenor Square. Once Theo had been strapped into his baby seat Constantin climbed into the back of the car and Isobel rested her head on his shoulder.

  ‘Home sounds nice,’ she said sleepily.

  ‘It won’t be long before our new home is finished. I spoke to the architect today, and he says we will be able to move into the villa before Christmas.’

  ‘Theo will spend his first Christmas at Casa Rosa. I can’t wait.’

  Constantin smiled to himself as he thought of the surprise he had in store for Isobel. She had no idea that he had commissioned a recording studio to be built adjoining the new house. She had understood why he hadn’t wanted to live at Casa Celeste, and the four-hundred-year-old house was now a museum managed by a group of historians who were restoring the huge art collection acquired by past generations of the De Severino family.

  Casa Rosa was a modern villa, which had been built close to the chapel where their daughter was buried. Constantin had been closely involved with the construction of the home he had helped to design for his wife and son and the children they hoped to have in the future. Although he had withdrawn his resignation from DSE, he had chosen to share the roles of Chairman and CEO with his cousin Maurio, which gave him time to travel to concerts with Isobel and take care of Theo while she was performing.

  She lifted her head from his shoulder. ‘What are you smiling about?’

  ‘I was just thinking that life is pretty damned perfect.’ He stared into her clear hazel eyes and knew that her look of love was reflected in his own gaze. ‘I never knew I could be this happy, mio amore.’

  Isobel looked at her baby son who had arrived in the world without fuss and had helped to heal the ache in her heart. When Theo was old enough they would tell him about his older sister and take him to play in Arianna’s rose garden.

  She turned back to her husband and caught her breath when she saw the raw emotion revealed in his bright blue eyes. There were no secrets between them now, just a love that would last a lifetime.

  ‘I love you,’ she said simply. They were only three little words, but they meant the world.

  * * * * *

  Read on for an extract from INNOCENT IN HIS DIAMONDS by Maya Blake.

  CHAPTER ONE

  BASTIEN HEIDECKER THREW OPEN the doors of his boardroom and strode in. For several seconds none of his board members noticed his presence, absorbed as they were by the catastrophe playing out in high definition on the big screen.

  Henry Lang, his CFO, spotted him first.

  ‘Mr Heidecker! We were just catching up on the latest development...’ The short dark-haired man grabbed the remote, pressed a button and dashed to his seat.

  Bastien watched the rest of his staff scramble into their places, his already simmering anger mounting as his gaze shifted to the screen.

  Her frozen image stared back at him. Despite the storm brewing beneath the surface of his calm, Bastien couldn’t fault his team for being enthralled by the woman at the centre of the chaos engulfing his company.

  Ana Duval was stunning perfection. The half-Colombian, half-English supermodel’s beauty combined innocence and defiance with a hint of cultivated vulnerability that had been skilfully honed into the perfect commodity. That combination had ensnared every red-blooded male in the western hemisphere and ensured her a permanent place in the limelight by the time she’d turned twenty-one.

  Hell, it had nearly ensnared him...

  Even at fifteen Bastien had known the skinny, doe-eyed, eight-year-old he’d had the misfortune of spending that unforgettable winter with was nothing but trouble. What he hadn’t foreseen was that sixteen years later Ana Duval would bring bedlam right to his doorstep.

  His gaze skimmed the silky fall of her straight black hair, the slim, delicate structure of her lissom figure and the legs that had once been described by a fawning companion as forty-two inches of creamy paradise.

  Against his will his body stirred in remembrance of having that body close to his only two months ago, of soft, meaningless words whispered in his ear.

  He smashed away the memory, took his seat at the head of the table and focused on his second-in-command. ‘What’s the latest on the share price?’

  He received a wary grimace. ‘Less than half of what it was yesterday and still falling.’

  ‘What are the lawyers saying? Can they make this go away?’ he shot back.

  Henry glanced down at his watch. ‘There’s a court hearing at two o’clock this afternoon. They’re hoping since this is Miss Duval’s first offence the judge will be lenient—’

  ‘Alleged offence.’ Bastien ground out the words.

  Henry frowned. ‘Excuse me, sir?’

  ‘Until there’s clear evidence to prove otherwise, this is merely an alleged offence, non?’

  Other board members fidgeted. Henry’s gaze darted to the screen. ‘But she was caught on camera with the drugs in the VIP area of the nightclub—’

  Bastien’s lips compressed. He’d already seen the footage some enterprising fool had flooded the internet with on the way from Heathrow. So had the Geneva board members of Heidecker Bank—the largest, most elite private bank in the world and the mother company of Diamonds by Heidecker. Their reaction had reflected his own outrage. He needed to nip this problem in the bud.

  He had the trust of most of the board, but the stigma never went away.

  Like father, like son.

  He was nothing like his father. He’d made it his mission since that dismal summer to prove to himself that sharing DNA didn’t meant sharing deplorable traits. He�
�d succeeded for twelve years—until one small misstep two months ago had unearthed a doubt he hadn’t been able to erase since. He’d given in to seductive words and an alluring body and he’d almost lost his focus...

  He raised his gaze, stared at the culprit and struggled to keep his cool.

  The likelihood of Ana’s innocence was less than marginal, but he kept this to himself.

  ‘Despite what the alleged evidence says, Ana Duval is the face of the DBH range. Our diamonds are worn by the wives of heads of state and A-list celebrities all over the world. Until she’s categorically proved guilty her offences remain strictly alleged, and we’ll do everything to promote that innocence—is that understood?’

  Bastien waited until he received nods of agreement before rising.

  The sense of déjà vu was overwhelming. The deep, unshakable notion of history repeating itself would have been laughable had he given it any thinking room. But for the sake of his company and his reputation he couldn’t dwell on the past.

  Ana Duval might look like a younger version of the woman who’d ripped his family apart, but he was not as weak as his father.

  He had to stand by his employee. Distancing himself would only send a message that the allegations had teeth and sound a death knell to the Diamonds by Heidecker ad campaign.

  ‘How are we handling the media?’ he asked his senior press officer.

  ‘We’re taking the “no comment” route.’

  He nodded. ‘Maintain that for now. But draft a statement denying the allegations and send me a copy.’ He turned to Henry. ‘Send feelers out to our competitors. We have to be ready to sell the company if things keep heading south.’

  He was first and foremost a businessman. Before this scandal the signature DBH brand of diamonds had held its own and even excelled in a saturated market. But he knew first-hand how scandal could rock even the safest, most solid foundation—destroy the strongest family.

  ‘Isn’t that a bit precipitate?’ Henry asked hesitantly.

  Across the gleaming surface of the conference table Ana Duval’s dangerously captivating face stared back at him.

  ‘Sometimes you have to cut out the threat of disease before it gets the chance to take hold and spread.’

  * * *

  Ana Duval rubbed her wrists. Memories of handcuffs closing over her flesh remained vivid and frightening more than twelve hours after the fact.

  Even more terrifying was the judge’s ruling. The preliminary hearing had been alarmingly quick, and the female judge had shown zero sympathy so far.

  Ana jumped to her feet. ‘Two hundred thousand pounds? I’m sorry, Your Honour, but that’s—’

  ‘Miss Duval! We’ll handle this,’ her lawyer said hurriedly as the judge paused and glared at her.

  Ana fought not to cower. This whole thing was preposterous. Even if she sold everything remotely of worth in her life she would still fall hopelessly short. She sank back into her seat and rubbed her wrists again, certain that any minute now she’d be dragged back to that dank, soulless cell.

  Beside her, the lawyers representing the Heidecker Corporation scrambled into a huddle. She let their voices wash over her and quickly calculated how much money she had in the bank. It didn’t take long.

  God, she was going to jail. For using her inhaler. An inhaler that had mysteriously vanished, to be replaced in her purse by another one filled with heroin. The absurdity of her situation would have been comical if it hadn’t been so serious.

  Watching her mother pop pill after pill at the slightest hint of unhappiness or adversity had instilled a hatred of substance abuse in Ana at a very early age. Only a very serious asthma attack a year ago had finally convinced Ana to carry her inhaler with her at all times.

  Ironic that the very object that was supposed to save her life was what could now ruin it.

  The lawyers finally stopped chattering. She opened her mouth to demand to know what was going on. And stopped.

  The tingle invading her body was not unfamiliar. She hadn’t experienced it in a long time. In fact— Her heart began a discordant hammer as she recalled the last time she’d felt like this.

  It had been on her second day of shooting the first phase of the Diamonds by Heidecker ads. Reclining on the sun-washed deck of a super-yacht in Cannes, bored out of her mind, she’d wondered how soon she could get away to call her father and congratulate him on his latest archaeological find.

  The tingle had started much like this one—easing its way up her toes, engulfing her ankles, her calves, weakening her knees, singeing the secret place between her legs. The tingle had stopped there, establishing an almost possessive hold, before rising to engulf her whole body.

  Then, as now, she’d wanted to run, to hide and cover herself—a ridiculous notion, considering her profession more often than not involved flaunting herself. Finally, just when she’d felt light-headed from the sensation, the photographer had wrapped the shoot.

  Uncoiling from her pose, she’d turned her head.

  And had encountered the silver gaze of Bastien Heidecker.

  What had happened afterwards still had the power to stop her breath, to raise her heart-rate to dangerous levels no matter how much she tried to downplay the memory.

  She turned her head now and encountered the same piercing gaze.

  The breath shot from her lungs and that unnerving tingling engulfed her whole body, turning it from numb to fiery within seconds. Her every nerve-ending screeched in awareness of the man whose gaze pinned her to her chair, imprinting and condemning all in one go.

  She watched in silence as, without breaking eye contact, he strode to the lawyers and spoke in deep, low tones.

  The lead counsel nodded and cleared his throat and Bastien turned towards her, his towering six-foot-two frame and confident tread causing heads to turn in the courtroom. He took a seat directly behind her and with an autocratic jerk of his chin ordered her to face forward.

  Heat crawled up her neck, stung her cheeks. With it came anger at herself for so blatantly staring. The judge’s gavel struck, making her jump. Glimpsing Bastien’s mocking smile, she pursed her lips and straightened in her chair.

  For the hundredth time Ana wished she’d insisted on changing her clothes before arriving in court. But she’d wanted this hearing over and done with. She glanced down at the thigh-skimming silk dress—already on the risqué side when she’d worn it last night to please Simone, her flatmate, and now bordering on the downright indecent in daylight, especially in a courtroom—and cringed inwardly.

  She was discreetly tugging it down when the noise level rose. The lawyers were smiling and shaking hands with Bastien. Grabbing her tiny purse, she stood up.

  She glanced around her and noticed there were no guards ready to slap the handcuffs back on and cart her off to jail.

  ‘What’s going on?’ She’d aimed for brusque and businesslike but her words emerged thick and heavy, as if she were speaking in a foreign tongue. With a leaden hand she pushed back the heavy fall of hair from her face.

  Bastien stepped forward, his grey eyes arctic-cold. ‘Found it hard to concentrate, did you?’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  The breadth of his shoulders and the sheer force of his personality threatened to overwhelm her. Or it might be because she hadn’t eaten a thing since yesterday. Whatever it was, the light-headedness when she looked into his eyes made her senses swim.

  Strong hands gripped her arms and he swore under his breath. She pushed him away but he held on, his irritated growl sizzling along her raw nerves.

  ‘You will be by the time I’m finished with you,’ he rasped into her ear.

  She shivered. That deep voice had intruded on her dreams far too many times, mocked her weakness when it came to Bastien Heidecker. At eight she’d followed him around like
a puppy-dog, despite the stay-away-from-me vibes he’d projected loud and clear. At twenty-four she’d almost succumbed to a far more dangerous temptation that continued to haunt her.

  No way was she letting that happen again.

  ‘Let me go, Bastien.’ She wrenched herself from his arms—only to find herself recaptured a moment later when his hands closed over her shoulders.

  ‘I don’t know whether anything can get through that drug-fogged brain of yours, but I suggest you try and understand this. We’re going outside now. My car will be waiting, but so will the press. You will not say a single word. If you have the slightest inclination to do so, kill it. Do you understand?’

  ‘Get your hands off me! You’ve got this wrong. I’m not—’

  His fingers bit into her shoulders, stifled her protest. A shiver coursed through her as he hauled her closer, his body so close his scent surrounded her.

  ‘If you want to get out of here in one piece the only word I want out of your mouth right now is yes.’

  A rebellious fire lit her belly. For as long as she could remember she’d relied on no one but herself. She’d had no choice.

  But this—lawyers, court, the threat of imprisonment—was totally alien to her. Besides, deep down she’d known that she’d have to answer to Bastien sooner or later. He was ultimately her boss. She only wished it had been much later.

  Swallowing her words, she nodded. ‘Fine. But only until we get out of here.’

  He pulled back, his unforgiving gaze raking down her body. His nostrils flared and she caught a spark of that dark and dangerous emotion that had arced between them on that sultry night two months ago.

  With short, jerky movements he tugged off his jacket and settled it over her shoulders.

  ‘Do my clothes offend you?’ she taunted, despite being grateful for the cover.

  ‘You can flaunt your skin in your own time. Right now you’re operating on Heidecker time, and I’d rather not battle my way through frenzied paparazzi.’

  He tucked the jacket closer around her and her gaze was drawn to the play of hard muscles under his expensive blue cotton shirt. Something tightened in her midriff and that damning tingle started once more. Hurriedly, she tore her gaze away.