The Drake Diamonds: His Ballerina Bride. Teri Wilson

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СКАЧАТЬ seemed so pensive standing in the dark, staring at the diamond, her face awash in a kaleidoscope of cool blues and moody violets reflected off the stone’s surface. What was it about that diamond? If the prospect didn’t sound so ridiculous, Artem would have believed it had cast some sort of spell over her. She’d looked so beautiful, so sad, that he’d been unable to look away as the prisms of color moved over her porcelain skin.

      And when amethyst teardrops had slid down her lovely face, he’d been overcome by a primal urge to right whatever wrong had caused her sorrow. Then she’d seen him, and her expression had closed like a book. Thinking about it as he paced the expanse of his suite, he could almost hear the ruffle of pages. Poetic verse hiding itself away. Sonnets forever unread.

      And now?

      Now she was late. It occurred to him she might not even show. Artem Drake, stood up by his evening companion. That would be a first. It was laughable, really.

      He had never felt less like laughing.

      As he poured himself a drink, a knock sounded on the door. Finally.

      “You’re late,” he said, swinging the door open.

      “Am I fired?” With a slow sweep of her eyelashes, Ophelia lifted her gaze to meet his, and Artem’s breath caught in this throat.

      She’d gathered her blond tresses into a ballerina bun—fitting, he supposed—exposing her graceful neck and delicate shoulders, wrapped in a white fur stole tied closed between her breasts with a pearly satin bow. Her dress was blush pink, the color of ballet slippers, and flowed into a wide tulle skirt that whispered and swished as she walked toward him.

      Never in his life had he gazed upon a woman who looked so timelessly beautiful.

      Seeing her—here, now, in her glorious flesh—took the edge off his irritation. He felt instantly calmer somehow. This was both a good thing and a very bad one.

      He shot a glance at the security guard from Drake Diamonds standing quietly in the corner of the room, and thanked whatever twist of fate had provided a chaperone for this moment. His self-control had already worn quite thin. And as stunning as he found her dress, it would have looked even better as a puff of pink on the floor of his bedroom.

      “Fired? No. I’ll let it slide this time.” He cleared his throat. “You look lovely, Miss Rose.”

      “Thank you, Mr. Drake.” Her voice went breathy. As soft as the delicate tulle fabric of her dress.

      She’d been in the room for less than a minute, and Artem was as hard as granite. It was going to be an undoubtedly long night.

      “Come,” he said, beckoning her to the long dining table by the window.

      Since they were already behind schedule, he didn’t waste time on pleasantries. And chaperone or no chaperone, he needed to get her out of this hotel room before he did something idiotic.

      “Artem?” Ophelia’s eyes grew wide as she took in the assortment of jewelry carefully arranged on black velvet atop the table. A Burmese ruby choker with eight crimson, cushion-cut stones and a shimmering band of baguettes and fancy-cut diamonds. A bow-shaped broach of rose-cut and old European-cut diamonds with carved rock crystal in millegrain and collet settings. A necklace of single-cut diamonds alternating with baroque-shaped emerald cabochon drops. And so on. Every square inch of the table glittered.

      Ophelia shook her head. “I don’t understand. I’ve never seen any of these pieces before.”

      “They’re from the company vault,” Artem explained. “Hence the security detail.” He nodded toward the armed guard standing silently in the corner of the room.

      Ophelia followed his gaze, took in the security officer and looked back up at Artem. “But you’re the CEO.”

      “I am indeed.” CEO. Artem was beginning to get accustomed to the title, which in itself was cause for alarm. This was supposed to be temporary. “Insurance regulations require an armed guard when assets in excess of one million dollars leave the premises. Think of him as a bodyguard for the diamonds.”

      The security guard gave a subtle nod of his head.

      Ophelia raised a single, quizzical brow. “A million dollars?”

      “Of course, if I’d known what you’d planned on wearing tonight, I could have selected just one appropriate item instead of transforming my suite into the equivalent of Elizabeth Taylor’s jewelry box.”

      “Oh.” She flushed a little.

      Had she been any other woman, Artem would have suspected her coyness to be an act. A calculated, flirtatious maneuver. But Ophelia wasn’t just any other woman.

      He’d seen her at the office. At work, she was bright, confident and earnest. Far more talented than she realized. And always so serious. Serious, with that ever-present hint of melancholy.

      But whenever they were alone together, her composure seemed to slip. And by God, was it a turn-on.

      Artem liked knowing he affected her in such a way. He liked knowing he was the one who’d put the pretty pink glow in her cheeks. He liked seeing her blossom like a flower. A lush peony in full bloom.

      Hell, he loved it all.

      “Wait.” Ophelia blinked. “These aren’t for me.”

      “Yes, Ophelia, they are. For tonight, anyway. Just a little loan from the store.” He shrugged one shoulder, as if he did this sort of thing every night, for every woman he stepped out with. Which he most definitely did not. “Choose whichever one you like. More than one if you prefer.”

      Ophelia’s hand fluttered to her neck with the grace of a thousand butterflies. “Really?”

      “You’re representing Drake Diamonds,” he said, by way of explanation.

      “I suppose I am.” She gave a little tilt of her head, then there it was—the smile he’d been waiting for. More dazzling than the treasure trove of jewels at her disposal. “I think a necklace would be lovely.”

      She pulled at the white satin bow of her little fur jacket. At last. Artem’s fingers had been itching to do that since she’d crossed the threshold. He hadn’t. Obviously. The diamonds he could explain. Undressing her in any fashion would have stepped over that boundary line that he was still determined not to cross.

      He wondered if his father had been at all cognizant of that line. Had he thought, even once, about the ramifications of his actions? Or had he taken what he wanted without regard to what would happen to his family, his business, his legacy?

      Artem’s jaw clenched. He didn’t want to think about his father. Not now. He didn’t want to think about how he himself represented everything that was wrong with the great Geoffrey Drake. Artem Drake was nothing but a living, breathing mistake of the highest order.

      And his father was always there, wasn’t he? A larger than life presence. A ghost haunting those he’d left behind.

      Artem was tired of being haunted. It was exhausting. Tonight he wanted to live.

      He gave Ophelia a quiet smile. “A necklace it СКАЧАТЬ