A Diamond Deal With The Greek

Jerkily, she searched for her phone and dialled as she hurried away from Draco’s building. The moment the line connected, she rushed to speak. ‘Contessa, have the cheques we paid out to the tournament organisers cleared?’

Her manager snorted. ‘Well, hello to you too. And the answer to your question is yes, the cheques cleared this morning, so did the money we paid for your travel, accommodation and equipment. We only need an extra fifteen thousand for incidentals, but I’m sure your remaining sponsors will front you that. I was going to pop round to your flat tonight with a bottle of champagne to celebrate. I know you don’t like to drink during training, but I thought a sip or two wouldn’t hurt...’ Her voice trailed off for a moment. ‘Rebel? Is something wrong?’

Rebel exhaled shakily, her vision hazing as she fought panic. ‘And there’s no way we can get any of it back?’

‘Get it back? Why would we want to do that?’ her manager demanded, her voice rising.

‘I...I just...it doesn’t matter.’

‘Obviously it does. Tell me what’s happened.’

Unwilling to drag Contessa into her problems until she confirmed the depth of the trouble she was in, she forced lightness into her voice. ‘Ignore me. Just last-minute nerves. You can come over, but can we give the champagne a miss, though?’

‘Of course...are you sure you’re okay?’ the older woman pressed.

‘I’m sure. Talk to you later.’

She hung up and immediately dialled her father’s number, already suspecting it wouldn’t go through. When the mechanical voice urged her to leave a message, Rebel cleared her throat. ‘Dad, it’s me...again.’ She paused, a new fear chilling her heart. Draco Angelis wasn’t above having her father’s phone traced. Until she got answers for herself, Rebel didn’t want to lead the man who made her spine tingle with dread and other unwanted emotions straight to her father. ‘Call me. Please. I need to talk to you.’

Feeling helpless for the first time in a very long time, she hung up. Plugging her earphones in, she ramped up the volume and hurried to the Tube, all the while willing her focus away from the card she’d tucked back into her waistband, hoping against hope she wouldn’t be forced to use it.

CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_ff96ff8e-4242-5eb9-96f0-aa271b72185b)

DRACO READ THE bullet points in the report for the second time and closed the file. He spared a thought as to why his CFO hadn’t bothered to cover his tracks, then dismissed the useless thought. The why didn’t matter.

The inescapable fact was that a crime had been committed. By Daniels and his daughter.

Draco didn’t doubt for a second that she was neck deep in this theft. Her guilt had been written all over her face, despite her trying hard to hide it. Her racing pulse had condemned her just as definitely, no matter how much her smart mouth had tried to distract him.

A muscle ticced in his jaw as he remembered the velvet softness of that mouth...the smoothness of her skin. Arabella Daniels didn’t use just her mouth to distract. She used her whole body. The need to remind his body hours later of that potent tactic irritated Draco as his car raced through the wet, lamplit streets towards the Chelsea address his investigators had supplied him with.

Another bout of irritation welled inside him.

He’d known Arabella wouldn’t honour the deadline he’d given her. Six o’clock had come and gone three hours ago, and, despite the conclusive, almost cynical evidence of theft he held in his hands, the daughter of his CFO had remained silent.

Closing the electronic file, he opened a thick manila envelope that held a completely different set of problems. While Draco was satisfied that months of hard work were poised on the edge of finally reaping rewards, he couldn’t believe the seemingly inescapable strings Olivio Nardozzi had attached to the contract in his hand.

But he hadn’t come this far to lose.

Carla Nardozzi, champion figure skater, number one in the world, was a prize every sports agent wanted. Hard-working, charismatic, almost virginally shy, she would be the jewel in his agency’s crown...if her father weren’t leveraging an unthinkable condition to signing his daughter with the Angel International Group—

‘Sir, we’re here,’ his driver interrupted his thoughts.

Draco alighted from the car and stared at the two-storey Victorian façade. While he hadn’t been surprised Arabella lived in Chelsea, he’d expected her to inhabit a glitzy condominium, not a homey dwelling on a leafy suburban street. Mounting the shallow steps to the door, he pressed her intercom.

The door released half a minute later. Draco told himself he didn’t care if she didn’t bother about her security, but by the time he arrived in front of an open doorway on the first floor irritation had given way to anger.

Loud music pumped from what seemed like a hundred speakers, although he couldn’t immediately see them as he went down a short hallway and arrived in a sizeable living room painted snow-white, and decorated with splashes of purple and pink.

He didn’t have time to be offended by the jarring decor because he was once again confronted by a scantily clad Arabella Daniels, who didn’t bother to look up as he walked into the room.

Draco dragged his gaze from her cross-legged figure enough to take in the fact that she was packing for a long trip. Escaping with the proceeds of her ill-gotten gains, perhaps?

He gritted his jaw and waited.

A moment later her head snapped up. Blue eyes met his, widened, before her mouth dropped open. ‘You’re not Contessa,’ she shouted above the pumping rock music.

‘No, I am not.’

Her eyes darted from him to the darkened hallway and back again. She set aside the sleek, specialist, lightweight skis that Draco knew cost several thousand pounds, and rose lithely to her feet. ‘You...I wasn’t expecting...what are you doing here?’

‘Do you always answer your door without checking to see who you’re letting in?’ he bit out.

She shrugged. ‘I thought you were Contessa, my manager. She’s the only one who knows where—’ She stopped and waved her hand. ‘Let’s get back to my question. What are you doing here?’

‘If you insist on playing this game, I’ll give you one guess, after you turn that racket off.’

Her pointed chin tilted and she folded her bare arms. ‘No. If you don’t like my taste in music, feel free to reuse the front door.’

Stopping his gaze from conducting a full scrutiny of her body, clad in vest top and hot pants, Draco stalked to the entertainment system set on top of an artsy-looking vanity unit and stabbed the off button.

‘Hey, you can’t do that!’

He turned and faced her, willing himself not to react to the mingled scent of peach shampoo and delicate perfume that infused his senses now his eardrums weren’t being shredded.

‘Did you forget the time, Arabella? I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt on the off-chance that my deadline escaped your notice because you don’t possess a watch?’

Her frowning gaze slid from the silent music system to his face. Her arms tightened and her stare grew bolder. ‘I have a watch. Several, in fact. I know exactly what the time is.’

The cold blaze of anger chilled his insides. He welcomed it far more than he welcomed the lick of fire that had flamed in his groin at the sight of her bare, shapely legs. ‘I can only conclude, then, that you thought my last words to you were a joke?’

She made a humming, almost accommodating sound under her breath. ‘Not quite. You don’t seem the joking type. I don’t imagine you’d appreciate a joke if it reared up and bit you hard.’

‘So that’s how you live your life? On the edge of reckless jokes?’

She shrugged. ‘You know what they say...if you’re not living on the edge, you’re taking up too much room.’

The urge to grab her, drag her close, just as he’d done in his office, assailed him. He stabbed his hands deep into his pockets to curb the impulse. Arabella Daniels took pleasure in flaunting her risqué behaviour. Draco wasn’t here to be riled. He was here to do the riling. To let her know she wouldn’t be getting away with stealing from him.

‘But if you insist on a definition,’ she continued, ‘I’d say I considered your words more of a suggestion...perhaps an invitation? As you can see, I opted to reject both.’

Draco drew in a breath, unable to accept that anyone could have so very little self-preservation. Back in his office, he’d considered her careless attitude a front, but now he wasn’t so sure. But then why was he surprised? He knew first-hand the sort of person he was dealing with. Wasn’t such a creature the same one responsible for reducing his sister’s dreams to dust? He’d trusted his precious Maria’s well-being and burgeoning talent to someone he’d thought would treasure and harness them. Instead, his sister’s life had been irrevocably destroyed.

The rock of guilt and bitterness that resided in his gut pressed hard and punishing. He’d taken his eye off the ball, relentlessly pursued his own dreams, and his sister had suffered for it. Continued to suffer for it. Draco absorbed the expanding pain he’d become used to bearing. He was grateful for it, in fact. The reminder of the past was as timely as it was bracing.

He looked past her to the suitcases, clothing and equipment strewn on the living-room floor. ‘Going somewhere?’

‘Yes, as a matter of fact,’ she replied. ‘And you’re interrupting my packing, so...’