Teri Wilson - The Drake Diamonds

She might be on the brink of a relapse, but she could still speak for herself and make her own decisions. Besides, Artem wouldn’t always be there to take her side, would he? In fact, she couldn’t figure out why in the world he was trying to protect her now. Other than the obvious—he felt sorry for her. Pity was the absolute last thing she wanted from him.

Exactly what do you want from him?

So many things, she realized, as a lump formed in her throat. Maybe even love.

Stop.

She couldn’t allow herself to think that way. Despite his wealth and power, the man had obviously had a tumultuous emotional life. Could she really expect him to take on a wife who would certainly end up a burden?

Wife? Wife? Since when had she allowed herself to even fantasize about marriage? She needed to have her head examined.

“I don’t understand.” Dalton frowned.

“There’s nothing to understand. You heard Miss Rose. She isn’t dancing, and the diamond is going up for auction. Case closed.” Artem stood and buttoned his suit jacket, signaling the meeting was over.

How was everything happening so fast?

“Wait,” Ophelia said.

She’d lost her family. And her health. And ballet.

And she’d never have Artem, the only man she’d ever wanted.

But she would not lose the Drake Diamond. She knew Artem would never understand. How could he? But that diamond—that rock, as he so frequently called it—was her only remaining connection to her family.

She would never marry. Never have children. Once she was gone, the Baronova name would be nothing more than a memory. She could live with that. She could. But that knowledge would be so much easier to swallow if only something solid, something real, remained. A memory captured in the glittering facets of a priceless jewel. A jewel that generations of people would come to see. People would come and look at that diamond, and they would remember her family.

The Baronovas had lived. They’d lived, and they’d mattered.

“Please, Artem.” Her voice broke as she said his name. She was vaguely aware of Dalton watching her with a curious expression, but she didn’t care. “Don’t sell the diamond. Please.”

Her eyes never left Artem’s, despite the fact that being this close to him and pretending the memory of their night together didn’t haunt her with every breath she took was next to impossible. She’d had no idea how difficult it would be to see him in this context. To sit a chaste distance apart when she longed for his touch. To see the indifference in his gaze when she could all but still feel him moving inside her. It was probably the hardest thing she’d ever done in her life apart from hearing her diagnosis. Maybe even worse.

Because if she’d only taken his calls or answered the door when he’d pounded on it, he wouldn’t be looking at her like that, would he? He wouldn’t be so angry he couldn’t look her in the eye.

“I’m sorry, Miss Rose.” But he didn’t sound sorry at all.

Then he focused on the floor, as if she was the last person in the world he wanted to see. In that heartbreaking moment, Ophelia understood that pity wasn’t the worst thing she could have found in his gaze, after all.

“My mind is made up. This meeting is adjourned.”

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