most stellar idea.
As if she had any other options.
She pushed Artem’s reminders of her inadequate education and employment record out of her head and concentrated on the mortifying matter at hand. Where was that darn cuff link, anyway?
“Gotcha,” she whispered under her breath as she caught sight of a silver flash out of the corner of her eye.
But just as she reached for it, Franco Andrade’s ridiculously masculine form crouched into view. “Allow me.”
His words sent a tingle skittering through her. Had his voice always been so deliciously low? The man could recite the alphabet and bring women to their knees. Which would have made the fact that she was already in just such a position convenient, had it not been so utterly humiliating.
“Here.” He held out his hand. The cuff link sat nestled in the center of his palm. He had large hands, rough with calluses, a stark contrast to the finely tailored fit of his custom tuxedo.
Of course that tuxedo happened to be missing a tie, and his shirt cuffs weren’t even fastened. He looked as if he’d just rolled out of someone’s bed and tossed on his discarded Armani from the night before.
Then again, he most likely had.
“Thank you,” she mumbled, steadfastly refusing to meet his gaze.
“Wait.” He balled his fist around the cuff link and stooped lower to peer at her. “Do we know each other?”
“Nope.” She shook her head so hard she could practically hear her brain rattle. “No, I’m afraid we don’t.”
“I think we might,” he countered, stubbornly refusing to hand over the cuff link.
Fine. Let him keep it. She had better things to do, like help lovebirds snap selfies while trying on rings. Anything to extricate herself from the current situation.
She flew to her feet. “Everything seems in order here. I’ll just be going...”
“Diana, wait.” Artem was using his CEO voice. Marvelous.
She obediently stayed put, lest he rethink his promise and banish her to an eternity of working in Engagements.
Franco took his time unfolding himself to a standing position, as if everyone was happy to wait for him, the Manhattan sunset included.
“Mr. Andrade, I’m Artem Drake, CEO of Drake Diamonds.” Artem gestured toward Diana. “And this is my sister, Diana Drake.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said tightly and crossed her arms.
Artem shot her a reproachful glare. With no small amount of reluctance, she pasted on a smile and offered her hand for a shake.
Franco’s gaze dropped to her outstretched fingertips. He waited a beat until her cheeks flared with heat, then dropped the cuff link into her palm without touching her.
“El gusto es mio,” he said with just a hint of an Argentine accent.
The pleasure is mine.
A rebellious shiver ran down Diana’s spine.
That shiver didn’t mean anything. Of course it didn’t. He was a beautiful man, that was all. It was only natural for her body to respond to that kind of physical perfection, even though her head knew better than to pay any attention to his broad shoulders and dark, glittering eyes.
She swallowed. Overwhelming character flaws aside, Franco Andrade had always been devastatingly handsome...emphasis on devastating.
It was hardly fair. But life wasn’t always fair, was it? No, it most definitely wasn’t. Lately, it had been downright cruel.
Diana’s throat grew thick. She had difficulty swallowing all of a sudden. Then, somewhere amid the sudden fog in her head, she became aware of Artem clearing his throat.
“Shall we get started? I believe we’re chasing the light.” He introduced Franco to the photographer, who practically swooned on the spot when he turned his gaze on her.
Diana suppressed a gag and did her best to blend into the Drake-blue walls.
Apparently, any and all attempts at disappearing proved futile. As she tried to make an escape, Artem motioned her back. “Diana, join us please.”
She forced her lips into something resembling a smile and strode toward the window where the photographer was getting Franco into position with a wholly unnecessary amount of hands-on attention. The woman with the camera had clearly forgiven him for his tardiness. It figured.
Diana turned her back on the nauseating scene and raised an eyebrow at Artem, who was tapping away on his iPhone. “You needed me?”
He looked up from his cell. “Yes. Can you get Mr. Andrade fitted with some cuff links?”
She stared blankly at him. “Um, me?”
“Yes, you.” He shrugged. “What’s with the attitude? I thought you’d be pleased. I’m talking to the same person who just stormed into my office demanding a different job than working in Engagements, right?”
She swallowed. “Yes. Yes, of course.”
She longed to return to her dreadful post, but if she did, Artem would never take her seriously. Not after everything she’d said earlier.
“Cuff links.” She nodded. “I’m on it.”
She could do this. She absolutely could. She was Diana Drake, for crying out loud. She had a reputation all over the world for being fearless.
At least, that’s what people used to say about her. Not so much anymore.
Just do it and get it over with. You’ll never see him again after today. Those days are over.
She squared her shoulders, grabbed a pair of cuff links and marched toward the corner of the room that had been roped off for the photo shoot, all the while fantasizing about the day when she’d be the one in charge of this place. Or at least not at the very bottom of the food chain.
Franco leaned languidly against the window while the photographer tousled his dark hair, ostensibly for styling purposes.
“Excuse me.” Diana held up the cuff links—18-carat white-gold knots covered in black pavé diamonds worth more than half the engagement rings in the room. “I’ve got the jewels.”
“Excellent,” the photographer chirped. “I’ll grab the camera and we’ll be good to go.”
She ran her hand through Franco’s hair one final time before sauntering away.
If Franco noticed the sudden, exaggerated swing in her hips, he didn’t let it show. He fixed his gaze pointedly at Diana. “You’ve come to dress me?”
“No.” Her face went instantly hot. Again. “I mean, yes. Sort of.”
The corner of his mouth
