awards ceremony in LA, and even though the picture of him couldn’t help but be flattering, to her mind it didn’t depict any pleasure at his being at the event, nor at having received an award. Instead, the man’s immense dissatisfaction was clear. It emanated from Gene’s steely blue eyes in forbidding icy waves...
He doesn’t look even remotely pleased, she mused. And he was probably even less pleased since she’d turned down his offer.
The headline of the article onscreen read, The man who has everything once again strikes gold.
‘Hmph,’ Rose muttered out loud. ‘That doesn’t mean that any of what he’s got makes him happy. Something must be bugging him...something he doesn’t like to talk about.’
Was it anything to do with his father not being able to afford a real diamond and pearl ring for his mother in the early days when they were starting to establish their business? Why else had he told Rose that it was only costume jewellery? Had it made him feel insecure? She remembered the flicker of pain that had accompanied his remark. But surely he wasn’t still burdened by the memory? Was he sad that once upon a time his parents had struggled...that not everything had been as easy for them as it had for their son?
Wearily dragging her fingers through her pixie cut short hair, she sighed. Why was Gene Bonnaire at the forefront of her thoughts when she still had to face her boss and tell him that she’d turned down the Frenchman’s offer?
She would have done anything to spare him the disappointment and distress the news would undoubtedly bring him, and could only hope he would see that her motivation had been to do what was right by him. After all, he’d been there for her when her father had passed away, staying by his bedside with Rose until he breathed his last breath... The last thing he needed now, when he was so ill, was to be put under pressure to sell the antiques shop to someone who didn’t have the first idea about what it meant to him...
Switching off her computer, she stood up and stretched. Annoyed that she’d wasted even more time thinking about Gene Bonnaire, she went into her living room to collect the book she’d been reading. It was a hefty tome all about the Aztecs, with a fascinating chapter on the magnificent jewellery worn by the emperors. There had recently been a momentous find in northern Mexico, and straight away it had fuelled Rose’s interest. She’d have loved to go and see the treasure that the archaeologists had uncovered, but she’d have to wait until it finally went on display in a prestigious gallery or museum.
Going to bed, she fell asleep with the book on her chest and dreamt disturbingly of an Aztec emperor who uncannily resembled Gene Bonnaire...
* * *
Just like an addict, desperate to buy his next fix, Gene sat in the café across the street from the antiques store and couldn’t turn his mind to anything else other than fulfilling his desire to own the gracious building he was staring at... The coffee he’d ordered had long gone cold as he restlessly contemplated going in and demanding that Rose Heathcote came to her senses and accepted the offer he’d made.
It had been three days since their meeting, and no phone call had been forthcoming to tell him that she’d had second thoughts. Maybe her boss had had a better offer from someone else? The very idea made him feel nauseous. He wanted that building as much as he wanted his next breath, and he deplored the notion that he might not get it.
Glancing down at his Rolex, he saw that he’d been sitting in the café for nigh on half an hour, hoping to catch Rose unawares. Catching someone off-guard often paid dividends, he’d found. If he’d seen her then he would have asked her out to dinner, so that they could talk amicably outside of work and get to know each other a little better. If he was able to get her to trust him then he didn’t doubt he could persuade her to sell the building to him.
But she hadn’t stepped outside even once, and in truth he was taking an unnecessary risk, sitting in the café in front of the window. Any minute now the paparazzi might turn up—and that really would ruin his day, because they were frequently on a mission to expose him as ruthless and uncaring...
Even in the early days, when he’d started to have some success, he’d realised there were more people in the world who were jealous of his achievements rather than pleased. More to the point, they were jealous of his wealth... Knowing that, he knew the press was more than eager to take him down a peg or two—no doubt so that their readers could feel a bit better about their own lives.
Suddenly impatient, he glanced upwards at the now darkening skies. Any moment now it would start to rain. He shouldn’t waste any more time sitting there, waiting for inspiration to dawn about what he should do. He’d never been someone who waited for opportunity to strike. Gene made his own opportunities.
His gaze settled on the old building again. The name of the shop was The Hidden Diamond, and to be honest he thought it a little trite. After all, he reasoned, if it was hidden then what use was it to anybody? Diamonds should be displayed to denote their owner’s wealth...not hidden away.
With a jaundiced sigh he got to his feet. The promised rain began to splatter the pavement. He was done with waiting. He was going into the shop to present Rose with a more persuasive offer. If she really cared so much about helping her boss then she ought to be relieved he was giving her a second bite of the cherry...
* * *
Rose was finishing up her bookwork when she heard the doorbell chime. Hurriedly toeing on her maroon leather flats, she tucked her cream silk blouse more securely into the waistband of her smart black skirt and left the office to deal with what she assumed was a late customer.
She should have closed up shop half an hour ago, but she’d been so immersed in cataloguing the dwindling monthly sales and wishing they were better that she hadn’t noticed the time.
Her lips automatically curved into a smile, but the gesture immediately melted away when she saw that her late caller wasn’t the customer she’d envisaged but Gene Bonnaire. She stared. What was he doing here? Forgoing a suit, he was dressed casually today, in jeans and a dove-grey T-shirt beneath a tailored black jacket. But he was no less formidable. It was raining outside, she saw, and the shoulders of his jacket glistened with moisture—as did his hair.
‘Do you usually stay open this late?’ he asked, clearly opting to dispense with any social niceties.
Tensing, Rose found herself caught in the crystalline spotlight of his disquieting blue gaze. ‘Not usually no. But I was busy doing some bookwork and didn’t notice the time. What can I do for you, Mr Bonnaire? If you were hoping to persuade me to change my mind about your offer then I’m sorry. I wouldn’t want you to waste your time.’
‘Don’t be sorry. Just let me have a few minutes with you to talk things over.’
‘To what end?’
‘Why don’t we sit down and I’ll tell you?’
Rose arched an eyebrow. ‘Like I said, I gave you my decision and I see no reason in discussing it any further.’ When Gene scowled she got the distinct impression that he was having considerable trouble remaining calm. His next words confirmed it.
‘You really have no idea about business, do you, Rose? I’d like to know why your boss, Philip Houghton, has such faith in you... Perhaps you’d enlighten me?’
Now Rose had trouble holding on to her own temper, and she had no hesitation in replying passionately, ‘Because I care about him—that’s why! I have no ulterior motive
