was happening. Finally.
“Thank you. Thank you so much,” she breathed, dropping her guard and fixing her gaze on Artem.
He smiled, ever so briefly, and Ophelia had to stop herself from kissing him right on his perfect, provocative mouth.
Dalton drummed his fingers on the table, drawing her attention back to the sketches. “We’d like to introduce the new designs as the Drake Diamonds Dance collection, and we plan on doing so as soon as possible.”
Ophelia nodded. It sounded too good to be true.
Dalton continued, “The ballerina rings will be the focus of the collection, as my brother and I both feel those are the strongest pieces. We’d like to use all four of your engagement designs, plus we’d like you to come up with a few ideas for companion pieces—cocktail rings and the like. For those, we’d like to use colored gemstones—emeralds or rubies—surrounded by baguettes in your tutu pattern.”
This was perfect. Ophelia had once danced the Balanchine choreography for Jewels, a ballet divided into three parts, Emeralds, Rubies and Diamonds. She’d performed one of the corps roles in Rubies.
“Can you come up with some new sketches by tomorrow?” Artem slid his gaze in her direction, lifting a brow as her toes automatically began moving beneath the table in the prancing pattern from Rubies’ dramatic finale.
Ophelia stilled her feet. She didn’t think he’d noticed, but she felt hot under his gaze all the same. “Tomorrow?”
“Too soon?” Dalton asked.
“No.” She shook her head and did her best to ignore the smirk on Artem’s face, which probably meant he was sitting there imagining her typical evening plans of hanging out with kittens. “Tomorrow is fine. I do have one question, though.”
“Yes, Miss Rose?” Artem leaned closer.
Too close. Ophelia’s breath froze in her lungs for a moment. Get yourself together. This is business. “My inspiration for the collection was the tiara design. I’d hoped that would be the centerpiece, rather than the ballerina rings.”
He shook his head. “We won’t be going forward with the tiara redesign.”
Dalton interrupted, “Not yet.”
“Not ever.” Artem pinned his brother with a glare. “The Drake Diamond isn’t available for resetting, since soon it will no longer be part of the company’s inventory.”
Ophelia blinked. She couldn’t possibly have heard that right.
“That hasn’t been decided, Artem,” Dalton said quietly, his gaze flitting to the portrait of the older man hanging over the desk.
Artem didn’t bat an eye at the painting. “You know as well as I do that it’s for the best, brother.”
“Wait. Are you selling the Drake Diamond?” Ophelia asked. It just wasn’t possible. That diamond had too much historical significance to be sold. It was a part of the company’s history.
It was part of her history. Her grandmother had been one of only three women to ever wear the priceless stone.
“It’s being considered,” Artem said.
Dalton stared silently down at his hands.
“But you can’t.” Ophelia shook her head, vaguely aware of Artem’s chiseled features settling into a stern expression of reprimand. She was overstepping and she knew it. But they couldn’t sell the Drake Diamond. She had plans for that jewel, grand plans.
She shuffled through the sketches on the table until she found the page with her tiara drawing. “Look. If we reset the diamond, people will come from all over to see it. The store will be packed. It will be great for business.”
Ophelia couldn’t imagine that Drake Diamonds was hurting for sales. She herself had sold nearly one hundred thousand dollars in diamond engagement rings just the day before. But there had to be a reason why they were considering letting it go. Correction: Artem was considering selling the diamond. By all appearances, Dalton was less than thrilled about the idea.
Of course, none of this was any of her business at all. Still. She couldn’t just stand by and let it happen. Of the hundreds of press clippings and photographs that had survived Natalia Baronova’s legendary career, Ophelia’s grandmother had framed only one of them—the picture that had appeared on the front page of the arts section of the New York Times the day after she’d debuted in Swan Lake. The night she’d worn the Drake Diamond.
She’d been only sixteen years old, far younger than any other ballerina who’d taken on the challenging dual role of Odette and Odile, the innocent White Swan and the Black Swan seductress. No one believed she could pull it off. The other ballerinas in the company had been furious, convinced that the company director had cast Natalia as nothing more than a public relations ploy. And he had. They knew it. She knew it. Everyone knew it.
Natalia had been ostracized by her peers on the most important night of her career. Even her pas de deux partner, Mikhail Dolin, barely spoke to her. Then on opening night, the company director had placed that diamond tiara, with its priceless yellow diamond, on Natalia’s head. And a glimmer of hope had taken root deep in her grandmother’s soul.
Natalia danced that night like she’d never danced before. During the curtain call, the audience rose to its feet, clapping wildly as Mikhail Dolin bent and kissed Natalia’s hand. To Ophelia’s grandmother, that kiss had been a benediction. One dance, one kiss, one diamond tiara had changed her life.
Ophelia still kept the photo on the mantel in her grandmother’s apartment, where it had sat for as long as she could remember. Since she’d been a little girl practicing her wobbly plié, Ophelia had looked at that photograph of her grandmother wearing the glittering diamond crown and white-ribboned ballet shoes, with a handsome man kissing her hand. Her grandmother had told her the story of that night time and time again. The story, the diamond, the kiss...they’d made Ophelia believe. Just as they had Natalia.
If the Drakes sold that diamond, it would be like losing what little hope she had left.
“Is that agreeable to you, Miss Rose?” Dalton frowned. “Miss Rose?”
Ophelia blinked. What had she missed while she’d been lost in the past? “Yes. Yes, of course.”
“Very well, then. It’s a date.” Dalton rose from his chair.
Wait. What? A date?
Her gaze instinctively flew to Artem. “Excuse me? A date?”
The set of his jaw visibly hardened. “Don’t look so horrified, Ophelia. It’s just a turn of phrase.”
“I’m sorry.” She shook her head. Maybe if she shook it hard enough, she could somehow undo whatever she’d unwittingly agreed to. “I think I missed something.”
“We’ll announce the new collection via a press release on Friday afternoon. You and Artem will attend the ballet together that evening and by Saturday morning, the Drake Diamond Dance collection will be all over newspapers nationwide.” Dalton smiled, clearly pleased with himself. And why not? It was a perfect PR plan.
Perfectly
