‘Restitution is the only acceptable solution,’ Alicia demanded with haughty insolence. ‘I want a full credit, and I get to keep the item.’
Cassandra had had enough. This wasn’t about jewellery. ‘That’s outrageous and against company policy,’ she said quietly.
‘If you don’t comply, I’ll report this to the jewellers’ association and ensure it receives media attention.’
‘Do that. Meanwhile we’ll arrange an expert evaluation of the scratches by an independent jeweller, and his report will be run concurrently.’
She’d called Alicia’s bluff, and left the model with no recourse whatsoever. Alicia knew it, and her expression wasn’t pretty as she scooped up the pendant and chain and flung both into her bag.
With deceptive calm Cassandra turned towards Beverly. ‘I’ll see Miss Vandernoot out, shall I?’
It was a minor victory, but one that lasted only until they reached the street.
‘Don’t think you’ve won,’ Alicia vented viciously. ‘I want Diego, and I mean to have him.’
‘Really?’ Cassandra watched as the model’s gaze narrowed measurably. ‘Good luck.’
‘Keep your hands off him. I’ve spent a lot of time and energy cultivating the relationship.’
For one wild moment, Cassandra thought Alicia was going to hit her, and she braced herself to deal with it, only to hear the model utter a few vehement oaths and walk away.
Settling back to work took effort, and she was glad when the day ended and she could go home.
Grief sat uneasily on her shoulders, and Alicia’s hissy fit only served to exacerbate her emotions. It would be all too easy to rage against fate or sink into a well of tears.
What a choice, she decided as she let herself into her apartment. The cat ran up to her, and she crouched down to caress the velvet ears. A feline head butted her hand, then smooched appealingly before curling over onto its back in silent invitation for a tummy rub.
‘Unconditional devotion,’ she murmured as she obligingly rubbed the cat’s fur, and heard the appreciative purr in response.
She was all alone with no one close to call.
Cameron was in Melbourne, Siobhan had returned to Italy, and she couldn’t, wouldn’t ring Diego.
OK, so she’d feed the cat, fix herself something to eat, then she’d clean the apartment. An activity that would take a few hours, after which she’d shower and fall into bed.
WORK provided a welcome panacea, and Cassandra applied herself diligently the following morning as she adjusted the binocular microscope and focused on the delicate setting. Its intricate design provided a challenge, professionally and personally.
She wanted the best, insisted on it, aware such attention to minuscule detail brought the desired result…perfection.
If achieving it meant working through a lunch-hour, or staying late at the workshop, nothing mattered except the quality of the work.
Yet there were safety precautions in place. Loose stones were easy to fence, and therefore provided a target for robbery. Priceless gems, expensive equipment. Security was tight, the vault one of the finest. Bulletproof glass shielded those who worked inside, and a high-priced security system took care of the rest.
It all added up to a heightened sense of caution. Something she had become accustomed to over the years, and one she never took for granted.
The cast-in-stone rule ensured two people, never one alone, occupied the workshop on the premise that if by chance something untoward happened to one, the other was able to raise the alarm.
In the three years she’d worked for this firm, no one had attempted to breach the security system in daylight.
Oh, for heaven’s sake! Why were such thoughts chasing through her mind? Instinct, premonition? Or was it due to an acute vulnerability?
No matter how hard she tried, she was unable to dismiss Diego from her mind. He was an intrusive force, every waking minute of each day.
She could sense his touch without any trouble at all. Feel the way his mouth moved on her own. As to the rest of it…
Don’t go there. The memories were too vivid, too intoxicating.
Great while it lasted, she admitted. A fleeting, transitory fling orchestrated for all the wrong reasons. Manipulation at its worst.
So why was she aching for him?
The deal was done. Preston-Villers would flourish beneath Diego’s management. Cameron retained anonymity in his private life. As to her? She’d fulfilled all obligations and was off the hook.
A hollow laugh sounded low in her throat. Sure she was! She’d never been so tied up in her life!
She barely ate, she rarely slept. Some of it could be attributed to grieving for her father. The rest fell squarely on Diego’s shoulders.
The electronic buzzer sounded loud above background music from wall-speakers, and Cassandra glanced up from her work to see a familiar figure holding twin food bags on the other side of the door.
Sally from the café near by with their lunch order.
‘Want to take those sandwiches, or shall I?’ Cassandra queried, only to see Glen in the throes of heating fine metal. ‘OK, I’ll get them.’
She laid down her tools, then moved towards the door, released the security lock and reached for the latch.
At that moment all hell let loose.
She had a fleeting glimpse of Sally’s terrified expression, caught a blur of sudden movement as Sally catapulted into the workroom, followed by a man whose facial features were obscured by a woollen ski-mask.
A nightmare began to unfold as he whipped out a vicious-looking knife and brandished it.
The drill in such circumstances was clear. Do what you’re told…and don’t play the hero.
A knife wasn’t a gun. She had self-defence training. Could she risk attempting to disarm him?
‘Don’t even think about it.’ The harsh directive chilled her blood as he pulled out a hand gun and brandished it. In one swift movement he hooked an arm round her shoulders and hauled her back against him, then he pressed the tip of the knife to her throat.
Calm, she had to remain calm. Not easy with a gun in close proximity, not to mention the threat of a knife.
At the edge of her peripheral vision she glimpsed Glen making a surreptitious move with his foot to the panic button at floor level. An action that would send an electronic alert to the supervisor’s pager,
