A Diamond Deal With the Greek

Tyson Blackwell laughed loudly at a joke and Draco’s jaw tightened. Rebel didn’t doubt that Draco’s motivation for wanting Tyson Blackwell banned from training was genuine. The man was dangerous. For that reason alone, she had to keep this up. As to why Draco had kept his prior relationship with Carla from her...

She vowed to ask him the moment they were alone.

Looking up, she caught his gaze again, the deeper warning in his eyes tensing her spine.

He didn’t need to remind her they were playing a role. Letting go of her glass, she tucked her hand beneath her chin. Allowing her gaze to grow languid, she puckered her lips and blew him a kiss.

His smile evaporated. His fist tightened around his poised knife until his knuckles gleamed white.

Beside her, the tennis star’s wife laughed. ‘That certainly caught his attention.’

Rebel forced a giggle. ‘You think so? A girl has to use whatever weapons she has in her arsenal these days.’

The pregnant woman leaned in closer and nodded. ‘I hear ya. Especially when there are shameless predators around who feel they have more rights to your man than you do,’ she whispered conspiratorially.

Rebel swallowed, wincing inwardly as the words struck bone. Humming in agreement, she battled her way through further conversation, making sure not to glance Draco’s way again.

At the stroke of midnight, the gala ended with a closing speech from father and daughter.

Rebel was saying goodbye to the tennis couple when Draco arrived at her side. ‘Arabella, we need to—’

‘Draco? You said you wanted to talk to me after the gala?’ Carla joined them, expertly insinuating herself between them. ‘I’ve done my bit for the night, so I’m all yours.’

‘Carla, I’ll come and find you in a while—’ He stopped as she shook her head.

‘It’s been a long day and I want to get to bed soon,’ she said softly, her eyes wide and limpid. ‘And since you insist on leaving right away, I hope you don’t mind if we talk now or I risk falling asleep mid-sentence.’ Her smile was wide and perfect.

Draco responded to her smile with one of his own, but Rebel saw the tension that gripped his shoulders when he turned to her.

She pre-empted him with a fake smile and a hand on his chest. His muscles contracted and she dropped her hand. ‘It’s fine, darling. I’ll go and take a shower, and warm your side of the bed. I know how much you love that.’

The look Carla sent her could’ve shattered granite. Rebel walked away before her smile slipped, holding her head high and avoiding eye contact with the guests drifting out of the ballroom.

She made it to the suite with only Stefano approaching to ask if she needed anything. Thanking and dismissing him, she shut the door behind her, relief mingled with a heavy dose of raw trepidation welling inside her.

Rebel didn’t think she’d lost sight of what she was doing at any point in the shockingly brief time since she’d crashed into Draco’s world. So how had she arrived here, deeply unsettled by emotions she could barely explain?

She was in lust with him, that she couldn’t deny. But why did her heart ache this much at the thought of Draco having dated Carla? Putting it down to anger over the deliberate trap Draco had let her walk into with Olivio earlier, she lurched from the door, tugging off her shoes as she entered the dressing room. Their cases had been packed and stood neatly by the centre island.

Realising she couldn’t shower without having to repack, she left her shoes by the cases and went into the living room. The urge to pour herself a drink and numb the disquieting emotions surging beneath her skin was strong. But stepping up her training meant no alcohol, even for emotional-crutch purposes.

Snorting beneath her breath, she plunked down on the sofa, only to jump up again as Draco’s scent curled around her. Heart leaping in her throat, she crossed the living room and sank into the armchair. Grabbing the remote, she turned on the TV.

She was channel-surfing, ignoring the antique fireplace clock that announced that Draco had been gone for an hour, when the door opened.

‘Arabella.’ Her name was a curt demand.

She muted the TV and stood, cursing the renewed anxiety swirling in her stomach. ‘In here.’

He entered the room. Every cell in her body felt as if it’d been zapped with liquid nitrogen when she took in his dishevelled state.

‘Wow. You know you can’t forcibly save her if she doesn’t think she needs saving, don’t you?’

A muscle in his jaw flexed. ‘What are you talking about?’

She walked to him, caught the betraying scent oozing from him and her heart dropped further.

Keep walking.