Stolen Love (Beauty in the Stolen 3)

“I want to know how.”

“Ask nicely,” he says, taunting the fuck out of me.

My tone is flat. “Please.”

“Fine. You can have your elevator back, but Candy stays.”

“If you dare—”

“Uh-uh, no threats. You can do with a bit of loosening up in that stuffy building of yours.”

“No more Candy.”

He utters an exaggerated sigh. “Have it your way, but it’ll cost you.”

I hook a finger under my collar, already seeing red. “Are you fucking blackmailing me?”

“Tsk, tsk, remember what Candy said about having a stroke.”

I sink into my chair and stab the button to start up my laptop. “What do you want?”

“A nice set of diamond earrings.”

When the app opens, I check the morning’s figures. The cost per carat is up ten percent. Good. “Are you for real?”

“Never been more serious,” he says with a full mouth, chewing whatever he’s eating for breakfast.

“I suppose you want four carats.”

“Nope. Something small. Nothing pretentious.”

“If I get your diamonds to you, I want to know how you managed to hijack into my system.”

He smacks his lips. “I’ll send you a full report.”

“You do that.” I’m about to hang up when curiosity gets the better of me. “Leon?”

“Huh?”

“Why would you blackmail me for diamonds you can easily afford to buy from any store?”

“This is more fun,” he says with a chuckle.

Shaking my head, I disconnect the call and dial my secretary.

“Yes, si—I mean, Mr. Hart?”

“Send Tony up when he has a moment. Tell him to bring the entry level design in our jewelry collection.”

“Yes, Mr. Hart.”

My phone pings with an incoming message. I read the text. Ian and Cas landed safely in Zim. Rubbing a hand over my eyes, I lean back in my chair.

I won’t say we’re buddy-buddy now that Ian and Leon resurfaced from the past. I doubt we’ll ever be. I’m not angry with them for leaving home when they did. I resent them for not keeping in touch after, but I understand why they didn’t. If it weren’t for Zoe, I would’ve done the same. If I were in Leon or Ian’s shoes, I wouldn’t have thought twice about quitting the hovel we called home, but I meant it when I said blood is thicker than water. There’s nothing I won’t do for any one of them.

Swiveling my chair, I look out over the yellow mine dumps in the distance. Fucking Leon. A smile plucks at my lips. Loud, boisterous laughter erupts from my chest. Leon has talent, that’s for sure. Who could’ve guessed that geeky kid who loved playing chess would turn into a criminal app developer? And Ian. He was born a thief. He shoplifted from long before he was old enough to safely cross the street alone. He’ll die a thief, which is why I’m keeping my diamonds locked very far away when he’s around. Zoe is naïve, innocent, but she has Maxime to look out for her. Even if I don’t like the Frenchman, I have to admit he’s doing a good job. Me? I wasn’t born with pickpocketing talents or geeky skills. I was born with ambition. Ian has his lodge, Leon has his apps, and Zoe has her designs. I suppose you could say I have my diamonds, but it’s never been about the diamonds. It’s always been about a woman. For me, for Ian, and if those earrings are anything to go by, for Leon too.

Of all of them, I’m the luckiest bastard, because I have Lina.

Epilogue

Ian

The maize stands tall next to the river. The blades shine the new green of young leaves in the glow of the sun. The women’s sickles fall rhythmically on the grass they’re cutting. Their labor song rises to the sky and meets the rushing of the river. A cow moos on the hill. The sounds are tranquil and unhurried. They’re a far cry from the traffic and trains in the city. Things happen at a slower pace here. The lodge has always felt like home, but now there’s also peace.

Cas’s platinum hair shines in the golden light as she crouches in a plowed row and runs the soil through her fingers. They’re planting okra this year.

The villagers are doing well. Vimbo is going to the high school in town in January. It’s only August, but Lesedi has already enrolled him to secure his place. Shona is still running the kitchen and Wataida the grounds. Banga finally met a young man from Malawi who’s living with him on the property.

On the other side of the border, Oliver runs the Livingstone Casino with an iron fist. He’s still doing the occasional laundering for us when I need to convert cash into a different currency. The redheads finally left him for a Sheik they met at one of his infamous birthday parties. Since then, he’s been sulking like a bear with a sore paw. Who would’ve thought the girls meant that much to him? I guess in his case it’s a question of not knowing what you have until you’ve lost it.