Diamonds in the Rough (Diamonds are Forever Trilogy 2)

“You better start wearing sunblock,” she says, studying me from under her lashes. “You’re getting more freckles.”

Twisting the lid onto my portable cup, I smile. “Maxime loves my freckles.”

She laughs. “Any man who says he likes freckles is a liar.”

“I’ll let Maxime know,” I say on my way to the door.

“That he’s a liar? Oh, trust me, he knows, but so do you.”

I turn on my heel. “Maybe you should tell him that to his face.”

“He knows how I feel. He promised me things when we were together.” Leaning her hands on the counter, she returns my fake smile. “What did he promise you?”

“What happens between Maxime and me doesn’t concern you.”

I leave without saying goodbye, holding my head high as I walk through the door, but her words have thorns, and they hook into my heart. I can’t get them out of my head during the drive to school or for the duration of my classes.

My brain feels mushy from a whole day of complicated pattern calculations and mulling over what Francine has said. When I get home by six, I have a headache. The stress of anticipating tonight doesn’t help. I take a painkiller and am ready at the hour Maxime has stipulated. At seven sharp, he enters the bedroom with a bouquet of pink roses.

“For the most beautiful woman in the world,” he says, offering them to me.

“They’re gorgeous.” I inhale their scent. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He runs his gaze over my dress. “One of your designs?”

“Yes.” It’s a black halter neck with a short train at the back. The skirt is decorated with a few black feathers. They add texture and a focal point to the otherwise simple cut.

“Absolutely stunning.” He cups my hips. “Even more so on this body.”

I’ve grown accustomed to his compliments. Maxime isn’t someone to offer empty appraisal. He means what he says. I can’t help but wonder what compliments he whispered into Francine’s ear. For her to be so bitter over their breakup, it had to have been serious.

“Maxime.” I put the flowers on the bed, weighing my words. “How committed were things between Francine and you?”

He studies me for a moment. “I told you. It was sex.”

“Like us? We’re sex, too. Nothing more, right?”

His expression darkens. “There’s no comparison between you and Francine.”

“What’s the difference?”

His fingers tighten on my flesh. “You’re a keeper.”

“What did you promise her?”

“Nothing.” His look is chastising. “I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”

“That’s not how she sees it.”

He sets me aside and drops his arms by his side. “What did she say to you?”

“That you promised her things.”

He chuckles. “Believe me, if I promised her things, you wouldn’t be here.”

I’d be with Alexis, and she would’ve shared Maxime’s bed. Yet here I am. “Why?”

“Why what?” He checks his watch. “We don’t have time for this, Zoe.”

“Why me? Why not Francine or someone else? Is it just because of the diamonds?” I ask, although, I find that hard to believe. He didn’t have to keep me forever. He could’ve let me go when his deal was secured. Maybe he’s worried Damian will reverse his decision if he finds out the truth, if this crazy scheme Maxime mentioned ever works out.

A nerve ticks under his eye. “I know what you’re asking, Zoe.”

“I’m asking why you chose me as your property.”

“No.” He grips my chin. “You’re asking if I feel differently about you than other women. The answer is yes. I’ve never cared more, but you’re also asking if I love you. The answer to that, as much as it saddens me, is and will always be no.”

His words drive into my heart. They twist and hurt. I lay a palm over the ache, willing it to stop, but I can’t turn my feelings off. I can only suffer them knowing there will never be a remedy. Why did I have to scratch the scab off? We were doing so well.

“Maybe…” A suppressed sob turns into a soft gasp. “Maybe you feel more than you realize.”

“I know.”

“How?” I exclaim. “The way you behave—”

“Is designed to make you happy. Love is selfless, like you. Me, I’m the opposite of everything you are. I’m selfish.”

Stupidly, I cling to hope. “You’re being very hard on yourself.”

“No, Zoe.” His eyes are solemn. “If I loved you, I would’ve set you free.”

What he says rings true. Yet I don’t want it to be. It’s too agonizing to bear. I press my free hand over my stomach to where the ache spreads, holding in the raw emotions that threaten to tumble out.

“I wish to God I was capable of love,” he says. “I want to give it to you more than I want to do anything in the world, but this is who I am.” He strokes a thumb over my chin. “I can’t change my nature.”