Diamonds in the Rough (Diamonds are Forever Trilogy 2)

I go to bed with the box of chocolates Maxime left in the kitchen cupboard, eating them all. I don’t sleep. At five, I make the bed and tidy the apartment. I have a cup of coffee and a slice of toast. After a quick shower, I dress in a wool sweater and my favorite worn jeans. Then I pull a pair of baggy pants on over the jeans and fit my boots. Rolling my red thermal jacket into a small ball, I bundle it with a red beanie and scarf as well as my ballerina flats in my oversized handbag. I tie my hair into a ponytail, but don’t apply makeup. I stare at my reflection in the mirror.

My eyes are dull and marred by dark rings. My cheeks are sunken, making my face look hollow. I don’t bother with trying to disguise the feelings I wear on my sleeve with makeup. The worse I look, the more convincing I’ll be with the guard.

At seven, I pull on my blue puffy jacket, take my car keys, and open the door. A different man from yesterday is on duty.

“Good morning,” I say.

“Ma’am.” His gaze runs over me. “Everything all right?”

“I need to get out.”

He removes a phone from his pocket. “Where to?”

“Anywhere. I don’t care.”

He gives me a baffled look.

“Maybe the movies,” I say. “Preferably a very long one.”

Understanding passes over his face. It’s the day of Maxime’s engagement, after all. Any mistress would want to lose herself in a mindless activity to forget.

Typing something on his phone, he says, “I’m just letting Mr. Belshaw know.”

“While we’re at it,” I say, going back inside and grabbing the bag, “I’ll do my dry-cleaning.” I dump the bag in his arms and then hand him the key to the apartment. “Do you mind?”

Not waiting to see if he follows, I walk down the hallway toward the elevator. The key sounds in the lock. He overtakes me and pushes the button, my bag slung over his shoulder.

When he holds the key out to me, I shake my head. “Please, keep it for me. I have a tendency to lose things when I’m distracted.”

He gives a sympathetic nod. “Which cinema?”

“I don’t care. Pick one.”

We take my car. I drive while he checks the movie program on his phone. He gives me directions to a theatre near the harbor, someplace in Maxime’s territory where we’ll be safe.

I park in the underground parking of a shopping mall. I lock the bag in the trunk and ride the escalators up with the guard whose name I don’t bother to ask. The earliest screening starts at ten. We’re way too early. I buy two tickets at the self-service dispenser and go to a coffee shop to wait. The guard orders coffee. I ask for tea, a rose petal infusion. When the waitress puts the cup in front of me, it doesn’t take much for genuine tears to flow.

“Excuse me,” I say, wiping at my eyes and jumping to my feet. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

The guard pushes to his feet, his eyebrows pulled together. “What can I do?”

“Please.” I duck my head. “Just give me a moment.”

He doesn’t follow me to the bathroom, but moves his chair so that he has a view on the door. I push inside and rush to a stall. Locking the door behind me, I scramble out of my jacket, boots, and pants. I dump everything together with my phone in the trashcan before fitting my ballerina flats and the red thermal jacket.

Stepping out of the stall, I go to the mirror over the basins. I make quick work of untying my hair and shaking it out before fitting the beanie and pulling it low over my forehead. The final touch is adding sunglasses and bright red lipstick. For good measure, I shove my handbag under the sweater and zip up the jacket. I take a step back and study my reflection. I look like a different woman, at least nine months pregnant.

Forcing myself to take long, even breaths, I place a hand over my stomach and exit the bathroom. It takes everything I have to walk slowly like a woman late in her pregnancy instead of running. From behind the dark lenses of my glasses, I keep an eye on the guard. He’s still watching the door, ignoring me. I hold my breath until I round the corner, and then I move.

I sprint down the escalator, yanking the bag out from under my sweater in the run. My lungs are burning by the time I reach the underground parking. I don’t look left or right. I have the keys ready in my pocket. I push on the button to unlock the car. Only when I’m opening the door do I dare a glance at the doors giving access to the mall. All is quiet.