be winded from a little exercise. She was an elite athlete.
Used to be an elite athlete.
He gestured toward the wingback chair opposite him. “Take a load off. I need to talk to you, anyway.”
“So I’ve heard.” She didn’t want to sit down. She wanted to stand and scream at him, but that wasn’t going to get her anywhere. Besides, she felt drained all of a sudden. Being around Franco, even for a few minutes, was exhausting. “Speaking of which, what was Franco Andrade doing here just now?”
“About that...” He calmly folded his hands in front of him, drawing Diana’s attention first to the smooth surface of his desk and then to the oddly huge stack of newspapers on top of it.
She blinked and cut him off midsentence. “Is that my picture on the front page of the New York Daily News?”
She hadn’t thought it possible for the day to get any worse, but it just had. So much worse.
And the hits kept on coming. As she sifted through the stack of tabloids—all of which claimed she was having a torrid affair with “the drop-dead gorgeous bad boy of polo”—Artem outlined his preposterous idea for a public relations campaign. Although it sounded more like an episode of The Bachelor than any kind of legitimate business plan.
“No, thank you.” Diana flipped the copy of Page Six facedown so she wouldn’t have to look at the photo of herself and Franco on the cover. If she never saw that picture again, it would be too soon.
Artem’s brow furrowed. “No, thank you? What does that mean?”
“It means no. As in, I’ll pass.” What about her answer wasn’t he understanding? She couldn’t be more clear. “No. N.O.”
“Perhaps you don’t understand. We’re talking about the largest uncut diamond in the world. Do you have any idea what this could mean for Drake Diamonds?” There was Artem’s CEO voice again.
She wasn’t about to let it intimidate her this time. “Yes. I realize it’s very important, but we’ll simply have to come up with another plan.” Preferably one that doesn’t involve Franco Andrade in any way, shape or form.
“Let’s hear your suggestions, then.” He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “I’m all ears.”
He wanted her to come up with a plan now?
Diana cleared her throat. “I’ll have to give it some thought, obviously. But I’m sure I can come up with something.”
“Go ahead. I’ll wait.”
“Artem, come on. We can take the owners of the diamond out to dinner or something. Wine and dine them.”
“You realize every other jeweler in Manhattan is doing that exact same thing,” he said.
Admittedly, that was probably true. “There’s got to be a better way to catch their attention than letting everyone believe I’m having a scandalous affair with Franco.”
Please let there be another way.
“Not scandalous. Just high profile. Romantic. Glamorous.” Artem gave her a thoughtful look. “He told me you’d refuse, by the way. What, exactly, is the problem between you two?”
Diana swallowed. Maybe she should simply tell Artem what happened three years ago. Surely then he’d forget about parading her all over Park Avenue on Franco’s arm just for the sake of a diamond. Even the biggest diamond in the known universe.
But she couldn’t. She didn’t even want to think about that humiliating episode, much less talk about it.
Especially to her brother, of all people.
“He’s a complete and total man whore. You know that, right?” Wasn’t that reason enough to turn down the opportunity to pretend date him for twenty-one days? “Aren’t you at all concerned about my virtue?”
“The last time I checked, you were more than capable of taking care of yourself, Diana. In fact, you’re one of the strongest women I know. I seriously doubt I need to worry about your virtue.” He shrugged. “But I could have a word with Franco...do the whole brother thing and threaten him with bodily harm if he lays a finger on you. Would that make you feel better?”
“God, no.” She honestly couldn’t fathom anything more mortifying.
“It’s your call.” Artem shrugged. “He’s rehabilitating his image, anyway. Franco Andrade’s man-whore days are behind him.”
Diana laughed. Loud and hard. “He told you that? And you believed him?”
“When did you become such a cynic, sis?”
Three years ago. Right around the time I lost my virginity. “It seems dubious. That’s all I’m saying. Why would he change after all this time, unless he’s already had his way with every woman on the eastern seaboard?”
It was a distinct possibility.
“People change, Diana.” His expression softened and he cast a meaningful glance at the bassinet in the corner of his office. A pink mobile hung over the cradle, decorated with tiny teddy bears wearing ballet shoes. “I did.”
Diana smiled at the thought of her adorable baby niece.
He had a point. Less than a year ago, Artem had been the one on the cover of Page Six. He’d been photographed with a different woman every night. Now he was a candidate for father of the year.
Moreover, Diana had never seen a couple more in love than Artem and Ophelia. It was almost enough to restore her faith in marriage.
But not quite.
It would take more than her two brothers finding marital bliss to erase the memory of their father’s numerous indiscretions.
It wasn’t just the affairs. It was the way he’d made no effort whatsoever to hide them from their mother. He’d expected her to accept it. To smile and look away. And she had.
Right up until the day she died.
She’d been just forty years old when Diana found her lifeless body on the living room floor. Still young, still beautiful. The doctors had been baffled. They’d been unable to find a reason for her sudden heart attack. But to Diana, the reason was obvious.
Her mother had died of a broken heart.
Was it any wonder she thought marriage was a joke? She was beyond screwed up when it came to relationships. How damaged must she have been to intentionally throw herself at a man who was famous for treating women as if they were disposable?
Diana squeezed her eyes shut.
Why did Franco have to come strutting back into her life now, while she was her most vulnerable? Before her accident, she could have handled him. She could have handled anything.
She opened her eyes. “Please, Artem. I just really, really don’t want to do this.”
He nodded. “I see. You’d rather spend all day, every day, slaving away in Engagements than attend a few parties with Franco. Understood. Sorry I brought it up.”
He waved a hand toward the dreaded Engagements showroom down the hall. “Go ahead and get to work.”
Diana didn’t move a muscle. “Wait. Are you saying that if I play the part of Franco’s fake girlfriend by night, I won’t have to peddle engagement rings by day?”
She’d assumed her position in Engagements was still part of the plan. This changed things.
She swallowed. She still couldn’t do it. She’d never last a single evening in Franco’s company, much less twenty-one of them.
Could she?
“Of course you wouldn’t have to do both.” Artem gestured toward the newspapers spread across his desk. “This would be a job, just like any other in