They’d never get away with it. Diana hadn’t even set eyes on Franco or deigned to speak a word to him in the past three years until just a few days ago. No one would seriously believe they were a couple.
He stared down at the heap of newspapers on Artem’s desk.
People already believed it.
“You’ll be compensated for each appearance at the rate we agreed upon under the terms of your modeling contract. You can start tonight.”
“Tonight?”
Artem gave a firm nod. “The Manhattan Pet Rescue animal shelter is holding its annual Fur Ball at the Waldorf Astoria. You and Diana can dress up and cuddle with a few adorable puppies and kittens. Every photographer in town will be there.”
The Fur Ball. It certainly sounded wholesome. Nauseatingly, mind-numbingly adorable.
“I’m assuming we have a deal.” Artem stood.
Franco rose from his seat, but ignored Artem’s outstretched hand. They couldn’t shake on things. Not yet. “You’re forgetting something.”
“What’s that?”
Not what. Who. “Diana. She’ll never agree to this.”
Artem’s gaze grew sharp. Narrow. “What makes you say so?”
Franco had a sudden memory of her exquisite violet eyes, shiny with unshed tears as she slapped him hard across the face. “Trust me. She won’t.”
“Just be ready for the driver to pick you up at eight. I’ll handle Diana.” Artem offered his hand again.
This time, Franco took it.
But even as they shook on the deal, he knew it would never happen. Diana wasn’t the sort of person who could be handled. By anyone. Artem Drake had no idea what he was up against. Franco almost felt sorry for him. Almost, but not quite.
Some things could only be learned the hard way.
Like a slap in the face.
Diana called Artem repeatedly on her walk to Drake Diamonds, but his secretary refused to put her through. She kept insisting that he was in an important business meeting and had left instructions not to be disturbed, which only made Diana angrier. If such a thing was even possible.
A billboard. In Times Square.
She wanted to die.
Calm down. Just breathe. People will forget all about it in a day or two. In the grand scheme of life, it’s not that big a deal.
But there was no deluding herself. It was, quite literally, a big deal. A huge one. A whopping 25,000-square-foot Technicolor enormous deal.
Artem would have to take it down. That’s all there was to it. She hadn’t signed any kind of modeling release. Drake might be her last name, but that didn’t mean the family business owned the rights to her likeness.
Or did it? She wasn’t even sure. Drake Diamonds had been her sponsor on the equestrian circuit. Maybe the business did, in fact, own her.
God, why hadn’t she gone to college? She was in no way prepared for this.
She pushed her way through the revolving door of Drake Diamonds with a tad too much force. Urgent meeting or not, Artem was going to talk to her. She’d break down the door of his Drake-blue office if that’s what it took.
“Whoa, there.” The door spun too quickly and hurled her toward some poor, unsuspecting shopper in the lobby who caught her by the shoulders before she crashed into him. “Slow down, Wildfire.”
“Sorry. I just...” She straightened, blinked and found herself face-to-face with the poster boy himself. Franco. “Oh, it’s you.”
What was he doing here? Again? And why were his hands on her shoulders? And why was he calling her that ridiculous name?
Wildfire.
She’d loved that song when she was a little girl. So, so much.
Well, she didn’t love it anymore. In fact, Franco had just turned her off it for life.
“Good morning to you too, Diana.” He winked. He was probably the only man on planet Earth who could make such a cheesy gesture seem charming.
Ugh.
She wiggled out of his grasp. “Why are you here? Wait, don’t tell me. You’re snapping selfies for the Drake Diamonds Instagram.”
He was wearing a suit. Not a tuxedo this time, but a finely tailored suit, nonetheless. It was weird seeing him dressed this way. Shouldn’t he be wearing riding clothes? He adjusted his shirt cuffs. “It bothers you that I’m the new face of Drake Diamonds?”
“No, it doesn’t actually. I couldn’t care less what you do. It bothers me that I’m the new face of Drake Diamonds.” A few shoppers with little blue bags dangling from their wrists turned and stared.
Franco angled his head closer to hers. “You might want to keep your voice down.”
“I don’t care who hears me.” She was being ridiculous. But she couldn’t quite help it, and she certainly wasn’t going to let Franco tell her how to behave.
“Your brother will care,” he said.
“What are you talking about?” Then she put two and two together. Finally. “Wait a minute...were you just upstairs with Artem?”
He nodded. Diana must have been imagining things, because he almost looked apologetic.
“So you’re the reason his secretary wouldn’t put my calls through?” Unbelievable.
“I suppose so, yes.” Again, something about his expression was almost contrite.
She glared at him. He could be as nice as he wanted, but as far as Diana was concerned, it was too little, too late. “What was this urgent tête-à-tête about?”
Why was she asking him questions? She didn’t care what he and Artem had to say to each other...
Except something about Franco’s expression told her she should.
He leveled his gaze at her and arched a single seductive brow. Because, yes, even the man’s eyebrows were sexy. “I think you should talk to Artem.”
She swallowed. Something was going on here. Something big. And she had the distinct feeling she wasn’t going to like it. “Fine. But just so we’re clear, I’m talking to him because I want to. And because he’s my brother and sort of my boss. Not because you’re telling me I should.”
“Duly noted.” He seemed to be struggling not to smile.
She lifted her chin in defiance. “Goodbye, Franco.”
But for some reason, her feet didn’t move. She just kept standing there, gazing up at his despicably handsome face.
“See you tonight, Wildfire.” He shot her a knowing half grin before turning for the door.
She stood frozen, gaping after him.
Tonight?
She definitely needed to talk to Artem. Immediately.
She skipped the elevator and took the stairs two at a time until she reached the tenth floor, where she found him sitting at his desk as if it was any ordinary day. A day when Franco Andrade wasn’t wandering the streets of Manhattan wearing Tom Ford and planning on seeing her tonight.
“Hello, sis.” Artem looked up