Yeah, she’s smart and attractive. But she works for Blackstone’s.
He’d been blindsided twice before. Lucy had ripped out his heart when he’d needed her support the most. Seven years later, Mia had used her position as his assistant to violate his trust. He’d quickly learned a harsh lesson: To ensure his utmost privacy, no one was permitted to breach his tight security measures. His company had the strictest security checks, his private life had triple that. It just wasn’t worth everything he’d worked his whole life for.
“Unlike other jewellers, Blackstone’s issues only two glossies every year.”
Focus. One second was all he needed to clear his mind, one second to shove his memories back into the past and concentrate on the here and now.
“Two catalogues,” he repeated.
Holly nodded. “October and January.”
“No Christmas issue?”
“No.Valentine’s Day is our busiest time. We found our clients started shopping for Christmas as early as October. A Blackstone diamond is an investment. It signals superior quality and workmanship, something that women aspire to have, combined with the Australianthe Australian mystique of the outback. Our branding says it all: the simple use of the word ‘heart.’ Some of our previous campaigns were ‘heart felt,’ ‘heart’s desire’ and ‘from the heart.’ This is our most recent issue.” She flipped open her folder. Jake gave it a cursory glance and focused on another magazine on the seat.
“What’s that?”
Holly glanced down. “Our first issue. A collector’s item, actually. There are only twenty existing copies in the world. That’s Howard and Ursula. She’s wearing the Blackstone Rose.”
Unable to help himself, Jake slowly reached for the copy and stared at the cover. Looking every inch its 1976 date, the slim glossy brochure showed a candid but spectacular shot of a young couple in formal evening dress on the steps of the Sydney Opera House. Howard Blackstone in a tux, his wolfish smile triumphant. On his arm, Ursula was dressed in a strapless floor-length creation, her hair piled up into a then-fashionable beehive. The necklace around her neck was large and ostentatious, everything spectacular and showy that he’d come to expect from Howard Blackstone. There were five diamonds—four round stones with a teardrop shaped one dangling in the center. It sat high and heavy on Ursula’s neck like a collar, a symbol of ownership.
The look in Ursula’s face confirmed his impression. She was deeply unhappy. Sure, she smiled, but there was no joy behind it, the emotion in her eyes dull and resigned.
She had wealth, beauty and fame. Surely these things should have made her ecstatic, not miserable.
“When was this taken?”
“December 1976.”
Two months after he’d been stolen. No wonder she looked miserable. And Howard, being the self-absorbed bastard he was, had probably convinced her to dress up and show off the diamonds anyway.
Despite himself, his chest tightened. Dammit. He dropped the magazine with a scowl, cursing himself for allowing that small weakness to take up space in his head. Emotion and business did not mix.
Holly’s low, husky voice suddenly broke through and with the effort it took to flip a switch, he refocused. He turned back to face her, his face expressionless, as she continued.
“The Blackstone Rose came from a diamond called the Heart of the Outback. Jeb Hammond—that’s Ryan and Kimberley’s grandfather and Howard’s father-in-law—gifted the stone to his daughter Ursula to celebrate the birth of James Blackstone, his first grandchild, in 1974. Howard then had it made into the Blackstone Rose necklace the following year.” She paused. “Do you know much about diamonds?”
“Aren’t they a girl’s best friend?”
She gave him a smile that struck him as slightly patronizing. “Not this one.”
“I thought every woman liked diamonds.”
“I’m more of a sapphire girl,” she admitted coolly. She shifted and straightened her back against the leather seat. “Diamonds are commonly judged by the ‘four Cs’—cut, clarity, color and carat. The cut—”
“Determines its brilliance. Most gemmologists consider cut the most important diamond characteristic.”
“Yes. There’s no single measurement to define it…” Holly stopped. “But you’re best mates with Quinn Everard. You probably know this already.”
He nodded. “Some. Go on.”
“Am I being graded on this?” She frowned. “Because if you’re not happy with the information I’m giving you—”
“I am, Holly,” he said curtly. “Please continue.” After the briefest of pauses, she turned the page and showed him a studio shot of the Blackstone Rose sitting elegantly on black velvet. The camera flash had captured the reflection against one of the stone’s polished surfaces, creating a starry burst of light.
He’d never understood the female obsession with jewellery but these were… “Impressive. The Blackstone Rose necklace was stolen on Ursula’s thirtieth birthday, right?”
“It went missing around that time,” she corrected him.
Jake eased his long legs forward, crossing them at the ankles. “A moot point now they’ve been found. For whatever reason, Howard bequeathed the stones to Marise, and now that she’s dead, they’re Matt Hammond’s.”
Holly paused at the mention of Matt. She’d read about the long-standing Blackstone-Hammond feud like everyone else, had pored over the numerous articles about their complicated history with a mixture of sadness and amazement. Matt’s father and Kimberley’s mother were brother and sister, yet because of greed, power and jealousy, the branches of the family tree had grown acres apart.
With a frown, Holly recalled the last few months that had been publicly played out in the media. Whatever the families’ grievances, Matt didn’t deserve to have his dead wife linked with notorious womaniser Howard Blackstone, to have her die in Howard’s plane crash off the Pacific coast. His son Blake didn’t deserve to have the memory of his mother tainted by salacious gossip.
Jake waited for her to comment, to echo what the press had feverishly dubbed the “Howard-and-Marise affair”, but she remained silent. “And…?” he finally prompted.
“And what?” she replied calmly. “Look, Mr Vance, I’m not entirely sure what you want to know—”
“Dynamics.”
“Sorry?”
“I’m interested in family dynamics. The mark of a successful family company depends on that family working together in a harmonious environment.”
“The Blackstones have grown and thrived for over thirty years. You can’t get more successful than that.”
“It’s not about monetary success. It’s about respect, both for each other and their employees.”
“What makes you think they don’t have respect?”
“Howard Blackstone was a dictator. That much I do know. He was petty, vengeful and treated his employees and family like crap. He also relied on cronyism to stay on top of the heap.” He suddenly leaned forward and Holly instinctively pulled back. “What I want to know is why people continued to work with him if he was such a bastard?”
Her eyes flashed, the first real display of anger escaping her cool businesslike facade. “I don’t know. Why do people still work for you?”
The air stilled.
Holly’s