Precious Gems - Sierra Hill Page 0,13

too high from the ground and no one could hear my cries for help, anyway.

With my back toward the door from my perch at the windowsill, the snick of the lock and the door opening behind me causes me to stiffen up. I remain still, counting to ten, breathing in and out, knowing I need to keep my composure and remain in control.

Although I will myself not to move, my body still reacts wildly the minute he places a dominating hand on my shoulder. I jump with a startled scream as he captures my arms, pinning them to my sides and spinning me around to face him.

It has only been a few hours since I last felt the intensity of his dark eyes boring through me, but now up close in the small confines of this room, they burn darker than before, coal-colored and fuming. As if they had been on fire, the embers now smoldering from whatever has caused his agitation.

He drops my arms as we lock eyes in a battle of wills. My posture suggests I won’t cower, even though inside I’m scared shitless. I remain silent, waiting for him to say something.

“What the fuck are you trying to pull here, Gemma? Did you not think I’d find out?”

My mouth drops open incredulously.

“I-I don’t know what you mean.” I shake my head, suddenly feeling a lightheaded wooziness descending over me.

He glowers as a hostile laugh leaves his mouth, his eyes flashing with annoyance. “Playing the innocent card won’t let you off the hook with me, beautiful. I won’t fall for that.”

“First of all…” I stop midsentence because I want to address him by his name, yet I still don’t know it. “What the hell is your name? All I know is that Hulk calls you Boss.”

My redirection seems to confuse him, as his tight mouth slowly loosens and curves up slightly at the corners for a second, snickering a deep and throaty sound. “Who the fuck is Hulk?”

I shrug, flapping my hand toward the doorway. “You know, the big guy. The bodyguard or whoever he is that does your dirty work. Seems fitting, if you ask me.”

Boss nods appreciatively. “Yes, it does. As for me, you can call me Faron.”

Through an exaggerated cough, he adds, “Or Sir when you’re on your knees.”

Lifting a brow at the suggestive tone, I scoff. “I’ll stick with Faron.”

He pauses, arching his own eyebrow in question. “I guess I assumed your father would have mentioned my name as your contact.”

Averting my eyes away, I cross my arms to prove my frustration. “You’d think so, but that isn’t the case. I was given as little detail as possible, probably because my dad…”

He prompts me with the cock of his head. “Your dad, what?”

“He doesn’t trust me. Or rather, he doesn’t trust anyone, for that matter. But he kept things vague on purpose, probably knowing I would object if I knew he was trying to scam you.”

Faron considers this bit of information, nodding his head reluctantly.

“So you’re saying you didn’t know you were carrying a fake?”

His eyes bore into me with such intensity, flashing darkly as they roam over me, that my nipples tighten in response. Inexplicably, my panties dampen between my legs, a pulsing heat forming low in my belly.

Faron, in all his broody bluster, has an effect on me. My body seems to have awoken like the snowy white princess in the fairytale. But he’s certainly not a Prince Charming. More like a Prince of Darkness.

“Listen, Faron,” I enunciate clearly. “Like I said, I had no idea who you even were, or that I brought a fake. All I know is what Mudd told me. He gave me your address, the code word and gave me strict instructions to give the diamond only to you and no one else. That’s it.”

He taps a long finger against his lips, a silver ring glinting off the band.

“Then I can only conclude your father did a bait-and-switch, with both the delivery method” – he gestures between us at me – “and the product.”

I crinkle my nose and forehead. “I don’t know what motive Mudd has to send me with a fake. Why would he do it?”

“Excellent question. And if he’d return my call, maybe we’d find out.”

I’m about to suggest that I should try to call him when he reaches up and strokes my cheek with a rough thumb. It’s clearly not meant to be gentle.

It’s meant to suggest whatever he decides to do, I’m part