Precious Gems - Sierra Hill Page 0,27

our contacts in New York this morning. Your father was found dead. He was shot. I’m sorry.”

Chapter 14

Everything coming from Faron’s mouth is tumbling around my head like a drier of loud static in my ears. A low hum of incoherent noise that doesn’t compute or translate and is a jumbled mess.

“Gemma? Did you hear me?”

I’m staring at Faron but don’t see him. All I see are faraway memories, flipping through my mind as if on a photo carousel, images moving far too fast for me to even piecemeal them together.

If only everything could just stop for a moment, long enough for me to rid myself of this dizziness and vague disarray. Too many emotions fight for dominance right now - a mix of sorrow, shock, jubilation and disbelief.

My father is dead, and it leaves me vulnerable and unprotected.

“Leave us,” Faron says to Roman and West, who immediately do as he commands. They’re probably relieved to get out of here and not have to offer condolences to their enemies’ daughter.

I take stock of how this news affects me. Should I be a heartbroken mess? Crying in grief? Wailing for the unfairness of it all?

None of those emotions seem to trigger a response. It’s as if a wave of calm numbness settles over my body, lifting me from the chains that had kept me prisoner within my father’s control since I was born, washing over me with a sense of freedom and gratitude.

Faron crouches on his haunches next to me, tenderness replacing the frozen daggers in his eyes, reaching to place my hand in his. His palm is so large and powerful, yet protective and consoling.

“Are you okay? Do you want to go lie down?”

I shake my head and search my brain for the words to describe what I want and what I need.

“Do they know who killed him?”

His thumb absently strokes the top of my hand. I think about last night and what his hands are capable of doing. How sensual and deliberate they are in coaxing out an orgasm from me. Making me come so beautifully, so unexpectedly.

And now they take on a completely different role, demonstrating a gentle sympathy and calming strength.

Standing, he pulls me to my feet and guides me to his lap as he sits back down in his chair, securing an arm around my waist.

“The police are checking leads, but rumor has it that it may be someone else that he conned. He may have swindled the wrong mark this time.”

I flash a hard, questioning look at him, and he shakes his head in denial.

“No, Gemma, it wasn’t us. I may have wanted to kill him for fucking with our original agreement but killing him would have done us no good. Now I’m left without a means of getting that diamond and derails my plans immensely. It’s possible my buyer might back out entirely, so I need to figure something out fast.”

I nod in understanding. “What do you need me to do?”

He gently tucks the hair behind my ear, nipping my earlobe between his teeth.

“Mmm, little girl. That’s a loaded question. It pains me not to be able to lay you across this table and take what I need from you this moment.” He kisses a strip of skin down my neck, as I delight in the contact.

I pull away. “Why didn’t you take me last night? I was willing.”

An almost animalistic growl rips from his throat and the hard ridge of his erection grows between us, a physical confirmation he did want to but held back for some reason.

“I could’ve taken you. You were dripping wet for me, little girl. So wet and eager. I could have made you kneel and had my way with you. Stolen your virginity in front of anyone who wanted to watch me fuck you so hard your voice would’ve been raw from screaming my name.”

I nod, biting down on my lip with a heavy sigh.

“But you didn’t. Why not?”

He lifts a shoulder casually. “There will be time. Last night you were under the influence, and I want you completely sober and able to agree to everything with a clear head.”

“Yes, I want that.”

Scooting from his lap, I drop to my knees in front of him, lifting my eyes to show him the truth and my intentions. Seeing his desire and approval gives me the confidence to proceed.

I run a tentative, shaky hand over his thigh, the soft give of the material so opposite to the rigid swell at