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“I’m not wrong. We don’t deal in blood diamonds. We will never deal in blood diamonds, and anyone who says differently is a damn liar.”
“I already made those threats to the managing editor,” Nic said after everyone absorbed Marc’s words. “And while I agree they’ll sound better coming from our lead counsel, we need to do more than threaten them. We need to prove to them that they’re wrong.”
“And how exactly are we going to do that?” Lisa asked. “If we don’t know who they’re getting information from, or even what that information is, how can we contradict them?”
“By hiring an expert in conflict diamonds.” Hollister had obviously gotten with the program. “By taking him up to Canada where we get our stock, letting him examine the mines we pull from. And then bringing him back here and giving him access to anything and everything he wants. We don’t have any secrets—at least not of the blood-diamond variety. So let’s prove that.”
“Yes, but getting an expert of that caliber on board could take weeks,” Lisa protes
ted. “There are barely a dozen people in the world with the credentials to sign off unquestioningly on our diamonds. Even if we pay twice the going rate, there’s no guarantee that one of them will be available.”
“But one is available.” Nic glanced at his brother when he said it, knowing very well that Marc would not appreciate his suggestion. But desperate times called for desperate measures, and he would do anything—anything—to stop this from happening. Including dig up his brother’s very painful past. “She lives right here in San Diego and teaches at GIA. She could totally do it.”
Marc knew whom Nic was talking about, and he didn’t take the suggestion well. Big shock there. Nic waited for him to say something, but when Marc did nothing but stand there silently, Nic couldn’t help goading him. “Dude, you look like you swallowed a bug.”
“I can’t call Isa, Nic. She’d laugh in my face. Or she’d deliberately sabotage us just to get back at me. There’s no way I can ask her to do this.”
Nic rolled his eyes. “Weren’t you the one saying we can’t afford to screw around with this? Isa’s here, she has the experience, and if you pay her well and get a sub to carry her classes, she’s probably available. It doesn’t get much better than that.”
“You should give her a call,” Hollister urged.
“Yeah, absolutely,” agreed Lisa. “I’d forgotten about Isabella Moreno being here in San Diego. I’ve met her a few times and she’s really lovely—we should totally get her. I can try to talk to her, if you’d like.”
“No,” Marc told Lisa harshly, after a few uncomfortable seconds passed. “I’ll take care of getting her on board.”
He didn’t sound happy about it, but he looked resigned. And wary. Which was good enough for Nic. His brother was an arrogant bastard, but Bijoux meant everything to him. He’d get Isa on board, even if it meant he had to crawl to do it.
In the meantime, Nic would meet with Ollie and scour the article that should be in his inbox by now. If the worst case happened and this thing actually went to print, he wanted to be ready with the best damage control the industry had ever seen.
Seven
The next few days were excruciatingly slow as Nic waited for Isa’s findings. He was sure Marc felt the same torture, but at least his brother was out in the world, actively working to save their company. He’d taken Isabella to Canada and now he was here, in the building with her, checking out their diamonds. Proving, unequivocally, once and for all, that whoever had given the Times its information had been wrong. All Nic was doing was sitting here, feeling as if he was fighting with both hands tied behind his back.
It wasn’t a good feeling.
But then, how could it be when everything he’d worked for, everything Marc had worked for, could go up in smoke any minute? Simply because someone with a grudge had lied about them. Simply because some reporter had said so. It was infuriating.
Nic and Ollie had put together a damn good plan for damage control over the past seventy-two hours, but Nic really hoped they’d never have to use it. Hollister had managed to get the article pushed back a few days, though not canceled, and now the only thing left to do was wait.
Wait for Isa to certify their diamonds as conflict-free.
Wait for the Times to decide what it would do about the article.
Wait for security to comb through the company files and find out the identity of the source.
Too bad he hated waiting with the passion of a thousand burning suns.
Yet, it seemed as if it was all he’d been doing lately. Even before this whole thing started. Ever since Nic had met Desi, really. He’d texted her a few times right after they’d been together, but she’d never responded. He’d dropped down to once a week after that because he hadn’t wanted to harass her. He’d just wanted…her. If he hadn’t, he would have given up after the second day.
But he hadn’t given up. Instead, he’d waited seven weeks for her to respond to him and she never had. Not one returned text, not one phone call, nothing but total and complete radio silence. Which was why he’d finally given up on her, why he’d gone so far as to erase her number from his phone. He liked her a lot, but if she didn’t feel the same way about him, he wasn’t going to spend the next year moping around about the one who’d gotten away. Not when they’d spent less than twelve hours together total.
He’d thought if he shoved Desi out of his mind—and took her off his phone—he wouldn’t have to think about her again.
Too bad it hadn’t worked.
Determined to get her out of his mind once and for all, he grabbed his laptop. Started fiddling with the winter marketing plans. He’d had a great idea about them when he’d been wandering his empty house at three that morning. He should probably write it down before it disappeared.
But he’d only just opened the advertising budget spreadsheet when the intercom on his desk buzzed with his brother’s voice. The sound cut through Nic’s not-so-pleasant thoughts, giving him the distraction he’d been looking for. “Come to my office, will you? I want to talk to you about something.”
