Chapter One

Arianna

I was running late.

I mean, I was always running late, but this time, I was running really late.

In my defence, it wasn't my fault. I can't deny my lack of time awareness when my classic winged liner goes awry, but I had a professional do my hair and makeup tonight to make sure that didn't happen. And I was still running late.

There I was, in full pamper preparation mode, when my afternoon off was rudely interrupted by an email saying a client wanted to discuss a large bid on an upcoming artefact. Apparently, he's a pretty regular and generous customer, so this was not an email I could afford to put off until Monday. There was even a hint that he would be there tonight.

So, I ran into the office at 5pm on a Friday, bringing my elegant and classy little black dress with me so I could change in my office. Two and a half hours later, I was in the lift, zipping myself up, stepping into my Louboutins and checking the location of my Uber. Multi-tasking is my middle name.

A gentle whoosh emitted from the glass doors of the building as I strode through and my Uber swiftly came to a stop and I hopped in. If the traffic was light I could still make it in good time. Late, but not late. I reveled in the few moments of peace before I put on my game face for the party.

I was still the "New Girl", which is hard enough in any job, but my colleagues mainly consisted of older men and even older contacts. The Rare Artefacts business was a game played by a select, rich, elite few. So how an orphaned, recent graduate ended up in my position is anyone's guess.

Graduating with a First-class honours degree in Ancient History, I decided (like many), that after I left the comforting cocoon of University, I wanted to get the Wanderlust out of my system before entering the world of work. Of course, I came back after a year, stone broke with only my backpack to my name.

My Great Aunt Willow welcomed me with open arms. She'd cared for me ever since my Dad died. My Mum is thought to be dead too, but we don't talk about her. My Aunt looked after me through the last few years of High School and then University. She's been the only constant in my life but I hated having to lean on her. She was frail and just about managed to support herself, let alone a twenty-four year old with crippling student debts.

When I came back, feeling more lost than when I left (and even more lost than that time I took a wrong turn in Tokyo) she made a few phone calls. She 'knew someone who knew someone who knew someone.' Or someone owed her a favour. And I think there was cake exchanged at some point. I wasn't sure about the details, but all I knew was one Friday I was on the sofa binge-watching Breaking Bad for the fourth time and then 9am on Monday morning I was walking into a tall glass building in a borrowed pencil skirt.

I hadn't really known what to expect, I knew the company sourced and retrieved rare, valuable artefacts and then either offered them to the museums around the world or to the highest bidder. Unsurprisingly, it was usually the highest bidder that got to take home the goodies. Most of my colleagues outsourced the 'find and retrieval' side of things. I thought it was fun - I got to put my degree to good use and I loved researching the artefact. And who didn't want to jet off at a moment's notice to pick up an Oriental Vase from the 5th Century found in a forgotten antechamber?

What I hadn't expected was how good the commission was on top of my salary. When I received my first paycheck, I returned the borrowed pencil skirt, with a designer replacement and bought my Louboutins. I loved my Louboutins.

The 'Old Boys' as I called them, did not appreciate a young, fresh-faced 'girl' moving in on their turf. The 'Big Boss' was fairly elusive - mostly worked from home and if he did come into the office, it was after everyone else had gone home to work with the time differences. But I was determined to do well at this job and the perks were amazing - London office, opportunity for travel, rented flat - every graduate's dream. Actually, most people's dream. If that meant I had to go to the annual Bidders soiree, then so be it.

The Uber stopped outside The Stationers' Hall. I took a few deep breaths before thanking the driving and making my way inside. I did not want to be here. I knew when I wasn't welcome.

But, tonight was very important. We had 5 live auctions happening. My item - a rare piece of aboriginal artwork - was one of the less valuable items for sale, but it still had multiple zeros at the end of the starting number and knowing some of the bidders, a few more might be added before the gavel comes crashing down.

I'm not saying the items we acquired were 'dodgy' or 'black market', but when someone wanted something badly enough, at least we could be there to control the damages. And maybe make a quid or two in the process.

The most valuable item on tonight's menu was an extremely rare Black Diamond, which was supposedly owned by Queen Victoria. The rumours of lost lives which surrounded it made me shudder, but my morbid curiosity meant that I couldn't wait to see it in the flesh. Pictures had been passed through emails but that was nothing compared to the real thing.

A man at the door took my wrap, revealing the my classic 'Little Black Dress' and I entered into 'The Stock Room', heading straight to the bar to grab a drink.

'Whiskey. On the rocks.' I told the well dressed barman as I turned to survey the room. This small reception room was filled with men and women, dressed in their finery and I could see through the lavish doors, the larger hall next door. The majority of the attendees were older men. A good handful worked for the company and had brought their wives - most of whom were aging with 'class' and botox.

The older, fatter, balding men who were here to get their greasy paws on the merchandise and pay handsomely for it, were accompanied by bored looking gorgeous women who look like they stepped off a catwalk in Paris.

Kanye West started playing in my head, telling me now I ain't sayin' she a gold digger as I drained my glass. I heard a bark of laughter from the next room and smiled to myself at the serendipitous timing. I motioned for the bartender to pour me another.

As I waited for my drink to be poured, I felt a hum of energy behind me. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a very blond man sidle up next to me at the bar and catch the attention of the man pouring my drink.

Jeez, let him finish mine first, I thought as blondie signalled for a whiskey as well.

He smirked as he said:

'Hold the stones on mine though mate. And give the lady hers first, she must be gasping.'

I turned and looked at him. Mate? I hadn't heard a cockney accent like that in a long time. I didn't really believe anyone spoke like that any more - unless they were selling jellied eels down by the Thames. My head tilted automatically and I took him in.

He was a panty dropper for sure. Almost all the women in the room were looking in our direction. Gorgeous didn't even begin to cover it. Jaw-dropping, scrummy, sex-on-a-stick was a more apt description. I raised my glass to my lips, allowing the rich, smoky scent of the liquor to assault me before I felt the ice cold fire caress my tongue.

He turned and faced me. Our eyes connected instantly. They were a deep mahogany brown that could make you think you were drowning in chocolate if you weren't careful. Instinctively, my body moved closer and took a deep breath to steady myself. I closed my eyes and breathed him in. He smelt like Christmas trees.

I opened my eyes and smiled. A genuine smile for once, not the one I usually wear for clients.

'Your wife will be wondering where you are if you're not careful,' I told him. The slight raise of his eyebrow was the only indication I surprised him. I turned back to the bar and raised a finger to catch the bar tenders attention. 'Tonic or lemonade?' I asked the blond man. The other eyebrow joined the first.

I smiled again.

'You smell like gin, but you're drinking whiskey and you don't seem the mixing type. The only way you could smell that strongly was if someone threw a glass over you or someone who really likes gin has been kissing you most of the night. And you're not wet.' I smiled again. He smirked at the double entendre. Or perhaps at a private joke.

'Just gin,' was all he said. This time, it was my eyebrows which made way for my hairline. Personally, I am not a fan of 'Mother's Ruin', but I respect anyone who drinks it neat. I smiled again.

'Put it on my tab - I'm with the company,' I told him and the bartender as I drained my glass and started to walk away.

His cool had completely encircled my wrist.

'How did you know she was my wife and not my girlfriend?' he asked.

I laughed.

'Despite your lack of a ring, no woman in their right mind would leave you unattached,' and I pulled my arm away and headed towards the Main Hall to get lost in the crowd.

His touch has unnerved me. I could still feel him lingering on my skin as I made my rounds of 'hellos' and 'how are yous'. The coldness of the responses were nothing compared to his touch. Considering I had poor circulation, my core temperature ran lower than most people, his touch must have been icy. The hairs on my arms and the back of my neck stood to attention, as if someone's breath was trailing over my skin.

After the compulsory meet and greets, where wives looked disdainfully down their noses at me to the point where I wondered if they'd get a crick in their neck by the end of the night, I finally made it to my destination: The Court Room. It was empty as the meal was about to begin, but this gave me the perfect opportunity to admire the items alone.

In here, the lights were dimmed. Five pedestals, laid out like the five of diamonds in a pack of cards, were the main and only focus in the room. Blinding spotlights illuminated the five artefacts encased in glass.

Becoming a shadow amongst shadows, I took my time strolling around each case, taking in the beauty, the individuality, the uniqueness of each item. They made me almost breathless. So much history, so much worth, in one room. I'd stopped in front of the case positioned directly in the middle. The Black Diamond.

Watching the way the light gleamed of the facets I wondered if it could shine any brighter; it was as if the light absorbed by the diamond itself. I was enraptured.

Perhaps that was why I hadn't noticed anyone else enter the room.

Not until I caught a hint of movement behind me in the reflection of the diamond.