Diamond's / Kate's POV
...
She's grateful the money's so good so she only has to work once or twice a week and contrary to popular belief, not every date ends in the sheets. There are dignitaries and diplomats who are happily married and only need her services to be arm candy.
She's learned over the past year in the business to abide religiously to a strict set of rules: Four hours maximum on a date, only one spent in the bedroom, condoms mandatory. She doesn't allow herself to fall asleep next to a man, and she never, ever lets a client go down on her. . . It's too intimate, too revealing and an act she reserves for someone she truly cares about.
It's been two years since that's occurred. . . A vision of Federal Agent Will Sorenson flashes through her mind, all blond hair and suave smile and she immediately shoves it aside. He's only a small part of the reason she's now on her current, dangerous path.
Her companion's hand on her knee brings her back to the present and she sighs in response, playing the doting Diamond, but secretly grateful this will be the last time she has to deal with the greedy stockbroker.
She doesn't doubt in the least Trent's embroiled deep in the murder of a prominent city official; she's gathered from their two other dates that he's a slimy worm in the extortion ring at the heart of the murder, but doesn't control the strings. She'll extract as much information as she can from him, hoping he'll slip up and reveal something incriminating, but if it doesn't pan out, she refuses to see him again.
Thank God Montgomery understands and agrees.
She's tired of having to stroke his massive ego and be his eager slave in the bedroom; the man pure and simple has a dark side he keeps under lock and key and sometimes, when it briefly surfaces, frightens the hell out of her.
She looks at Trent thoughtfully, trying to stay focused on what's he's saying but failing miserably as thoughts of a 6 foot 2, blue-eyed author keep streaming through her mind. . . Right now, as she listens to him go on and on about another multi-million dollar business deal, she wishes Castle would hurry up and show his ruggedly handsome face and interrupt her companion's dull monologue.
Richard Caste. . . Her heart's all over the place thinking about him, the sneaky bastard.
Many men have tried different avenues in the past to get her attention. . . Of course, there's been the odd marriage proposal, the usual promises of buying a condo for her here in New York as well as any country of her choice, a client who dedicated thousands of dollars in her name to charity, and even someone who insisted on naming a new division of his business, Diamond Enterprises, but a man actually having the stones to take something personal of hers on the ruse of having it repaired?
That was a first, and hmm, she can't decide if it was a really shitty thing to do or just downright clever and incredibly sweet.
It's one thing for an inquisitive author to plan on using her life as background fodder for a new character in his book, but quite another when he delves into her personal life, sees an opportunity and takes advantage of it. . . Even if his heart was in the right place and it was strictly a gentlemanly gesture, he definitely had a personal agenda of his own, and she doesn't quite know how to feel about it.
She doesn't know how to feel about a man with a sensitive nature plus a killer vocabulary to match his killer personality, who also happens to have the ability to unbury feelings she hasn't felt in a very long time, things she does NOT want to feel.
She either wants to wring his neck until the smug light in his eyes vanishes completely, or jump his bones and maul him savagely, watching that smug light turn wickedly darker.
Ohh, the infinite possibilities.
She's a mess of jumbled nerves because beautiful-as-a-clear-summer-sky eyes keep haunting her, and a voice with the gift for making a woman wet, keeps whispering in her head, "I never pay for sex, Diamond. If you're ever interested in learning about real pleasure, give me a call."
Real pleasure, huh? but she quickly dispels the notion that 'real pleasure' just might be Richard Castle's middle name.
She fluctuates from one feeling to the next. . . One moment feeling, 'raw anger for the nerve of the man,' and the next, 'it just might be the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me,' sentiment.
Her heart tries to convince her that Castle didn't look at her as if she was only a fine piece of ass created for the sole purpose of a man's pleasure, but those piercing blues gazed at her as if her body's a temple and deserved to be worshipped, - hourly.
It was more than physical though, - he gave her the impression she was someone worthy of getting to know, worthy of his attention, worthy of him.
No matter her decision, there's one thing absolutely certain in her mind: Richard Edgar Castle is Trouble with a capital T and trouble is something she just can't add to her fucked-up life right now.
She's facing the entrance to the restaurant but doesn't see Rick when he walks through the doorway as Trent commands her full attention. Her companion comments on how the Mets don't stand a chance of getting into the World Series this season and she laughs, because in addition to being a power stock broker he likes to consider himself a power sports analyst.
Just as she laughs, her sixth sense kicks into overtime and she knows she's being watched. . . The sensual flutter low in her belly tells her instinctively it's him.
Castle.
Her eyes jerk over to the doorway and mold with his, delicious delight swimming in their depths as he absorbs her. There's no other word for it than 'absorb' as she can practically feel his body heat calling to her from 50 feet away as his eyes roam over her form.
And God, he looks yummy. Not a hair out of place wearing a maroon silk shirt clinging to his massive biceps and stretching across his wide chest; those Dolce and Gabbana cloudy gray pants emphasizing all the right, umm, body parts.
It's a pity, - a damn shame she's going to have to knock this amazingly vibrant, walking-sex-magnet on his butt, but she can't let him get away with probing into her personal life and trying to seduce her by chivalrous, manipulative means.
And she most definitely can't let a man in her life who undoubtedly would have the power to hurt her.
Nope, nada, no, 'Mister-I'm-the-most-unselfish-lover-you'll-ever-meet-in-your-lifetime-Castle'. She cannot under any circumstances let him into her life.
It's with a trepidatious heart she lets Trent know she'll be right back and stands and walks confidently towards the author, anger building with each and every step she takes at her body's response to him.
She hates that her flesh is tingling at his heated gaze; hates that her nipples are erect and desiring his large, author hands; hates his, 'If-you'd-only-let-me-I-could-show-you-unseen-pleasures-in-the-bedroom,' baby blues.
"Diamond, how lovely to see you again," he greets her warmly, all male dashing personality with underlying sexy motives.
She thinks his voice should be illegal to the entire female population and before he can smooth-talk his way out of this (or more accurately, smooth-talk his way into her) and make her rethink her decision, she's interrupting him.
"Don't say another word," she says icily.
She holds out her hand, palm face up in a cupping shape, speaking abruptly, "My necklace please."
He's surprised by her harshness but pulls the chain out of his front pocket, his thumb rubbing over the antique ring in a mesmerizing fashion, and with pleading eyes and an incredibly apologetic voice asks, "May I just have five minutes? Can we please sit down so I can explain something to you?"
The words are flying out of her mouth before she even thinks about them, - jagged, cutting, hurtful.
"Let you explain why you're such a jack-ass? Let you explain how you get your jollies stealing jewelry from unsuspecting women? Let you explain why you felt justified taking something priceless from me, - that it was the only way you could think of to see me again?" Her eyes rake over his face, distaste painting her features. "No thank you. I've heard it all before. Our business is done, Mister Castle."
Oh shit, those puppy dog eyes fill with pain and disappointment, weakening her resolve, but it's his response that literally blows her away, has her gasping for breath, wondering how in the span of just a few minutes spent in his company, this observant author has crawled his way under her skin and left his indelible mark?
His eyes never leave hers as his voice drops low, filled with emotion. "I wanted to explain why I was drawn to the necklace in the first place. . . Why the inscription on the ring touched something deep within me. Why, - when I noticed the clasp was loose, I couldn't stop myself from picking it up and taking it to a jeweler whom I trust, who I knew would take special care of it, . . . but it's obvious my impulsiveness was a mistake. I apologize for being intrusive, for overstepping my bounds. I never meant to hurt you, Diamond. Hopefully, you'll be able to forgive me one day."
She doesn't expect it as he moves towards her and the next moment he's standing behind her, hands slightly shaky as he places the chain around her neck.
He smells divine, like a man who's just stepped from beneath a Hawaiian waterfall, - clean fresh, earthy. His body heat sears into her back and his fingers skim her collarbone, - tentative and yet needy at the same time, - calloused pads of flesh which send liquid warmth to her loins.
"Don't worry, you'll never have to see me again," floats over her ear in a whisper-pained caress while he clasps the necklace completely.
She turns around, - all liquid hazel, questioning orbs, trying to grasp what's happening between them.
His eyes are focused on the necklace lying between her breasts and "Beautiful," streams out of his mouth like he's never used the word before.
"You should never take if off. It's right where it belongs, - close to your heart."
He turns away from her quickly and she's stunned, slack-jawed, trying to comprehend how he makes her feel like he can scale this twenty foot wall of hers armed only with rapier wit and spellbinding passion.
"Cas - tle," she calls but he just keeps walking away from her, stiff set shoulders and straight back testifying how she's wounded him.
"Rick," she tries a second time, knowing she has to stop him, somehow make this right between them, but Trent's hand clamps down over her bicep possessively, stopping her.
"Diamond, I'm the one who's paying for your time. Get back to our table, - NOW."
She can't deal with this douche bag going all haughty on her, so she huffs, "Just a moment, Trent. I need a few minutes."
"No, I'm not waiting any longer," and his fingers curl menacingly into her tender flesh.
As his fingers tighten, she can feel the impending bruise spreading across her arm and a squeak of fright leaves her lips.
She doesn't see Rick turn back around as her full attention is on the man at her side. She can't keep the tremor of fear out of her voice as she commands, "Let go of me."
"For the amount of money I'm paying you, I expect your sinful body next to me every single second." Trent pulls her arm roughly, dragging her towards him.
She looks to her left, hoping to see Esposito riding to her rescue but instead finds herself looking at a deadly determined, six foot tower of rage. . .
Rick positions himself in front of her companion, his blue eyes blazing, hissing through clenched teeth, "I suggest you do as the lady requests and release her, - immediately."
Trent laughs, - a sickening sound of someone who feels superior, someone who's used to getting his way. "You don't know her then as she's certainly not a lady. . . Move out of my way."
"How unfortunate your mother never taught you some manners." Rick takes a step closer to the man, going toe-to-toe with him, menacing intent radiating off his large frame. "And now you owe the lady an apology. . . Release her now and ask her forgiveness or you won't like the consequences."
"Are you actually threatening me?"
"Take it anyway you like, Tre - nnt," Rick sneers, slurring his name like it's a filthy swear word. "But either way, you're letting go of her right now."
"Who the hell do you think you are?"
She can't keep quiet any longer as this author, who certainly deserves the Casanova award of the decade, happens to also be a true Gentleman in every sense of the word and her one weakness where men are concerned is a dapper man with a 'hero complex'.
And Richard Castle happens to fit the bill beautifully.
Disdain flows from off her as she addresses Trent, yanking her arm forcefully from his grasp.
"He happens to be the gentleman I'm leaving with. . . Our date is over. Go find Mister Ryan and tell him I said you could have a full refund."
Her eyes soften as she turns to Castle, voice hinting at a mysterious night to come. "Rick, will you get me out of here?"
She hopes he can tell how grateful she is to him for rescuing her from this jackass, how much it would mean to spend the rest of the night in his company.
Her heart stutters and then flutters out of control at his response.
"Yes, I'd be honored to."
With a relieved sigh, she links her arm through his and then the unthinkable happens. . .
Trent growls, "You don't get to decide when our date ends," and his slimy hand curls itself around her neck, squeezing softly. "I do."
She takes an anguished breath before Rick's left elbow slams backward into Trent's ribs, knocking the breath out of his lungs. Castle's facing him in a millisecond, fist curled tightly into a ball and he strikes the older man with a right hook, hitting him directly in the nose.
She smiles triumphantly as the crunching sound of bone fills the air and blood starts oozing from Trent's nostrils as he stumbles backward.
Her ever faithful bodyguard grabs Trent before he falls to the ground and wraps up both his wrists, twisting one arm painfully behind his back.
"Sorry I didn't get to the party in time," Espo says jovially, grinning haughtily when Trent winces as he yanks harder on his arm. "Are you okay, Diamond?"
"Yes, a little shaken, but I'm fine thanks to Writer-Boy here." She glances at him beneath lowered lashes as Wow, she certainly didn't expect him to go all 'Knight in shining armor' for her, willing to defend her at any cost.
Esposito looks dumbstruck as he gives Castle the once over. "Never thought I'd be saying this to you, but you have nice arm, bro. . . For a writer."
Rick chuckles as if he and Espo are long time drinking buddies. "Thanks for the compliment."
"Seriously though, thank you for taking care of my girl."
"Anytime. It was my pleasure."
His eyes openly caress her face, tracing the feminine curve of her cheek, falling along her neck, checking for any signs she's really hurt.
Fuck, his baby blues fill with unchecked desire and his bedroom voice promises many salacious nights to come. . . "I'm hoping she'll let me take care of her again in the very near future."
Trent breaks the spell swirling between them when he sarcastically sneers, "I'm happy to give you a few pointers on taming this wildcat."
"Shut up," Esposito threatens, "or I'll do it for you. . . Diamond, you want to file charges against this asshole?"
"No," she tears her eyes reluctantly away from Rick's. "Make sure he's escorted out of here and put directly in a cab. I'll have Ryan issue him a full refund on condition he never tries to contact me again."
"Did you hear that, sleazebag? If you ever try to reach Diamond again, I'll personally make sure a restraining order is filed against you and your ass is thrown in jail. Got it?"
Trent grumbles something affirmative as Esposito half hauls, half drags him towards the door. His face contorts in humiliation, laced with jealousy as he looks at her one last time and she knows, before the words fly out of his mouth, that they're going to sting.
"She's spoiled goods. Enjoy my leftovers if you can."
She tenses next to Castle, her body rigid, as yes, the truth may set you free, but sometimes, emotional pain hurts worse than actual physical pain.
Unfortunately, this was one of those times.
With eyes downcast, trying to hide the tears pricking them, she says softly, "Please take me away from here."
"I'll take you wherever you want to go," and as his hand clasps hers, something happens that hasn't happened in over two long years. . . A tinder sparks to life low in her belly, making her dream of an author writing sensual messages on her skin, indescribable burning friction, salacious satisfaction at his hands - a feeling she didn't realize how much she missed until her favorite writer bulldozed his way into her life.