Chapter 48
DRASKO
“I searched the house,” Grace said one day, “and I couldn’t find a single diamond. Will you tell me why?”
“I don’t mix business with my personal life,” Drasko answered.
He didn’t lie. Until the diamond game, that was true. True until the Crimson Tear had become part of it, and so had Grace.
Tonight was an exception. But then, there were so many lately.
Drasko knocked on the door to Grace’s room.
“Come in!”
Grace stood in front of the mirror, Eden fixing her skirt, and Drasko came to a halt, mesmerized by the sight of her.
Grace turned, giving him a full view of the luscious emerald gown adorning her slender figure. Her hair was elegantly pinned at the back of her head and cascaded down her back. The dress opened her shoulders but left her arms covered.
She studied him too, his tuxedo and bowtie. Every day seemed to be enhancing her confidence. Her gaze had gotten hotter lately. Flirtier? Perhaps, it was all in Drasko’s head. Wishful thinking.
She was breathtaking, though she was rightfully so even in a simple sleeping gown. Or without it.
“Gorgeous,” Drasko complimented, taken by her beauty. “I have something for you.”
Already dazzling, Grace didn’t need diamonds, and the jewelry box in Drasko’s hand was already burning his fingers. But today was important for Grace, and consequently, for the upcoming Mawr auction.
He opened the jewelry box and took out a necklace. The necklace—because of its cost, he’d had to hire an army of Bankees to escort them to the ball later.
Eden clasped her hand over her mouth.
Grace only dropped her gaze to the necklace, then lifted her eyes to Drasko.
“It consists of 9,235 diamonds weighing 320 carats,” he explained as he stepped behind her. “A ninety-two-carat centerpiece.” He wrapped the necklace around Grace’s slender neck. “Seven hues of diamonds. Five jewelers. It took them ninety-six hours to complete the piece.”
When he clasped the necklace closed, he stepped behind Grace and looked at her in the mirror.
Two layers of diamonds encircled her neck. The centerpiece was a rose made out of pink diamonds. Smaller yellow diamonds formed little butterflies. Dangling from the lower level were dozens of teardrops.
Grace put on the matching earrings he offered.
“The necklace is called Arcadia , after a Greek myth about Utopia,” Drasko said. “It’s supposed to be displayed at the auction. The fifteen pink diamonds in its center were cut from the same rough stone of the highest purity. Do you like it?”
She met his gaze in the mirror. “I do. I suppose it is worth?—”
“A Buckingham Palace,” he finished, then flinched at the words once said in a dingy tavern at the port. His memories were still infected by Uriah’s words, but he shook them away. “Don’t go pawning it and running away to America or something.” He winked at her.
She chuckled, the sound of it traveling through his entire body.
He met her playful eyes again. Her every glance was like a zap of electricity, every lingering gaze like warm candlelight in the dark.
There was a giant gap between only months ago and today.
Her gestures were laced with a determination that puzzled him.
Perhaps, she was growing used to him. This might be a good time to tell her what this marriage was all about.
And everything else, everything meaning the bet, the way he had grown up in India, Rakshasa, the Wollendorfs, the game.
Grace turned to face him, her delicious lips so close that his previous thoughts vanished.
She stepped closer and lifted her face to him, her beautiful hazel eyes smiling. “Will you run away with me? Before the auction?”
How was it possible that she sensed something was coming, something painful that even Drasko didn’t know about?
“You can keep the necklace,” he said softly, shifting to the safer topic as they studied each other’s faces.
She smiled a little. “You want me to wear it to the ball.”
“Yes. But it is yours if you want it.”
“I will wear it if you want.”
Her smile became flirty as she raised her hands and fixed his bowtie, the gesture so simple but making his every cell come alive.
Her fingers brushed gently against his chin, playfully but intentionally, a flirty butterfly touch.
With a wicked little smile on her lips, she took his chin between her fingers only for a moment, mimicking his gesture, as she said, “But I don’t mix business with my personal life, husband. ”
Touché.
Her touch was gone right away. In a second, she turned away. But his body flared up at the image of her in his head—naked, with no diamonds or clothes, panting underneath him in the explanation of what that personal life was.
He studied her in the mirror, that delicious little smile he wanted to taste, and stifled a lustful grunt. Oh, he would have made her elaborate, but they were already pressed for time.
And so it was that one of the most expensive pieces for the Mawr auction adorned his wife’s neck as an hour later they entered the marchioness’s ballroom.
Heads turned in their direction.
The dancers stopped.
Hundreds of lights seemed bleak in comparison to the shine of the Arcadia diamonds.
Whispers swept across the large, crowded hall decorated with pompous statues and exotic plants, serving the finest wines and exquisite dishes that no one would talk about afterward because everyone would talk about the Mawrs.
Drasko knew it. So did Grace. An army of Bankees had followed their carriage and now guarded the entire block outside—the necklace was worth a fortune.
But the necklace didn’t matter. She was Drasko’s crown jewel, indeed, yet he’d never told her so.
The marchioness hurried toward them. “Ah! Mr. and Mrs. Mawr! I am so honored!”
Snake , he thought, noticing her hungry eyes on the necklace.
“Tonight’s performance—we are so grateful!”
Of course, they were.
The Duke and Duchess of Trent were next to them, singing praises.
Others already speculated about the price of Arcadia .
The marchioness glowed with pride—it was her event that revealed one of the most talked-about pieces of the upcoming auction.
The wealthiest of the city ah-ed and oh-ed in envious admiration.
The more champagne and brandy they drank, the more open their stares were on Drasko and Grace.
Elias Bayne materialized out of nowhere, insistently hooked his arms with Grace and Drasko’s, and led them away from the insincere greeters.
“Drasko, mate, see to it that your beautiful wife does not get eaten alive by the local piranhas,” he said discreetly. “You should know that’s all the entire ballroom is talking about.”
“The necklace?” Grace asked with a smile.
“You and Drasko.”
“Oh.”
“If you need to be saved, I am here for it. In fact, I should find my cousin and task her with keeping you company this evening.”
Grace laughed. “That’s all right. I am soon to perform. But, Elias!”
“Yes?”
She touched his shoulder. “You are my favorite person in this entire ballroom. Did you know that?”
Elias broke out in laughter, bowed to her then cocked his brow at Drasko. “You see?”
Drasko shifted his gaze to Grace, who cast hers down, yet he knew, could tell by the way she smiled to herself and bit her lip that this was a sweet provocation.
“Is that so?” he asked.
“I should go,” Grace said, smiling. “Julien is waiting for me. I need to get ready and change.”
“Grace?” Drasko called out to her and met her inquiring eyes. “I hope you destroy their little vain hearts with your music tonight.”
She didn’t answer but lifted her chin and walked off, leaving him with Elias.
“You are doing something right,” Elias said, taking a gulp of champagne.
Drasko met his eyes. “How so?”
“There is a glow about her. This… When she looks at you… Or better, when she doesn’t. Like she avoids it.”
“And you suppose that’s a good thing?”
“She is smiling when she doesn’t. She is always smiling. Even when she’s not.”
“You don’t make sense.”
“She is glowing. You are blind, that’s all. In love, of course. But whatever you are doing, keep doing it. Are you done playing games with her? Did you tell her yet?”
“About?”
Elias released a frustrated puff. “Why she is with you.”
The truth would break her, Drasko knew. In the worst-case scenario, she would deem him a liar or insane.
Perhaps, she would not forgive him—what he had done in the past and why she had been dragged into his present.
And if that were the case, he wanted just a little more time with her.
One more night, two, three, a kiss, a dozen, a hundred, however much he could get before the dreadful day of the auction.
So, Drasko waited.
Right now, he waited for his wife to perform. The necklace was a nice touch, but Drasko had come for the performance. For the first time, Grace would play with him in the crowd as her husband, and he stood tall like never before, his heart pounding in anticipation.
He spotted Heinrich Wollendorf in the crowd. The man nodded at him and hurriedly looked away. His brother, Franz, was too cowardly to show up at any event Drasko did.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” announced the concierge on the stage in the center of the hall, making the room full of people go still. “We are proud to present the jewel of music, Mrs. Grace Mawr.”
Grace was performing a piece by Vivaldi, fierce and intricate—Drasko had heard it many times, knew it by heart, and anticipated the sound of it in a hall so grand.
The crowd surged toward the stage. Those behind it parted, letting the musicians walk to the stage.
Once again, the sight of his wife left him gaping, just like everyone else.
Grace walked up the steps, into the light of the stage, and the shocked gasps surged through the crowd.
She had changed indeed into a dress made entirely of pink feathers. A low décolletage exposed the upper slopes of her breasts, her shoulders completely bare. Her skirt flared into an intricate bell-shaped feathered contraption. A crown of feathers was in her hair.