The Secret Diamond Sisters

Savannah passed, Courtney ordered tea and Peyton got a coffee. The waiter turned to Rebecca next.

“Actually, Brett and I will be leaving now,” Rebecca said, placing her napkin down on the table.

Brett seemed confused for a second, but then he understood. After the waiter left they said their goodbyes, leaving the three of them alone with Adrian.

“Girls,” Adrian said. “I suppose we have a lot to discuss.”

That was the understatement of the past fifteen years.

“Why did you wait so long to contact us?” Peyton broke the ice.

“Has your mom ever told you why she left Las Vegas and moved back to Fairfield?” Adrian asked.

“All she’s told us was that she didn’t want us growing up around your kind of lifestyle,” Courtney said softly.

“And she was right,” Adrian said. “As I mentioned earlier, this life has its dangers.”

“What kind of dangers?” Peyton asked. Adrian Diamond had the world in the palm of his hand. What could be so bad that it would keep him away from his daughters?

“I’ll tell you now, but please listen without interrupting,” Adrian said. “You can ask questions when I’m finished.” The three of them said okay, and he continued, “There’s no easy way to say this, so I’m just going to tell you flat-out. When you were a baby, Courtney, you were kidnapped and held for ransom when your nanny was taking you out for a walk. He took the nanny’s life and said you would be next if I didn’t meet his demands. Luckily I was able to negotiate with him, and he returned you safely. Your mother and I were lucky to get you back, but it could have been worse, and we both knew it. Your mother was traumatized at the thought of what could have happened. She was already pregnant with Savannah at the time, and after such a scare, we agreed it was best for the three of you to live under the radar until you were mature enough to handle yourselves in this kind of environment. We also agreed it would be best for you to not have a connection to me, since that was what put your life in danger in the first place.”

Courtney dropped her teacup onto the plate, the clank of the china filling the room. Peyton had never seen her normally composed sister so speechless. Her heart pounded at the danger Courtney had been in, and more so at the possibility of what could have happened if Adrian hadn’t successfully negotiated with the kidnapper.

“No, Mom never mentioned that to us,” Peyton said, since Courtney clearly wasn’t ready to say anything herself. She didn’t know what she had expected Adrian to say, but it wasn’t that. And if their mom had never told them about something so important, what else could she be hiding?

Peyton couldn’t imagine the possibilities.

“Wow,” Courtney finally managed to say. She blinked a few times, then took another sip of tea, as though it could help her organize her thoughts. “Peyton’s right—she never told us that. But I guess it explains why my baby book was never as detailed as Peyton’s or Savannah’s.”

“What do you mean?” Adrian looked alarmed.

“Just that, with the kidnapping, Mom must have been so stressed that she forgot to update it,” Courtney explained. “And since we moved after it happened...she must not have had time to keep on top of it. Right?”

“Of course.” Adrian stirred his coffee, even though he was drinking it black. He looked so sad, like he was remembering something painful that he didn’t want to think about.

It was a lot to take in. On one hand, Peyton understood how scary something like that would be, and why he would feel like he was a danger to them. On the other, he was their father. He could have involved himself in some part of their lives, even if he couldn’t live in the same city.

“You could have visited,” Savannah said. “Without anyone finding out. It would have been good to know you cared about us a little.”

“I know,” Adrian said. “I made a mistake. After what happened, I threw myself into my work. Your mother didn’t want you to have anything to do with me, and I couldn’t blame her.” His eyes were glassy, as if he was genuinely upset things had turned out the way they had. Maybe he really did want to get to know them now. “Your grandmother never agreed, but it was your mother’s decision. And it was a decision I supported. I wanted to give her money to help raise the three of you, but she refused it, claiming she could take care of her family without my help. Instead, I had it put in trusts for when you’re older.”

A trust fund? Peyton didn’t know how to wrap her mind around that. “If living in Vegas is really that risky for us, then why are we safe here now?” she asked. “Yeah, we’re not babies anymore, but we’re not exactly trained in fending off kidnappers.”

“You will be kept secure at all times,” Adrian said. “I promise you that. I’ve hired professionals to protect you. You won’t even know they exist.”

“If our lives are in danger, why did you wait until now to hire them to protect us?” Peyton asked.

“The men I hire are the best,” Adrian said. “I’ve had guards keeping tabs on you for your whole lives. They dressed modestly while guarding you in California—their usual uniforms would stand out too much there—but now they’ve returned to their formal attire. I believe it’s time I introduced them to you.” He typed something on his phone. Immediately, three men stepped into the private dining room.

They were all tall, built and wearing matching black suits with Bluetooth cords attached into their right ears. But while they all wore the same outfit, they varied greatly in age. One was older, with gray hair and skin beginning to wrinkle, another looked to be a little younger than Adrian, but with dark hair and sharper features. The last one could barely be older than Peyton herself. With his blond hair cut nearly to his scalp and a sculpted body, he could easily pass for a senior on a high school football team. Surely he couldn’t have the same amount of experience as the men beside him.

“Girls, I want you to meet Carl, Teddy and Jackson,” Adrian said, pointing to each man as he said his name.

Carl was the oldest, Teddy was the one who looked Adrian’s age and Jackson was the youngest. Even his name sounded fitting for a football player. His hazel eyes met Peyton’s, his gaze strong and confident, which sent her stomach flipping. How old was he? He had to be older than her, but she doubted he could be more than twenty-five.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Courtney said, and Peyton had to press her lips together to stop from laughing. It always amused her how Courtney remained polite in the strangest situations.

“They have each been assigned to one of you personally,” Adrian said. “Carl is in charge of Savannah, Teddy is in charge of Courtney, and Jackson is in charge of Peyton. They will keep tabs on your whereabouts. They will remain invisible to you as much as possible, but since security in Vegas requires higher measures than Fairfield, you will notice their presence at times. They’ve been staying under the radar today since you were unaware of them and they didn’t want to scare you, but from now on when you leave your condo they will be in the hall, and they will accompany you in the elevators. Apart from those instances, they will mostly go unnoticed by you. This will be an adjustment, but go about your lives the same as you did before you were aware of their presence. They are not babysitters, so they will not tell me anything about your personal lives unless it is necessary for your safety.”

Adrian dismissed the bodyguards, and Peyton gave Jackson one last small smile before he left. He probably wasn’t allowed to show much emotion, especially in front of Adrian, but she thought he smiled back. While she didn’t love the idea of someone trailing her every move, Jackson was hot enough that it didn’t bother her. Maybe he even had a fun side. It would be worth finding out.

“My bodyguard can’t be much older than I am,” Peyton said, hoping Adrian would reveal his age.

“Jackson is young, but he is one of the best at what he does,” Adrian said. “He will do an excellent job keeping you safe at all times.”

Peyton was disappointed he didn’t give her an exact age, but it wasn’t a problem. Jackson would be trailing her every move. She would have many opportunities to discover that fact on her own.

“As I mentioned earlier, you’ll live here for a year and go to Goodman,” Adrian said. Peyton crossed her arms, and he added, “Or another school, if after two months at Goodman you decide it isn’t to your liking. When the year is up, you can choose where you want to go from there. I will support your decisions, as long as they are sensible. There are some rules, though.” He looked each of them in the eyes before continuing. “Since it’s summer, you don’t have a curfew—your bodyguards will keep you safe at all times—but I expect you to come home at night. Once school begins you’ll have a curfew, but we’ll discuss specifics later. I also don’t mind if you have a glass of wine with dinner, or a casual drink with friends. Despite your mother’s struggles, I allow this because it’s the way I was raised. I believe if I prohibit you from drinking, you’ll do it secretly anyway and go overboard with it, as many people your age are known to do. But if you’re caught being irresponsible with alcohol to the point where you embarrass yourself publicly, that will end.”

He paused to let that sink in, then continued, “As I told you in the condo earlier, I have no problem with you using your credit cards to buy what you please. I encourage it, since I doubt you had the privilege to do so in your previous circumstances—but there’s a catch. You may not do anything that will result in bad press for our family. We all know of some infamous hotel heiresses—no need to name names—whom I’ve had to bar from my properties for...inappropriate behavior. It’s in your best interests to remain under the radar. Use your judgment and act wisely, because gossip pages will talk about what you do. People will take pictures of you and post them on the internet. I don’t want any negative attention brought to our family. If that happens, your credit card privileges will be severely limited, and you will have an early curfew. Do you understand?”

Peyton nodded, just so he would drop the subject. She was sick of listening to this lecture. She ignored the rules at home, especially since her mom didn’t follow through with punishments, and she would continue doing whatever she wanted here, no matter what boundaries Adrian tried to place on her. She hadn’t needed an unlimited credit card in Fairfield, and she wasn’t about to become dependent on one now. Plus, no one even knew who they were.

Yet.

Adrian looked straight at Peyton, making her feel uneasy. “No negative press also means no flirting with your future stepbrother,” he said. “That line is not to be crossed.”

“I wasn’t flirting with him,” Peyton protested, glad Adrian hadn’t caught her eyeing up Jackson. She didn’t want him trying to put an end to that before it had a chance to begin. “He looked bored and I was being friendly. It wasn’t anything more.”

Adrian didn’t appear to believe her, but he dismissed the topic. “I’m glad we discussed that, but we need to go to the club. Some of your future classmates will be there. Brett will introduce you to them.” He finished his coffee and continued, “I’m sorry we didn’t have more time to get to know each other since your arrival. Things have been busy around here, and while I wish the timing was better, there will be plenty of opportunity for all that in a few days, after the grand opening for the hotel and residences on Saturday night.”

At that, he stood up to leave the steakhouse. It was time to go to Myst.

chapter 8

Madison Lockhart loved Myst. It was the most extravagant nightclub in Vegas, with its three-story waterfall cascading from the ceiling into the lagoon on the first floor. She sat with her friends in a semicircular booth on the VIP level, waiting for international DJ superstar David Guetta to hit the stage. A few people danced on the elevated lit-up platform—mainly adults who had already had a few drinks. Normally Myst drew a younger crowd, but this Fourth of July party was a special event. The fireworks show was rumored to be better than the one at Caesars Palace, and would be choreographed to David Guetta’s music. Madison couldn’t wait to see it.

She watched her parents step onto the floor and dance with each other. This was one of the few nights they both weren’t working, which was rare since her dad was the lead neurosurgeon at Sunrise Hospital and Medical Center—the best hospital in the state—where her mom also worked as an anesthesiologist. Nights when they looked this relaxed didn’t happen often.

They waved her up to join them, but Madison shook her head. That so wasn’t happening.

“I think your parents want you to dance with them,” Oliver Prescott joked from his seat next to her.

Madison rolled her eyes. She and Oliver had been best friends since elementary school, but whenever she looked at him now she was reminded of how much he’d changed in the past year. Oliver had always been good-looking, but he’d started working out over the past few months, and it showed. Every inch of his body was more defined. He’d also grown his hair out during their sophomore year, and while it wasn’t long, it looked much better than the shaved look he’d tried to pull off when they were freshmen. It brought out his dark eyes. And one thing Oliver knew how to do was use his eyes. He had the “look at a girl and make her melt” technique down perfectly. He could get any girl he wanted, and he knew it. But it didn’t matter who they were—students at UNLV or celebrities—Oliver never kept his attention on one girl for long.

Madison hoped he wouldn’t be like Damien and set his sights on the Diamond girls. That would piss her off. But while Oliver and Damien had a lot in common, Damien liked the emotional game—dating and making girls fall head over heels for him—whereas for Oliver, it was about the physical conquests. But it had never been like that between them. She wouldn’t want to risk messing up their friendship, even if she thought she could trust him in a relationship. He had also been on a gambling spree this summer, but as the son of one of the wealthiest hotel owners in Vegas, at least he could afford it.

Oliver scooted closer to her, tilting his head in concern. “Is something wrong?” he asked softly.

Why had everyone been asking her that recently? First Damien, and now Oliver. It was seriously irritating.

“Nothing’s wrong.” She brushed off the question and poured herself a glass of champagne from the bottle that came with their table. Screw the calories—she needed to relax. She would make it up tomorrow by eating less and adding more time to her workout. “Why would it be?”

Before Oliver could answer, Damien slid into the booth and swung his arm around Madison’s shoulders. His skin radiated heat, like he’d been dancing. “You look amazing,” he said, his face inches from hers. He smelled like vodka and orange juice, and Madison wondered how much he’d had.

“Thanks,” Madison said, glad she’d chosen the Shoshanna dress. She loved wearing black—not only was it slimming, but it looked best on her. This particular dress was sleeveless, so it showed off her defined collarbones, and it was short without being too short, falling to midthigh. Plus, most of the other girls were wearing red, white or blue dresses, so hers stood out.

Oliver shifted in his seat next to her, and he said something to their friend Larissa. Oliver and Larissa had an “agreement”—friends with benefits, or something like that. Madison suspected that Larissa felt more for Oliver than she let on, but he didn’t take her seriously. Which was good, since Oliver and Larissa would make a terrible couple. He deserved someone who would challenge him, and Larissa wasn’t that person.

“You look good, too,” Madison told Damien. It wasn’t a lie. Most girls at the party would have killed to be sitting so close to him. “I like this.” She brought her hand up to the thin leather necklace he had on, allowing her fingers to linger across his skin. “Is it new?”

His breathing slowed at her touch, and Madison curved her lips into a small smile. “I’ve had it for a while,” he said, bringing his hand up to rest on top of hers. “But since you like it I’ll make sure to wear it more often.”

Not wanting to stay like that for too long—she liked occasional contact with Damien, but she didn’t want to lead him on too much—she brought her hand back down to her lap and scanned the room for one person in particular.

It didn’t take long to spot Brett Carmel sitting at the bar by himself. He never was the most social guy on the planet—which was why he was so mysterious to her.

“I’m sick of this champagne,” Madison announced, placing her glass down on the table. “I’m getting something else.”

Damien let her out of the booth, his eyes following her every movement. “Do you want me to go with you?”

“I’m fine.” She glanced at the bar to make sure Brett was still there. He was. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

She sauntered across the club, feeling heads turn, enjoying the rush from the attention. Brett didn’t notice her until she slid into the seat next to him.

“Is this seat taken?” she asked, rotating the stool to face him.

“Nope.” He looked straight ahead and took a swig from his bottle of beer. His lack of excitement to see her disheartened her, but she wouldn’t give up. Maybe he was just having a bad day.

She pointed at his drink. “Didn’t they offer you a glass for that?” Not many people ordered beer on the VIP level, but the bartender should have served it in a classier way.

“It tastes better from the bottle.” He drank from it again, looking behind him like he was searching for someone who wasn’t Madison. What was his problem? Most guys would be thrilled if she gave them the time of day, and Brett had the nerve to act indifferent.

Her confidence waned. Why was Brett so disinterested in her? She might not have a reputation for being the friendliest girl at school, but she wasn’t cruel or slutty. Definitely not slutty. She wasn’t going to whore herself out to any guy who wanted her (which was a lot of them), so she would be patient until she met someone she wanted to be with. There had been times when Madison had contemplated giving up the hope of romance and losing her virginity to a friend. Oliver would probably be on board if she asked. But she held out hope that her first time would be special—with someone she loved, who loved her in return.

“So...” she said to Brett, trying to figure out how to continue the conversation. “I haven’t seen you here recently.”

“That’s because I haven’t been here recently.”

“Oh.” He wasn’t making this not-awkward thing easy. “Why’d you change your mind and come tonight?”

“I was forced.”

Madison didn’t know how to respond, so she ordered a glass of Meursault Chardonnay from the bartender. He carded her and scanned the fake ID Oliver had gotten through a connection for everyone in their group of friends, giving it back to her once it came through okay. The ID was top-notch and hadn’t failed her yet.

Madison lifted the glass to her nose and inhaled. Meursault was her favorite—full and buttery, with a finish of honey. It might mean another 100 fewer calories that she could have tomorrow, but she needed the liquid confidence. She swirled it around and tasted it. “This is delicious.” She savored the sweet aftertaste and held it out to Brett, leaning closer so he got a good look at her cleavage. “It’s my favorite wine. Want to try it?”

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