Third Debt (Indebted #4)(42)

And what Cut wanted, I was determined to deliver.

“Stop standing and staring, let’s walk.” Placing a hand on her lower back, I guided her forward.

She instantly sucked in a breath at the contact.

I waited for my fingers to burn and my heart to jolt…but I felt nothing.

The extra dose finally did what they should.

Nila drifted forward, her eyes taking in the rows upon rows of tables. They faced each other like little cubicles, some manned with staff, others empty. But all of them had numerous trays, tweezers, magnifying glasses, loupes, and black velvet covering the table-tops.

“Why is it so bright in here?” she asked, keeping pace with me.

“You’re in a diamond warehouse. Light is the one tool to highlight flaws from perfections, clarity from cloud.”

Despite the size of our operation, only thirty full-time staff worked for us in Diamond Alley. They’d been vetted, tested, and knew when they’d started working for us that it wasn’t a simple position. Once they signed on the bottom line, there was no quitting or second-guessing their profession. They were ours for life.

To ensure we had no mutiny or unrest, we increased their salary every year, gave them room for promotion, and even compensated their families.

We’d never had an unhappy staff member. But then again, if they were caught stealing, pilfering, or tampering with the merchandise…well, a human life wasn’t worth as much as a diamond.

Nila edged closer. “They’re all in their underwear.”

I eyed the staff members who didn’t bother glancing up—too engrossed in their task and eager to hit their bonus for the day by clearing a certain amount of stones. Various skin colour, contrasting sizes, different sexes—but all one similarity—they all wore black underwear provided by the company.

I nodded. “A condition of employment.”

“Why?”

“I thought it would be obvious? Fewer hiding places. Not to mention, they don’t need clothing with the amount of heat generated from the lights.”

Sweat moistened my brow as we reached the end of the warehouse and climbed the metal steps to the office above. Our footfalls clanged with every climb, shuddering the framework.

“And you sit up there and play God, I suppose,” Nila muttered as we ascended toward the glass-fronted office with its bird’s eye-view down the length of the building.

“It’s a shared office for managers, but in a way we do. After all, we provide a livelihood to the people below us. We treat them well as long as they behave.”

“A bit like me then.” She darted ahead, opening the door and slinking into the office.

Following her, my eyes drank in the glistening sweat on her upper lip and tendrils of hair from her plait sticking to her nape. “You look warm, Ms. Weaver. You could always strip, you know. You are, after all, technically a Hawk employee.”

She bit her lip, the air flaring between us with static electricity.

Shit, why did I say that?

She lowered her gaze, not hiding the way she ogled me. “Perhaps I should.”

Instantly, my cock twitched.

“But only if you strip, too.”

I slammed the door and brushed past her. “Not going to happen.”

Never again. I couldn’t afford to sleep with her. Not if I wanted to stay in my drugged-bubble.

The office was sparse. Bare metal floors, filing cabinets bolted to the walls, a cowhide couch, and a desk in the centre.

Nila stalked me, moving toward the desk I placed between us. “Do you want me to strip because you don’t trust me around the stones or because you want me naked?” Her hands tugged at the jumper cascading off her shoulder. Pulling it further down, the swell of her breast and the tantalizing hint of black lace appeared. “Get naked with me, Jethro. Or don’t you trust yourself around me anymore?”

I gritted my teeth, forcing myself not to react. My cock completely ignored me, thickening to a steel f*cking rod in my pants. Doing my utmost to seem unaffected, I switched on the desk lamp and picked up one of the many Post-it notes and memos stuck to the walnut desk. “Don’t flatter yourself. I told you before, I’m not interested anymore.”

Nila came closer, her fingertips dragging over the table-top. “Not interested…or not allowed?”

My head snapped up. “Be careful.”

“No.”

“What did you just say?”

She narrowed her eyes. “I’m tired of being careful. Being careful only brought me heartache. All my life I’ve been careful, and you know what? I’m sick of it.”

With an erotic twist, she grabbed the hem of her jumper and tugged it over her head. Her plait draped down her back and the tiny white camisole she wore didn’t hide the lacy bra beneath.

Fuck.

It also didn’t hide her pebbled nipples.

“Does this count as being careful, Kite?” Nila dropped the jumper onto the desk, cupping her breasts. “Does this count as acceptable to you?”

I couldn’t breathe.

Everything I’d been running from made my head pound, my cock beg, and the drugs in my system to f*cking disintegrate.

What was it about her? Why did she have this control over me? And why was I utterly, ridiculously helpless around her?

God f*cking help me.