Third Debt (Indebted #4)(46)

“No, really—”

“Look, you came with the owner. You wear millions of their diamonds around your neck. I think they’ll let you hold a boring rock like this.”

My hand shot to the collar. The diamonds were warm beneath my touch, humming with vitality—almost as if they recognised their kin.

“When you put it that way.” Taking my sunglasses off, I pushed them on top of my head and hesitantly held out my hand.

“There you go.” He plopped the rock into my palm. I tried to ignore how strange it was to be talking to a half-naked man in a sweltering diamond factory.

When I just stood there, fearing that any moment Kes would arrive with a gun or Cut would chuckle and hurt me, the man shook his head. “Nothing to be scared of.” He pointed at the stone. “Roll it between your fingers, feel the smoothness even though it hasn’t been cut yet.”

I obeyed, stroking the cloudy diamond and feeling the same strange warmth emitting as my necklace. “It feels alive.”

The man nodded. “The heat from the lamps keep them temperate, but it also comes from the diamond itself. There’s an old tale that true diamonds could heat the world. That they hold enough life and love in each stone that we would never be cold again.”

Sadness fell over me. Jethro worked with heat-giving diamonds, yet I’d never known anyone so cold. “If that’s true, I should be forever hot.”

The man chuckled, reaching to stroke my collar. His chair squeaked as his belly dug into the table. “That you should.” His head cocked, eyes feasting on the Weaver Wailer. “I’ve seen those stones before. They’re old…very old.” He frowned, then his face shocked white as he stole the rock from my hand.

My heart raced. “When…when did you see them?”

He pursed his lips, keeping his eyes downcast. “Never mind. Forget I said anything. Go on, carry on looking…there are much prettier rocks a few trays away.”

I touched his knuckles, sickness and dread swimming in my veins. “You saw her, didn’t you?”

He froze. “Saw who?”

I sighed heavily as my mother appeared in my mind. She’d been here. She’d lived through everything I had—a carbon copy of myself. “A woman with shoulder-length black hair, dark eyes, and high cheekbones.” My voice trailed to a whisper. “I’ve been told we look similar…you don’t need to deny it. You saw my mother.”

The man swallowed. “I don’t think I’m allowed to talk about the past, Miss.” His eyes shot upward to the office. “Shit.”

His curse was out of character. I looked up.

My heart fell into my toes.

Jethro.

He stood on the metal staircase, halfway down. One hand on the banister, the other in his trouser pocket. His requisite diamond pin glinted on his lapel looking small compared to the size of some of the stones surrounding us. The lights dazzled, causing his golden eyes to sparkle like the champagne diamonds on the tray before me—just as unique and perfectly cold. Unlike the diamond I’d held, there was nothing flawed about this man.

Apart from his mind, of course.

The more time I spent with him, the more confident I was that Jethro and I were the same in that respect.

I had a physical imbalance. My body hadn’t mastered the art of equilibrium and occasionally malfunctioned. Jethro, on the other hand, had a mental imbalance but in what I hadn’t figured out.

You have a sneaking suspicion, though.

Ever since speaking to Vaughn when we watched one line instead of two appear on the pregnancy test, I’d wondered. Could it be that obvious? Or that surprising?

I need to see Jasmine again.

I hadn’t forgotten the way she’d sobbed as I left—not for me, but her brother. She knew everything, and it was time she shared that knowledge.

Jethro descended the stairs, his eyes never leaving mine.

“Best move along,” the man whispered.

I didn’t want to get him in trouble, but I couldn’t move.

Jethro glided toward us, his gaze narrowed against the glare of the lights.

“Are you enjoying your time inspecting the merchandise, Ms. Weaver?” Jethro smiled curtly at the man beside me. “Christopher, I hope you are indulging my guest’s every whim.”

Christopher swallowed, a droplet of sweat running down his naked chest. “Um, yes, sir.” He shot me a glance, awkwardness all over his face.

I felt sorry for him but furious for my mother. Grabbing Jethro’s arm, I pulled him away from Christopher’s table. Anger bubbled in my veins. “He was kind and helpful and under no circumstances will you discipline him, but he told me something interesting.” Looping my fingers beneath my choker, I growled, “He said he’d seen my collar before.”

Jethro stopped breathing.

“I’m assuming that meant my mother was brought here.”

He didn’t reply.

“She was given the same privileges, wasn’t she? Because everything she learned was destroyed when Cut took her life.”

He balled his hands.

Suddenly, it was all too much. I sighed. “Don’t worry. I won’t force you to talk. I won’t ever attempt to make you do anything again. Can we just leave? I want to go home.”

The minute I said it, visions of my quarters at Hawksridge came to mind…not home in London with Vaughn. I groaned under my breath. Even my memories had replaced my past with all things Hawk.