Diamonds Forever

Contents

Cover

About the Book

About the Author

Also by Justine Elyot

Praise for Justine Elyot

Title Page

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Read on for an excerpt from Justine Elyot'
Fallen

Copyright

The bad boy or the rock star?

Jenna Diamond and her bad-boy lover Jason are enjoying an exciting and sensual fling. But he has skeletons from his past which prove challenging to overcome.

And when Jenna's rock-star husband returns, desperate to make amends, she is faced with a difficult decision: she must choose between her new life and her old, between her heart and her head...

The conclusion to the thrillingly erotic Diamond trilogy, from the author of
On Demand

Justine Elyot's kinky take on erotica has been widely anthologised in
Black Lace
's themed collections and in the most popular online sites.

She lives by the sea.

On Demand

Seven Scarlet Tales

Fallen

Diamond

Hearts and Diamonds

‘If you are looking for strings-free erotica, and not for deep romance,
On Demand
is just the book … Indulgent and titillating,
On Demand
is like a tonic for your imagination. The writing is witty, the personal and sexual quirks of the characters entertaining'

Lara Kairos

‘Did I mention that every chapter is highly charged with eroticism, BDSM, D/s, and almost every fantasy you can imagine? If you don't get turned on by at least one of these fantasies, there is no hope for you'

Manic Readers

‘… a rip-roaring, rollercoaster ride of sexual indulgence; eloquently written, at times shocking, and always entertaining'

Ms Love's Books

JENNA, WITH HER
back to the door, and her arms splayed either side of her, palms flat on the wall, tried to focus on her breathing.

One in, one out. Again. And again.

Outside the bedroom, downstairs in the hall, was stuff she really needed not to think about. So she didn't think about it. She just breathed.

One in. One out.

Slowly, steadily, the chaos in her head began to break up and recede.

Three things had happened. She could list them, put them in order. It would calm her. The first thing: Lawrence Harville had trespassed his way into her garden to tell her, with malicious delight, that the charges against him had been dropped. This was dismaying for several reasons. One: he was guilty as sin of masterminding Bledburn's thriving drug trade, then setting up various poor souls as fall guys. One of those poor souls being, of course, her lover, Jason Watson. Two: he knew who had grassed him up – Jenna's personal assistant, Kayley. Three: he would be hell-bent on revenge against the whole lot of them.

Then there was the second thing: Jason's mother's confession that she had known all along who Jason's father was. And, of all the likely candidates in the whole wide world, it had to have been a Harville. The most hated family in Bledburn.
Jason's
own most hated family. The fallout from this was likely to be severe.

And the third thing … She shut her eyes tight, trying to beat back her fury. How
dared
he? How dared Deano Diamond, her estranged ex-husband, turn up at her door, unannounced, tonight of all nights? But that was the easiest of all to deal with. She would just have to send him away. That much, at least, would not give her too much of a headache.

By the time a hesitant knock and a whisper of, ‘Are you OK?' intervened, she had managed to fight off the enormous urge to scream, ‘Enough!', that had sent her into flight.

She was calm. It would be OK.

‘Come in,' she said, stepping away from the door and turning the handle.

She admitted a slender, vivacious young woman in a deep purple taffeta sheath dress.

‘I can't believe what just happened,' said Kayley, stepping in and putting a steadying hand on Jenna's arm. ‘You'll want a sit down, won't you?'

Jenna nodded, grateful to have somebody around who seemed to know what to do. God knew, all her own self-care instincts had temporarily dissolved.

Kayley helped Jenna over to the bed, on which she collapsed, head in hands, and let out a low moan. She felt an arm slide around her shoulders and leant heavily into the other woman's side.

‘Why is he here?' Jenna said, and it was a plea for mercy.

‘He said he thought you'd be pleased. He was trying to get maximum exposure for Jason's show.'

‘The hell he was!' Jenna raised bloodshot eyes to Kayley. ‘Do you believe that?'

‘I don't know.' She shrugged. ‘You know him better than I do.'

‘He'll have his own selfish reasons for it, trust me. Oh God. Tomorrow's papers. Jesus.'

Kayley tried a little grin. ‘It'll turbo-charge Jason's profile, though, won't it?'

But Jenna wouldn't be mollified.

‘Are you kidding? Jason'll be lucky to get two lines at the bottom of the column. It'll be all DIAMOND RECONCILIATION ON THE CARDS.' She waved her hand in the air as if to call the headline into being. ‘I could kill him. Where is he now? Is he still down there?'

‘Tabitha took him into one of the little drawing rooms. Jason tried to chuck him out.'

‘Oh God, did he?'

‘Yeah. After you turned tail and ran up here, he looked Deano right in the eye and said, “Your name's not down, mate.”'

Jenna gasped. ‘He didn't!'

‘Yes, he did.' Kayley sounded amused underneath her concern. ‘And when Tabitha tried to talk him down, he just said it again, louder. That's when she took Deano away from all the action and left us to it.'

Jenna nodded slowly.

‘I should go down and talk to him.' She clutched her brow again. ‘God, poor Jason. His big night, co-opted by non-stop attention-seeking arseholes. I'm going to see that Deano makes this up to him.'

She stood up straight, smoothed herself down, had a brief hair and make-up check, and marched back out, Kayley at her heels.

Luckily no press contingent had spilled in with Deano, so she wasn't photographed on the stairs, but the atmosphere – which had been excitable to start with – was now positively carnivalesque.

If the world could be powered on pure gossip, she just needed to connect this place to the National Grid.

At the foot of the stairs, it became clear that some kind of palaver was taking place in the main exhibition area – her living room.

She peeked in to be confronted by the dismaying sight of Jason, taking all his paintings down and roaring at the guests to leave.

‘Go on, get lost,' he shouted hoarsely, turning another canvas to the wall. ‘Show's over. You've got what you came for. Now fuck off.'

‘Jason!'

Muttering people in black tie and glamorous gowns passed, giving her looks that were sympathetic or curious or just plain greedy.

‘Go and sort your husband out,' he said to her, letting go of the painting to stand, arms folded, staring her down. ‘Go on. Don't mind me. I'm just the bloody artist.'

‘Jason, please …'

‘Get him out, or I'm off.'

She wavered, judging the wisdom of making another appeal to him, but his eyes were dark with anger and pain. She turned on her heel and followed Kayley to a small room beyond the scope of the art exhibition.

When she opened the door, she saw Tabitha, her friend, gallery owner and co-ordinator of the whole show, sitting in deep conversation with the errant rock star ex-husband and another woman in a tight black dress and matching little pillbox hat.

‘Jen, at last,' cried Deano, standing up, his face wreathed in smiles as if this were some kind of joyous reunion.

He came over to her, arms extended, but she sidestepped his embrace and went to sit down beside Tabitha on the brand new cream leather sofa.

‘You could have called,' she said, keeping her voice as flat and unemotional as she could.

‘Well, yeah, I could. But where would be the fun in that? I wanted to surprise you, babe.'

He slunk back over to the sofa and picked up his champagne glass.

‘I don't like surprises. I would have thought you'd have worked that one out, after nearly twenty years together.'

‘Mm, I forgot. Been too long, hasn't it? When I saw the news about your exhibition, I couldn't resist. Booked a flight right away, didn't I, Parker?'

He appealed to the pillbox-hatted woman who, Jenna thought, on giving her a proper look, bore a strong resemblance to Lucy Liu.

‘That's right,' she said, leaning ingratiatingly towards Jenna. ‘He's so spontaneous.'

‘And you would be …?'

‘Sorry, babe. This is my new agent. Parker van Steenburgen.'

Jenna nodded stiffly. ‘Jenna Myatt,' she said. ‘You're an LA agent? I haven't heard of you.'

‘New kid on the block,' she said. ‘Hoping to follow in your incredible footsteps. I mean, seriously, you're like my idol.'

Jenna acknowledged the flattery with a cold inclination of her head, then she turned to Tabitha.

‘Could you go and talk to Jason?' she said. ‘He's not happy and he could do with some support.'

‘Of course.'

‘And perhaps you could leave me and my husband to talk in private,' she suggested to Parker, who looked momentarily affronted before rising with a polite echo of Tabitha's, ‘Of course.'

Jenna took a glass of champagne for herself. She'd earned it, she thought. All she'd done all night was crisis management, and now she was tired of it.

‘So, why are you really here?' she said. ‘Sabotage? Self-promotion? Idle curiosity?'

‘Babe, I thought we were being amicable.'

‘Stop calling me babe.'

‘Jen, come on …'

‘I'm serious, Deano. You didn't tell me you were coming – I suppose because you didn't want me to put you off. If you knew that was likely, why are you here? Why have you come to trash Jason's all-important opening night?'

He paused before answering, raising his eyebrows and smirking in a way that made Jenna want to slap him. That face she had loved, that expression that had made her heart flip. Now all it did was give her fantasies of violence.

‘You're getting your Bleddy accent back, girl,' he said. ‘You sounded just like your mum then.'

‘Shut up. Why?'

‘Oh, Jen, I miss you.' His face crumpled into sorrow. ‘My life's going to shit without you. I've been a fool. I didn't treat you the way I should.'

‘Put it in a song,' she said.

‘Don't. Don't twenty years mean anything to you?'

She stood up, almost spilling champagne all over the luxurious cream leather.

‘How …' She stood, her mouth open but speech failing her for a moment before she was able to continue. ‘How
dare
you?' she finally managed, almost hyperventilating. ‘As if it was me who flaunted my bits on the side all over town? As if it was me who disappeared into a blizzard of cocaine? As if I was the one who started believing my own hype and behaving like a prize twat because “it's what people want from a rock star”. Your words, wanker, not mine.'