Diamond Ice

Book 0: The Gemstone Trilogy

by Naomi Smart

Genres: Contemporary Romance

Synopsis

The thrilling finale in Naomi Smart's exciting BDSM romance series The Gemstone Trilogy, perfect for fans of E. L. James, Sylvia Day, J. Kenner and Tara Sue Me. Upon returning home from a weekend away, Louisa opens her front door to an empty home. As she stumbles through a house littered with cryptic messages, panic begins to take over. It only takes one phone call to know that the past can indeed come back to haunt you. Unwilling to let Evan face the demons of his past alone, she follows him to a house in the middle of nowhere where she encounters much more than she bargained for. With secrets shared and lies revealed, Louisa finds the very core of her relationship beginning to shatter. Her love for Evan, like a fire, has burned brightly for many years, but will her heart now turn to ice against him? Don't miss the entire Gemstone Trilogy: Emerald Fire, Sapphire Storm and Diamond Ice, as well as the Fly High With Me series: Fly High With Me and T he Other Side of the Coin.

Release date: February 14, 2019

Publisher: Accent Press

Print pages: 237

Sample

Chapter One

As the doors to the train release, I remain seated, allowing all other passengers in the same carriage to disembark first and go about their busy lives.

Finally the carriage empties and only a few people remain, obviously all having had the same idea. Leaving my seat, I grab my case from the luggage hold and step out onto my usual platform at Marylebone station.

I walk hastily through the barriers, excitement building at the thought of seeing Evan after a weekend away without him.

When I say a weekend away, I am referring to the occasional stints where I leave my much-loved submissive side at home and unleash my dominant side on a very willing subject and much-loved friend to both Evan and myself – Conor.

What started as an experiment many years ago to see whether I even had a dominant bone in my body and, of course, to make Conor’s fantasy a reality, ended up setting a precedent for this very special friendship.

To this very day, I still find myself laughing at the expression on Conor’s face as I walked into his office a whole new woman. Needless to say, the moment I lead him out by his tie was exactly when I learnt that it was possible to switch from submissive to dominant, and indeed to very much enjoy both sides of the switch. It may have gone further than both of us anticipated, but there’s nothing wrong with having my cake and eating it too.

Although neither Conor nor I can commit to meeting once a month, we make up for it twice over when we finally do. It is fair to say that once the door to our little sanctuary closes, it only opens again to receive room service.

Things, however, are adapted on the occasions that Evan joins me during these visits. For one, Evan refuses to enter the room in which Conor and I have our fun. The room known as our little sanctuary, one that Conor had designed for himself and someone special in his life – which eventually turned out to be me. Evan has no problem with this, having not only consented, years ago, but also being the one who strongly encouraged me to try domination in the first place. No, he simply refuses to enter because he sees that space as ours alone. Mine and Conor’s. Therefore that particular door remains closed when Evan is with me, and we select from one of the other rooms available instead.

The whole arrangement has worked out perfectly. In fact, the only major issue I have, the one which causes me a massive headache on each trip that Evan takes with me, is simply caused by both men’s refusal to act their age when in each other’s company. You’d think they were a pair of horny teenagers, not two incredibly successful, remarkably handsome, fifty year old men!

Although, it doesn’t hurt that Evan and Conor are still every inch as fit and healthy as the day that I met them so many years ago.

When Evan looks at me, with his emerald eyes glistening brightly, he still manages to capture my heart and cause me the same butterflies as he did the very first time I saw him the day that he walked into Clark and Son – the solicitors at which I worked. Evan’s overpowering height and toned body was topped by shoulder-length, dark, wavy hair that framed a perfectly sculpted square jaw that had me all a quiver, right from the word go.

I allow my mind to wonder back to the day that marked our first year together. I had fled to Conor, frustrated and in a state over Evan forgetting our anniversary. That’s how things started with Conor. And yes, the experimentation was fun, but the one memory that still alights my soul and awakens my body is the memory of myself, kneeling, facing the wall, naked and bound. The door behind me opens and closes, and the footsteps I hear approaching are not those of who I was expecting. Bolts of excitement and anticipation course through me at the realisation that Evan is in the room. And boy, our first anniversary was well and truly marked.

Conor has a slighter frame than Evan, along with sparkling sapphire coloured eyes, which are continuously twinkling full of mischief and mirth. He has multi toned, silvery grey hair which is always very stylishly swept back on top and tightly trimmed along the sides. And he still dons the same sexy silver beard that he did on the day I met him on the platform of Leamington Spa train station. I had answered his plea to stop Evan from sinking to the lowest depths after I had been forced to use my safe word on him.

Both the men in my life, now very much live their lives by the philosophy ‘You are only as old as the woman you feel’. Did I ask to be born ten years after them? No. But despite the age difference in my favour, I do have to remind the pair that to keep both happy I have to work hard. Alternating my days between yoga – to remain supple and flexible for Evan, unable to ever predict what playtime will involve – and sessions in the gym – to keep up my strength for my domination of Conor. I don’t think they realise quite how lucky they are. But would I change it? Not in a million years.

However, as I reach the usual spot, Evan isn’t there waiting with open arms ready to whisk me off home for some pleasurable punishment for my sins.

I turn full circle on the spot, not leaving one part of the station visually unchecked. But he is nowhere to be seen.

Ever the stickler for punctuality, Evan lives his life by the hands on the watch I gave him for our first anniversary. The fact that he isn’t here to meet me makes me feel slightly uneasy.

Pulling my phone from my handbag, I check that the text I sent halfway through the journey, letting him know what time my train was due in, actually sent and isn’t just in my outbox.

No, it was sent. Perhaps Evan just got caught up in traffic. After all, I am slightly earlier than usual.

As I take a seat on one of the benches in the station, phone in hand, I wait ten minutes before dialling his number. Placing it to my ear, it rings out multiple times before reaching his voicemail. On a whim, I try the home phone, but there’s still no response.

I hold off another twenty minutes. After a further five failed attempts at calling Evan I give up. Wheeling my case behind me, I head out of the station and into the heavy January rain. As the rain lashes against the pavement, I finally grab a spot of luck when I see a black cab lurking outside in wait for its next fare.

Giving the driver my address, I climb into the back and off we go.

Reaching home, I pay the driver and make my way to the front door, fumbling around in my oversized bag for my keys, getting wetter by the second.

As the door swings open and I step in, I am faced by the darkness of the hallway and the heavy sound of silence. At least that’s the case until I hear scratching coming from the direction of the closed kitchen door. The culprit – our two-year-old springer spaniel.

I had given up all hope of us getting another dog after the loss of Oscar. Then, within a matter of days of returning from our holiday in Italy, out of the blue, Evan walked through the door followed by the patter of tiny little paws.

As Evan walked in with our new four-legged friend, I found myself immediately pounced on by one very energetic little pup.

‘Beautiful, meet Reggie’ Evan had announced. ‘He’s eighteen months old, and too lively for his elderly owners...’

The memory quickly fades as the frantic scratching against the door increases.

Switching on the hall light, and finally closing the front door, I walk towards the kitchen, freeing the noisy creature on the other side.

So used to having the run of both kitchen and hall when left alone, Reggie comes bounding out, shooting past me to the front door and back, nearly knocking me over.

I steady myself and bend down to fuss him, ‘Hey Reg. Where’s Evan then?’

Starting with the dining room, I begin to search the house, with Reggie following eagerly behind.

The living room, just like the dining room, is submerged in total darkness.

Practically running up the stairs I try our bedroom first, clinging to the hope that perhaps Evan is just feeling unwell.

Switching the light on, it is obvious the room is void of his presence. However, what strikes me as odd is our unmade bed. The cover sits piled in a heap in the centre. The golden rule we have is that the last one up always makes the bed.

Leaving the room and closing the door behind me, I move on to Evan’s study. Not bothering to switch on the light this time as I can already sense he is not in here.

Checking the remaining rooms, including our playroom, my heart sinks further and further.

It is fair to say, I am now beginning to hit a state of panic.

Heading back downstairs, I tap my thigh ushering Reggie to follow.

Picking up the phone in the hall, I dial Evan’s mobile number from memory. As it begins to call out, I clutch it to my chest, startled by the sound of music coming from the direction of the living room. ‘Evan’s phone’ I utter under my breath.

Cordless phone in hand, I hit redial whilst entering the room.

Following the sound, I see his mobile resting on the arm of his chair. He never leaves the house without his phone. Something is wrong.

As I pick up the phone, my fingers shaking a little, it’s obvious that it hasn’t been checked for some time. The text message I sent remains unopened, and my attempts to call remain unnoticed.

What if he’s been in an accident? My chest begins to tighten as the panic increases. Come on Louisa, think logically. What should I do?

Without hesitation, I dial the number of the nearest police station. Evan had insisted on storing it in the phone, the action followed by one of his ‘You never know when you may need it’ lectures.

It takes a painstaking five rings before anyone answers, and when they finally do I don’t give them a chance to speak – ‘I need to report a missing person!’

‘How long has this person been missing?’ The rather monotone voice on the other end of the line asks.

‘I don’t know – I mean – I’ve been away for the weekend, and when I got back he was nowhere to be seen. There’s no sign of him anywhere and he’s left his mobile at home.’

‘OK Lovey, try to calm down’ There’s the slightest hint of compassion breaking through the bleak, single-toned voice. ‘As you are unable to confirm the time of his disappearance, we are unable to log him in as a missing person. Not until we can ascertain if it’s been over twenty-four hours. Is there any chance he may have just gone out to meet some friends?’

‘No – this is completely out of character for him!’ I practically scream down the phone.

‘I suggest you calm down and then call back in the morning.’ With this, the line goes dead, and out of sheer frustration I throw the cordless phone. Hitting the fireplace, it smashes into multiple pieces, startling Reggie and causing him to bark.

Slumping down into Evan’s chair, which happens to give me a view of the outside world through the bay window, I look out onto Covent Garden. I beckon Reggie up to join me. Despite his size not generally being considered as lap dog, he manages to get comfortable.

As I stroke his back, I console myself with his company. Running my hand over his soft fur, my mind wonders back once more to the day he came into our lives.

‘At least with Reggie around, I know you will never be on your own.’ Evan’s words echo through my mind.

I had dismissed the comment at the time, but as I sit here with no other company than Reggie, the words start to make sense.

All I can do is sit here, wait and hope that the police officer was right. However, the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach is telling me that Evan is in trouble.

Chapter Two

I open my heavy eyes to the sound of Reggie’s barking. It only takes a matter of seconds to remember that Evan is missing. Perhaps Reggie is trying to tell me he’s home!

A small glimmer of hope seeps into me and I call out his name. But the only thing that answers me is the sound of Reggie’s constant barking.

Rather stiffly, I climb out of Evan’s chair and make my way into the hallway to find out what all the commotion is about.

‘What’s the matter, boy?’ I ask my fury friend as I walk towards the front door where he now stands, staring and barking at the letter box.

There’s something pushed midway through the letter box that catches my eye, the source of Reggie’s outburst.

Pulling out the A5 piece of cream paper, I look at both sides. The only thing which appears to be printed on the paper is a telephone number.

Ushering Reggie aside, I open the front door and step out, checking the street for any signs of who may have delivered the paper.

‘Louisa, dear?’ Startled, I turn around and see Gladys and Arthur, our elderly neighbours, standing at their front door.

‘Oh. Morning.’ I greet the pair, plastering a fake smile on my face. However, I doubt the couple, being as astute as they are, will fall for it.

‘Are you OK dear?’ Gladys steps forward.

Time for honesty.

‘No, not really. I mean – I don’t know where Evan is and he’s left his phone at home so I’m unable to reach him.’

Arthur peers over his wife’s shoulder. ‘Evan popped round to see us quite early Saturday morning. He explained that you were visiting a friend, but something had come up and he needed to go away too. Asked us to keep an eye on Reggie. You know, check in on him from time to time, let him out for the toilet. That kind of thing.’

‘Did he say exactly where he was going?’

Gladys takes my hand as Arthur continues, ‘I’m afraid not love, but he left not long after leaving us.’

I can’t help but notice as the grip of Gladys’ hand tightens around mine that she looks to Arthur as if seeking consent to say something further.

‘Arthur and I were a little concerned when he left. He looked... somewhat troubled. Then a car pulled up. Two men who we didn’t really like the look of got out, opened the door, and then Evan climbed in.’

I feel the colour drain from me, along with the energy to stand.

‘Are you OK Louisa?’ I look from Arthur to Gladys and see their faces etched with concern.

‘I will be, thank you.’ I try to reassure the pair as I let go of Gladys’ hand and edge my way back inside.

With the knowledge just shared, I slam the front door and race up the stairs, heading straight for Evan’s study.

As soon as I enter, my eyes fix on the multitude of papers scattered all over his desk.

Sitting in his chair, I begin to study the five that appear on top of the pile.

Five months to go, Evan...

And the next.

Four months to go...

The next.

Three months and counting...

Then.

Only two months remaining...

And finally.

One month – The time is nearly upon us Evan to celebrate our anniversary. Be ready by 12 noon on the 20th of September. I know I will be...

Each one has been printed in a large bold font, giving no indication of who they are from. More to the point, I have no idea what anniversary they refer to. The thought of Evan having an affair doesn’t even cross my mind. I also know that it doesn’t mark the date he married his ex-wife, Laura.

Confused, I lean back in the chair and rub my forehead. The waste paper bin, which is unusually full, catches my eye.

As I bend down to pick it up, I instantly recognise the contents. Taking one of the A4 hard-backed envelopes out, I slowly turn it over in my hands. This must be why Evan has been so cagy lately, and kind of blows his ‘It’s all to do with a launch for a new wine’ excuse out of the water.

Reggie sits at my feet, head resting on my knee, looking far too cute. ‘What are we going to do, boy?’ As I stroke the top of his head, the card that had been pushed through the door earlier suddenly springs into my mind.

Poor Reggie, he doesn’t even have the chance to move before I’ve grabbed the cordless phone from Evan’s desk, stood up and sprinted down the stairs.

I punch in the number as quickly as I can. Leaning against the wall, with the phone to my ear, I listen to it ring five times. Growing impatient and about to hang up, it is then that I hear the voice I was hoping I would never have to hear again in this lifetime.

‘Hello Louisa. I hope you enjoyed your weekend away.’

My stomach churns as the blood coursing through my veins turns to ice. No longer able to support my own weight, I slide down the wall.

‘I know you are probably in a state of shock at this very moment, so I’m going to do the talking and you are just going to listen.’ The voice continues. ‘Evan and I would like to request the pleasure of your company. You will join us in our little celebration. A car will arrive to collect you at twelve noon. Now, if you wish, you are permitted to bring a few things for both Evan and yourself, to make your stay more comfortable. However, pick wisely as your bag will be searched. Is that clear Louisa?’

‘Yes, Lucas,’ I say around the lump in my throat. I find it difficult to say his name, even after all these years.

‘One more thing, Louisa. I suggest you get into the car without struggling.’

And then the line goes dead.

The phone drops from my hands, but luckily I manage not to break this one.

Lucas. The living ghost haunting Evan when we first met. The ghost that Conor and I tried to put well and truly to rest. But no. After all these years, he is back and for what purpose? No doubt to inflict more misery.

Clearly Lucas still hasn’t moved on. He still hasn’t got over what Evan did to him all that time ago. And yet, I find it hard to be sympathetic. Lucas worked together with Evan’s wife, Laura, to keep him drugged up and oblivious, playing Evan like a fool and milking him for every penny he was worth.

It all came to a head when Evan returned home early one evening and found them in bed together. Laura giving Lucas the one thing that she always refused to give Evan; her submission. Filled with rage, he beat Lucas to a point near death.

It was a period in time that Evan has had no choice other than to live with. But unlike Lucas, he has managed to overcome this darkest part of him.

All of Evan’s recent actions begin to make sense. The making of the will, the persistent comments about not wanting me to be on my own...

Whatever occasion th. . .