The Sapphire Affair (Jewel #1)

For him to turn around and battle so coldly to keep everything when they split had hollowed out Steph’s insides.

Her chest burned with frustration over how he’d hurt the one person he was supposed to adore, then took her for everything he could get his hands on. Fine, both Eli and her mom had said their feelings for Steph and Robert were totally separate from their marriage, and perhaps that was true. But it was also true that even a happy family could fall apart, and that was just more proof to her that her mother was right—all men were trouble.

After she said good-bye and led a sunset dive that her customers said was one of their Miami vacation highlights—a sentiment that warmed her heart—Steph changed her flight to the Caymans. A few extra days on the front end, and she’d use that time to do some digging.

It might be a long shot, but maybe, just maybe, Eli hadn’t stolen to start his club. Maybe some shred of the man she loved like a father still existed and this was some sort of misunderstanding. Money matters were complicated, after all.

And if he had taken what wasn’t his, perhaps he’d respond to a logical, polite, heartfelt plea to do the right thing. Especially if she was the one to deliver that plea. She’d been his soft spot growing up. Maybe she still could be now.

But if it turned out he’d taken what wasn’t his, then she’d kick this damn hope to the curb and fight like hell to get her mother’s money back.

Because you just can’t let the bastards get away with everything.





CHAPTER THREE


Art, a tropical island, and some bad chocolate. That’s what Jake’s next gig was all about.

Crying shame, since chocolate should only be good.

“Let me get this straight. You think Eli put the stolen money from chocolate investments gone wrong into art, and took that art out of the country?”

His client nodded. “It’s easier to move art than money.”

Jake scratched his chin. “Another question. Chocolate is an actual investment? Should I be buying up Godiva now? Scharffen Berger?” Jake arched an eyebrow as he took off his shades. He looked Andrew in the eyes as the sun cast golden rays on the Key Largo boardwalk. Andrew had driven down from Miami where he was based and hadn’t even balked when Jake moved the location of their meeting from his office to the boardwalk at midday. The gray-haired man was dressed in slacks and a button-down. Jake was dressed for a dip in the water with his nephew when they were done.

“Cocoa beans are a commodity,” Andrew said, wiping a big paw across his sweaty forehead. He had a manila envelope tucked under his arm. “Apparently, cocoa beans are the new coconuts. Or so we thought.”

“Like that coconut water crap?” Jake asked as he peered down the boardwalk to make sure Mason didn’t get too far away on his bike. His nephew pedaled past a sandwich shop. “I mean, Mother Nature’s sports drink,” he said in mock seriousness. “What’s next? Chocolate water that makes you healthier?”

Andrew rolled his eyes. “Don’t even get me started. I tried that coconut water diet and it did nothing for me. Hoping it would have taken ten pounds off the old flat tire here, but no such luck.” He patted his stomach, then pointed to Jake. “But you, I’m sure you don’t have to worry about that.”

Jake simply shrugged. No flat tires allowed here, but this meeting wasn’t about diet crazes or the best way to stay in shape. It was about whether Jake could help Andrew and his screwed-over business partner.

He hung his shades on the neck of his T-shirt. “So you’re saying Eli Thompson, who started the Eli Fund twenty years ago, with money his then-wife gave him from sales of her craft fair coral necklace jewelry, so he could launch a hedge fund for ‘Bob in Middle America,’” Jake said, stopping to sketch air quotes as he used the term Eli himself bandied about in the marketing of his investment firm, “has been skimming pennies off the top for years?”

“Yup. And you know what happens to lots of pennies over time?”

“I’m going to go out on a limb here. Do they turn into dollars? And then do those dollars become Benjamins and so on?” He made a rolling gesture with his hand.

Andrew tapped his nose. “Bingo.”

Jake peered down the boardwalk. “Mason!” he shouted to his sister’s kid, who was speeding off in the distance. “Don’t go past the ice-cream shop. That’s too far.”

“Ten bucks says that’s probably where he’s headed,” Andrew said with a smile.

“Double or nothing says you’re right,” Jake said, then started walking in Mason’s direction. His nephew had just learned to ride a bike after a few solid months of practice. The kid was a natural now, but he was embracing his freedom a little too quickly for his uncle’s taste. With flip-flops slapping on the sidewalk, Jake quickened his pace. “Be right back,” he said to his potential client. Seconds later, Mason turned around and grinned wildly.