Page 9 of The Tycoon's Diamond Demand

Maja paced the hall, feeling alone, scared, and cornered. Would it help if she explained why she’d dumped Jens in such a cowardly fashion? Would it help for him to know she had been trying to protect him from her father? Or would that simply anger him further? Would he believe her? Would he even care?

Maja walked into the exquisitely decorated room to join him. Because, really, she had no other option.

Jens walked over to the hidden drinks cupboard in the corner and hit a button. The door slid back, revealing ten different whiskies and every type of spirit available. The fridge under the shelves held all the mixers. It was a hell of a hidden bar. He reached for his favourite twelve-year-old whisky, tossed a bigger than normal measure into a crystal tumbler and threw it back, enjoying the warmth, then the burn.

He had a new goal, a fresh mountain to climb, a new challenge to conquer. Maja was going to marry him—just as she’d promised twelve years ago. And as she walked down the aisle in an expensive wedding gown, he’d show the world he’d bested Håkon, that he was the winner. That he had everything of his. It was the only way to get revenge and, hopefully, Håkon would flip over in his grave.

Maja in a wedding dress would complete the circle. It made sense. His wanting to be with Maja had kicked off his feud with Håkon and his declaration to marry her would be the ultimate ‘up yours’. They’d become engaged and he’d insist on them marrying soon.

And then, in front of a packed church, he’d leave her at the altar, just as she’d left him all those years ago.

An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth...

But between now and then, he’d have to ride out a few storms.

Blackmailing Maja into marrying him and then jilting her at the altar was his only shot at getting retribution. Last night, he hadn’t known how to use her secret identity as leverage, but it hadn’t taken him long to figure it out.

And in six weeks, two months at the most, he’d be done with the Hagens for good. They’d be nothing more than a speck in his rear-view mirror.

Jens didn’t ask Maja what she wanted to drink, he just lifted the bottle of Macallan and dumped two fingers into crystal tumblers. He carried the glasses over to where Maja stood and pushed one into her hand.

‘Butler’s night off?’ Maja sarcastically asked.

He shrugged, not bothering to explain that there was no butler and that he only had a housekeeper come in a few times a week to clean. He sent his laundry out and had ready-made meals delivered for nights he didn’t feel like cooking for himself.

As a child of privilege, she wouldn’t understand he still wasn’t used to his incredible wealth. That he allowed himself no time to enjoy it. He still subscribed to his aunt’s ethos of purchasing only what he needed, not what he wanted. He owned this mansion because he’d bought it out of revenge, and the impressive Oslo flat because he needed to live somewhere close to his company’s headquarters. He’d built a luxurious cabin on a private island to the east of Svolvær on land he’d inherited from his aunt for those times when he felt he couldn’t breathe, for when it felt as if the city were closing in on him. He had a small boat for when he needed to get out onto the ocean, one car—the Range Rover outside—and a Ducati superbike for when he wanted to get somewhere fast. Or when he needed the wind in his hair and couldn’t get out to his boat.

He wasn’t into ‘stuff’, didn’t have multiple houses around the world, and when he needed a private jet, or helicopter, he rented one. His only indulgence was art...paintings and sculptures, with a specific emphasis on Scandinavian art. He’d spent many hours listening to Maja about the techniques of her artistic heroes, her favourite paintings, had loved watching her paint and draw. It was the only thing that had stuck after she’d abandoned him.

Jens placed his empty glass on a side table and walked over to the huge doors, reaching up to move the bolt. The doors slid into the walls with a whisper, and he stepped out onto the terrace, immediately heading for the balustrade stopping his guests from falling into the huge heated pool below. He loved to swim—it was his favourite way, apart from sex, to relax.

Sadly, swimming was the only option on the cards tonight.

He turned his head to look back. Maja still stood in the doorway, her eyes on him. She was both puzzled and furious, and she looked exhausted. He had that effect on people. ‘What exactly do you want from me, Jens? What are you planning?’

Okay, he’d tell her. Again. Maybe his message would, eventually, sink in. ‘We’re going to get engaged, plan a huge wedding and you’re going to walk down the church aisle in a white dress.’

‘So you said,’ Maja retorted. ‘But, for the sake of moving this conversation along, why would I do that? Why doyouwant to do that?’

‘Explanations aren’t going to change the outcome, Maja, so we’ll skip them.’

‘You’re expecting me to marry you without an explanation, without some sort of rationale for your ridiculous demands?’

Basically. Jens looked away from her and into the still, fresh night. This situation was complicated and if he had any sense he’d walk away from it, close the door on the past and move on. But that wasn’t an option and walking away from his chance to do to her what she did to him was too good to pass up.

He glanced at the huge hot tub at the end of the decking, wishing he could sink into the super-hot water and let the jets massage away his tension.

‘I want revenge, Maja, it’s that simple.’ Jens turned his back to the railing. She wasn’t going to let this go without an explanation, so he’d give her the edited, slightly embellished version. ‘I presume you know that your father and I locked horns over the years.’

Her expression turned impatient. ‘You two were engaged in a decade-long feud, Jens. I read about it, decided you were both fools and refused to read Norwegian business news again.’

She made them sound as if they were children when their fight had been deadly serious with billions of dollars at stake. ‘Before Håkon died, I staged a hostile takeover of Hagen International.’

She frowned at him, wrinkling her nose. ‘What does that mean? That you were going to buy it without his consent?’

‘It’s more complicated than that,’ he explained. ‘Your father was the majority shareholder of the organisation, but he wasn’t the only shareholder. The company revenues were sinking, shareholders’ dividends also dropped over the past few years. I bypassed your father and approached the shareholders directly and made an offer to buy them out.’

‘And they were prepared to sell to you?’

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