Jewels for Vishnu (Siren Publishing Allure ManLove) Read online

  Jewels for Vishnu

  In Los Angeles, jewelry salesman and designer Corey Oliver is excited when he meets the easygoing personal trainer and fitness model Joey. Corey hopes that their intense sexual relationship will develop into something deeper and more lasting. After all, the handsome and versatile Joey would seem to be all that Corey could ask for in another man.

  But Corey's life becomes complicated when the wealthy Tamil businessman Kaustav Thevar commissions him to design and make jewelry for his bronze statue of the Hindu god Vishnu. Not only does Kaustav have a seductive young houseboy in his employ, but Corey finds himself increasingly attracted to Kaustav, as well. Is Corey asking for too much from Joey, or is Joey ready to commit to a relationship with him? And would it be unethical for Corey to enter into more than a business relation with Kaustav? It seems as though little short of divine intervention can resolve Corey's dilemma.

  Genre: Alternative (M/M or F/F), Contemporary, Interracial

  Length: 90,794 words

  JEWELS FOR VISHNU

  Roland Graeme

  EROTIC ROMANCE

  MANLOVE

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

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  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  IMPRINT: Erotic Romance ManLove

  JEWELS FOR VISHNU

  Copyright © 2012 by Roland Graeme

  E-book ISBN: 978-1-61926-896-8

  First E-book Publication: August 2012

  Cover design by Jinger Heaston

  All cover art and logo copyright © 2012 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  PUBLISHER

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  Letter to Readers

  Dear Readers,

  If you have purchased this copy of Jewels for Vishnu by Roland Graeme from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.

  Regarding E-book Piracy

  This book is copyrighted intellectual property. No other individual or group has resale rights, auction rights, membership rights, sharing rights, or any kind of rights to sell or to give away a copy of this book.

  The author and the publisher work very hard to bring our paying readers high-quality reading entertainment.

  This is Roland Graeme’s livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect Mr. Graeme’s right to earn a living from her work.

  Amanda Hilton, Publisher

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  www.BookStrand.com

  DEDICATION

  For the bronze artisans of Thimmakudi

  JEWELS FOR VISHNU

  ROLAND GRAEME

  Copyright © 2012

  Chapter One:

  A Proposal and a Proposition

  The owner of the store, and his employees, were performing their daily close-of-business ritual of transferring the stock from the display cases, in the store itself, to the safe, which was located in an interior room.

  Corey Oliver handed his boss a display tray, covered with black velvet, containing an assortment of diamond rings.

  “This is the last one, Mr. Rosenthal.”

  “Thank you, Corey. You can go home. I’ll lock up.”

  Rosenthal’s was one of the most exclusive jewelry stores in Beverly Hills. So exclusive was it, in fact, that it was located near Rodeo Drive, as opposed to on Rodeo Drive. A tourist, casually window shopping, might not be aware of its existence. Rosenthal’s didn’t need to cultivate the tourist trade. It had its own loyal local clientele. The store was open seven days a week. Today was Wednesday, the one day during the work week when the store closed in the late afternoon instead of keeping evening hours.

  Rosenthal’s always had a uniformed armed security guard on duty during business hours. The one on duty today, Fernando, was standing by the entrance, waiting to let Corey out. The door was already locked, with the closed sign in place.

  Fernando was an amiable young Latino man who could look intimating when he chose to. This was an advantage on the job. He lifted weights and possessed a reassuring bulk, even when he was standing in repose, as he was now. Corey knew that he supplemented his income by working as a bouncer in a popular bar some nights.

  “Good night, Corey.”

  “Good night, Fernando. I’ll see you in the morning.” And in my dreams, Corey added facetiously. Or, he had to admit as the security guard let him out, perhaps not so facetiously. Fernando was the kind of brawny raw material of which many an urban gay male’s fantasies might be made. Corey wouldn’t mind bouncing up and down on him, even at the risk of ending up bruised.

  Out on the sidewalk, Corey pulled his sunglasses out of his pocket and put them on. The sunlight was glaringly bright, but it wasn’t unusually hot outside today, by the standards of Los Angeles.

  One of the perks of working for such a prestigious establishment as Rosenthal’s was that Corey had his own assigned parking space in the small private lot behind the building. He got behind the wheel of his pristine white vintage Triumph and pulled out into the main street, expertly negotiating the late-afternoon traffic.

  He began to make the mental transition from work mode to post-quitting-time mode. Now the only question was whether he wanted to go directly home or stop somewhere first for a drink or a coffee. He decided on the second option. There was a pleasant little coffee shop a few blocks away, and it tended not to be too crowded at this time of the day. With luck, instead of having to get his coffee to go, Corey could sit down and relax for fifteen or twenty minutes before he headed to his apartment.

  Luck truly seemed to be with him, when to his surprise he had no difficulty finding a parking spot, nearby on the street.

  Before going into the coffee shop, Corey checked out his reflection in its window. He wasn’t excessively vain by nature, but he was reassured to see that he didn’t look too rumpled after his day at work. Of course, he’d hardly been laboring in a sweatshop but had spent his shift in air-conditioned comfort, which had helped.

  His hair stylist, David, had suggested that he let his light-blond hair grow out a little, “to give me somet
hing to work with, so we can try a different look for you.” Since this had required Corey to skip a session or two, David at least couldn’t be accused of venality. When, feeling distinctly shaggy, Corey had finally made an appointment, he had firmly refused to allow David to “enhance” his natural hair color, let alone give him any highlights or frosted tips. But Corey had to admit that the new cut David had given him looked good. And, as David had promised, it was low maintenance, falling naturally into place when Corey let it air-dry on its own, after a shampoo.

  He ordered his coffee and took it to one of the little tables, each with two chairs, that the management provided for customers. Corey took his laptop out of its carrying bag and opened it on the table. This location, he’d discovered during past visits, had excellent Wi-Fi reception. As he sipped his coffee, he began to check his e-mails.

  To his disappointment, there were no messages of any great interest. Specifically, no potential customers were making inquiries about the small jewelry-making business Corey operated in his spare time. And worse, none of his fuck buddies had sent him a message, looking for some late-afternoon or evening action. His mind wandered.

  It had been a routine day at work. Corey had sold a few pieces, all to new customers who came in from the street. He’d had lunch at a restaurant down the street where he was known as a regular customer and was treated as such. He’d spotted two or three attractive men coming and going on the street who provided him with some harmless, fleeting fantasy fodder. In short, nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

  Corey smiled as he thought about the last time a customer who might be described as outside the ordinary had come into the store. His name was Ryan, and he and Corey had quickly male-bonded over the display cases.

  It was somewhat ironic than a gay man should find himself frequently assuming the role of mentor to nervous heterosexual men. The moment Ryan stepped through the front door of the shop, Corey had him pegged. He was about Corey’s age, which was thirty-two, and good-looking in a somewhat bland, generic way. Careful grooming enhanced his appearance, taking it up a notch or two. He was, at a superficial first glance, “casually” dressed in jeans and a polo shirt, the latter in a distinctive mauve color, but Corey’s practiced eye could tell that he was in fact carrying quite a few thousand dollars around on his back. The jeans and shirt were designer items and were top quality, as were the shoes and the belt. The glimpse Corey got of the socks confirmed that they were expensive, as well. But even more telling were the accessories. As far as Corey was concerned, it was accessories, not clothes per se, that made the man. This guy was wearing a small, discreet wristwatch. It wasn’t the massive, ostentatious kind of a watch that looked more like a weapon than a timepiece. But it was a Hublot, which told Corey all he really needed to know about this man’s probable disposable income and taste. The open neck of the polo shirt afforded a glimpse of a slim but top-quality gold neck chain. The man wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.

  Let me take a wild guess, Corey told himself a bit cynically as the man oriented himself within the store and glanced automatically at some of the display cases. This is definitely a straight guy looking for a gift for his girlfriend. An important gift, from the way he seems to be on edge. Either he screwed up and is looking for a peace offering or it’s her birthday or their anniversary. Maybe he even intends to propose to her, after agonizing over it for a long time, and he’s finally broken down and decided to buy an engagement ring.

  The two men made eye contact. The customer seemed relieved by Corey’s carefully cultivated nonthreatening looks and manner.

  “How may I help you, sir?” Corey asked.

  “I was told this is a pretty good jewelry store.”

  “We do everything we can to try to be one of the best in town,” Corey said smoothly. “And I’ll personally do my best to prove it to you. Are you looking for anything in particular?”

  “I’m going to get married.”

  “Congratulations.”

  “That is, I think I’m going to get married. I hope I am. You see, I haven’t actually asked her yet.”

  Bingo! Corey wanted to exclaim. “But you intend to ask her soon?”

  “As soon as I can work up the nerve.”

  “I imagine you’ll want an engagement ring?”

  “Yeah. A diamond. A big one,” the customer specified. “Every time one of her girlfriends gets engaged, that’s all I hear about—how great the engagement ring is.”

  “I think we’ll be able to find something that will have her girlfriends talking about how great her ring is, for a change. Why don’t you come on over here so I can show you some of the things we have in stock. My name’s Corey, by the way. Here’s my business card.”

  “I’m Ryan. Nice to meet you.”

  Long experience had taught Corey how to put a customer at his ease and how to sound him out. Under the guise of making small talk, Corey soon found out what amount Ryan was willing to spend and what his girlfriend’s taste in clothes and jewelry was like. Gradually steering the conversation back to business, Corey discussed possible payment options. Then he explained the store’s exchange and return policies. If Ryan’s fiancée didn’t like the ring he picked out, she could, of course, return to the store with him to select another.

  “At the price range we’re talking about,” Corey said, “I’d suggest that, instead of any of these ready-made rings, we choose a stone first, and then find the perfect setting for it. And, based on what you’ve told me about the lady’s taste, I think we should keep the setting simple—but elegant, of course.”

  “All right. You’re the expert. You’re going to have to guide me through this.”

  Ryan, Corey discovered, had come prepared, which was more than Corey could say for some guys in his situation. He’d “borrowed” from his girlfriend’s jewelry case a cocktail ring that she often wore on the third finger of her left hand when they went out in the evening, and which fit her perfectly. Corey was able to slip this onto his ring sizer to determine the exact size she took.

  “Don’t forget to sneak it back in the case before she notices it’s missing,” he warned Ryan.

  “I won’t.” Ryan was now much more at ease.

  “Now, here’s part of our selection of unset diamonds. These are all within your price range. They weigh between six and eight carats.”

  “But bigger is better, right?”

  “Not necessarily. For a piece of evening jewelry to be worn on special occasions, perhaps. But for something as important as an engagement ring, the quality of the stone and the expertise of the cut are the primary considerations. A slightly smaller but higher-quality stone may have less of a ‘wow!’ factor at first glance. But it will hold up much better in the long run. And anyone who really knows jewelry will be able to tell the difference, and appreciate it.”

  Ryan was looking at the unset diamonds nestled in their black-velvet bed.

  “These are all beautiful,” Ryan said. “I wouldn’t know how to choose among them. Come on, tell me, which one would you pick out for your girlfriend?”

  Corey suppressed a smile at the thought of this purely theoretical girlfriend. “In all honesty, if I were in your position, I would give serious consideration to this stone. It’s what we call an emerald cut, and as you can see it has this flat rectangular top surface, which we call the ‘table.’ It’s a little over seven point six carats, not quite as large as some of the others, but unlike some of them, it is absolutely without a flaw. It’s one of those rare diamonds that can truly be described, without hyperbole, as perfect. It’s not only beautiful in its own right—it will appreciate in value over the years.”

  Ryan decided he liked the stone. The next step was the selection of a setting. Corey recommended a simple platinum one, which would keep the emphasis on the diamond itself and would display its cut to full advantage.

  “I can have it ready for you to pick up in a day or two,” Corey promised.

  “All right. So I guess I can�
�t delay asking her for much longer, can I?”

  Corey smiled. “Not once you have this ring burning a hole in your pocket. By the way, what’s her favorite color?”

  “Um, what they call mauve, I think. The same color as my shirt. She bought this for me for my birthday. Why do you ask?”

  “You’ll see. I’ll try to find a really nice ring box in that color. It might help to tip the balance in your favor.”

  Ryan wanted to pay for the ring up front with his credit card. When Corey swiped it through the machine, the full amount was approved as a deduction from Ryan’s bank account at once. Corey hadn’t read this guy wrong. Financially, he was well-off.

  With this transaction completed, Ryan left the store, looking relieved.

  It had been a good sale and a comparatively easy one. Corey was used to dealing with customers who were much more difficult to please. He always tried to treat all customers alike. But he liked Ryan, perhaps because he sensed a certain vulnerability in the guy, and as a result Corey was determined to make his best effort for him.

  Corey had to make a few phone calls before he found a supplier who had a mauve ring box in stock.

  When Ryan returned to the store two days later, in a frame of mind somewhere between nervousness and ebullience, Corey triumphantly showed him the box.

  “Oh, my God!” Ryan exclaimed. “That’s it, man. That’s her favorite color.”

  “Just a little icing on the cake, to sweeten the deal. Open it.”

  Ryan did so. The ring was nestled in a bed of contrasting mauve satin. The stone flashed in the light, as though a tiny white flame was trapped deep inside it.