Читать книгу The Best Of The Year - Modern Romance - Мишель Смарт, Annie West - Страница 21
ОглавлениеSHOCK RICOCHETED THROUGH ANA. ‘I don’t believe you.’ The words spilled out before she could stop them.
His mouth compressed, and his eyes were as cold as the Alps of his native Switzerland.
Without answering, he pressed a button in the keypad near his wrist. She watched with escalating dread as a monitor sprang up from the centre console and flickered to life. Once it had clicked into place he angled it to face her.
The jumble of words and numbers scrolling beneath the picture on the screen sent a surge of almost debilitating insecurity rushing through her. Feeling his gaze on her, she struggled to remain calm, not to give him any more ammunition against her. But even without adequate understanding Ana had watched enough television to grasp what the graph meant. Heart thudding, she followed the red line descending with alarming speed.
At the top right hand corner of the screen she saw the time emblazoned clearly: 15:32.
‘Turn it off,’ she snapped hoarsely.
‘That won’t make it go away,’ he rasped.
Pulling her gaze from the screen, she glanced down at her hands, saw the death grip she had on her purse and forced herself to relax. ‘Turn it off, Bastien. You’ve made your point.’
The screen disappeared into its casing.
Nervously, she licked her lips. ‘There must be something we...I can do?’
‘Not being caught in possession of drugs would’ve been the single, most positive outcome to this whole situation.’
She glared at him. ‘We can keep circling this conversation or we can discuss a useful way forward. Either way, my answer isn’t going to change. I don’t take drugs!’
‘So you were framed? That’s a little too convenient, don’t you think?’ he returned.
‘Convenient? I’ve just spent the night freezing my behind off in a cold cell for something I didn’t do. “Convenient” is the last way I’d describe my predicament.’
‘Well, you’ll have to start unravelling your predicament, fast. Your trial’s in three weeks,’ he informed her calmly.
‘Three weeks?’ Another wave of horror washed over her.
Bastien folded his arms over his chest. ‘You expect me to believe you’re not under the influence of drugs, and yet you can’t recall events that happened less than an hour ago.’
‘I was scared—all right?’ Her voice emerged more shrilly than she’d intended.
A flash of emotion lit his eyes. She wanted to fool herself into thinking it was compassion, but it disappeared way too quickly for her to be certain.
She cleared her throat. ‘I know I should’ve paid more attention in court. And I was. Before...before you showed up.’
‘Are you saying I distracted you?’
‘It wouldn’t be the first time,’ she replied.
His eyes narrowed but he didn’t respond. Their time in Cannes was a subject they both wanted to avoid.
So why did she keep thinking about it...and reliving it?
No more.
She forced herself to look into his eyes.
‘The last twelve hours have been difficult. I know it looks bad, but I haven’t done anything wrong. Someone put the drugs in my bag. I don’t know why. I’m innocent.’
She breathed a sigh of satisfaction when her voice stayed even. She could do this. Remaining calm was key to finding a way out of this mess.
‘Miss Duval, whether you’re innocent or not, my company continues to haemorrhage money.’ He flicked a glance at his watch. ‘The market closes in twenty-five minutes. Someone needs to be held accountable.’
‘But I can’t do anything in twenty-five minutes!’ Hysteria threatened to dissolve her shaky calm. Sucking in a desperate breath, she glanced out of the window.
And stiffened.
‘This isn’t the way to my flat.’ Nor was it the way to the agency. The crazy thought that he was kidnapping her surfaced. Frowning, she brushed it away. Bastien had no reason to kidnap her. ‘Where are you taking me?’
He took his time to brush away an invisible piece of lint from his neatly pressed trousers before resting his unsettling gaze on her. ‘A condition of your bail was that I’d vouch for your whereabouts at all times. Which means that until your trial where I go, you go. I have to report to the board in Geneva first thing in the morning. You’re coming with me.’
Ana’s mouth dropped open for several stunned seconds before she snapped it shut. ‘Like hell I am! Stop the car.’
She strained against her seatbelt, renewed trepidation rattling through her chest. She’d been in his company for less than an hour and already a feeling of panic far greater than she’d felt in court threatened her. After what had happened the last time she’d spent more than half an hour in his company, she didn’t want to go a mile with Bastien Heidecker— never mind several hundred.
Why on earth hadn’t she paid more attention in court? She would never have agreed to this condition.
Like you had a choice...
She silenced the taunting voice. There was always a choice, and she wasn’t about to hand him her head on a plate. Furiously, she fumbled with the seatbelt, cursing silently when her numb fingers couldn’t work it free.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ he asked, his tone mildly amused.
‘Did you not hear what I said? I’m not going anywhere with you.’ The belt snapped free. She lunged for the door. Thankfully, the car was cruising at a slow pace.
‘And what? You intend to jump out of a moving car to avoid that?’
She grabbed the handle, her need to get out of Bastien’s disturbing sphere of control paramount. ‘Tell your driver to stop the car.’
Speculative eyes narrowed on her face. She was close to hysteria, but she didn’t care. The need to escape was a living, writhing being inside her, demanding compliance.
‘So you intend to flout the law and walk away from your responsibilities?’ he asked, his voice a chilled knife.
‘I intend to walk away from your bullying tactics. Don’t think I don’t know why you’re doing this.’
‘And why is it, exactly?’
Because of what happened in Cannes! Because of what my mother did to your family!
She swallowed the words. Voicing the details of their jagged past didn’t seem like such a good idea.
‘What good will taking me out of the country do? I’m much better off here, finding out what happened, don’t you think?’ she countered.
‘I have no wish to be hauled to jail for breaking the law, Miss Duval. Besides, how are you going to find out who supposedly framed you?’
She bit her lip. ‘I don’t know yet.’
One eyebrow quirked. ‘Let me know when you have a plan of action. In the meantime we follow the judge’s ruling to the last letter.’
Despite his steady gaze and even steadier words Ana experienced a dark foreboding. Something dangerous lurked beneath his outward calm, warning her that once she took this step there would be no going back.
The thought seized her in its grip. ‘No. I’m not going to hide from my situation, but neither am I going to Geneva with you.’
A look of cynical resignation crossed his face but he didn’t speak.
The limo stopped at a traffic light. Without waiting for an answer, she yanked open the door.
For a split second she anticipated his icy voice ordering her to stay put, or—worse—the hands that had taken such domineering control of her at the courthouse hauling her back inside. But a heartbeat later she stood on the pavement, breathing in clear, fresh air.
Free.
Not stopping to examine the weird anti-climactic sensation enveloping her, she slammed the door and whirled away.
The icy January wind cut through her flimsy dress, its bite so ferocious it took her breath away. Clutching her purse in one hand, she pulled the lapels of the warm jacket around her. The sign for Charing Cross tube station beckoned. She started towards it. Only to stumble to a stop after a few steps.
As suddenly as it rose, her elation ebbed.
What was she doing?
‘You intend to walk away from your responsibilities?’
Guilt gnawed at her. She’d done nothing wrong. She could repeat that to herself a thousand times over. Yet it didn’t alter the reality of her situation.
Whether she liked it or not, she owed Bastien Heidecker. He might not have had grounds to fire her two months ago, but he had grounds now.
More importantly, he’d saved her from prison. He hadn’t been obliged to bail her out or even to show up in court. But he had.
The memory of the fifteen-year-old Bastien who’d cleaned her cut when she’d fallen in his parents’ garden in Verbier slammed into her thoughts. With crystal clarity she recalled his gentle hands as he’d tended her wound and the stoic but kind smile he’d bestowed on her once the plaster was in place. Even his admonishment to be careful on the loose steps leading to the garden had been gentle.
That had been the one and only time Bastien had genuinely smiled at her.
She pushed the memory away. There was an ocean of difference between that Bastien and this one. And even that Bastien had been an anomaly. It had been the only time during that whole miserable winter that he’d softened towards her. The rest of the time he’d frozen her out, looked right through her with those arctic grey eyes as if she didn’t exist.
The urge now to pretend he didn’t exist, to keep walking, was strong.
But she couldn’t move. Her sense of integrity wouldn’t allow her. Despite their chaotic past, he’d stuck his neck out for her.
And she’d never walked away from her responsibilities before.
She spun around. The lights had turned green and the limo was pulling into the traffic. Panicked, she raced after it, cursing as her heels nearly sent her flying again.
‘Wait!’
Her shout was useless as the car sped away. Cold that had nothing to do with the freezing weather gripped her chest.
In the face of her mother’s faithlessness Ana had tried to live her life by a strict moral code. And she’d just let herself down spectacularly.
Noticing the curious glances from passers-by, she swiped a hand over her face.
When the mobile phone rang she didn’t recognise where it came from. Glancing down, she realised she still wore Bastien’s jacket.
Frantically, she tore through the pockets, grabbed the phone and answered it.
‘Have you come to your senses yet?’
* * *
Bastien watched Ana fight to control her irritation, the rise and fall of her chest rapid as she took several deep breaths. Against his will, his mouth twitched at the effort it took for her to remain silent. The child he’d known all those years ago wouldn’t have held back her Latin temper at being made to chase after his car.
With her seatbelt on, her breasts stood out in proud prominence, the thin material of her dress displaying the tight peaks of her nipples. His senses stirred again, deeper, as he recalled how they felt, how they tasted. In her agitation earlier she’d bitten her lip repeatedly, making it fuller, redder than usual, making her natural, sensual pout even more pronounced, despite her mouth being pursed with displeasure.
He clamped down on the hot fizz of arousal and wrenched his gaze away. Unfortunately there was nowhere else on her body he could look without increasing the unwelcome sensations rampaging through him, threatening to drown him. Looking out of the window the way he’d tried earlier didn’t work.
For reasons he couldn’t comprehend his senses were sharply attuned to every move Ana Duval made. But this time he refused to succumb to the spell she was weaving.
He preferred curvy petite blondes with no baggage. He carried enough baggage from his childhood to last him a lifetime. And Ana Duval carried plenty of her own.
It was the reason he’d tried to have her thrown off his advertising campaign two months ago, when he’d discovered who his management team had chosen for the ads.
He’d been stunned when she’d actually smiled on seeing him on the boat. As if she was pleased to see him. When he’d made the reason for his visit clear she’d slowly, gracefully, uncurled herself from that sensual pose she’d been holding, faced him and dared him to do his worst.
And he nearly had...
Luckily he’d stopped himself in time—had walked away convinced that Ana, with her lithe, svelte figure and river of shining black hair, held no thrall for him.
Now he glanced into her wide, accusing eyes and willed the pounding in his blood away. He would never succumb to her temptation. Never be drawn into the emotional quagmire she carried with her. He was more than content living in his emotionally desolate state.
‘You knew I was trying to stop the car and yet you pulled away.’
‘I thought a few minutes in the cold would knock some sense into you.’ Again, the urge to smile at her waspish tone pulled at him.
‘You really are heartless—you know that?’
‘What did you think? That I’d appear like a magical genie, rescue you from the big, bad judge and grant you three wishes into the bargain?’
The irritated flick of her head drew his attention to the sleek line of her throat, to the swift pulse hammering away under her smooth skin.
‘No, of course not. But a little courtesy wouldn’t have been amiss.’
‘I’m not in the habit of granting courtesies to errant employees. Be grateful I didn’t leave you to rot in prison.’
‘Maybe you should have!’
The slightly hysterical edge to her tone gave him pause. With a tiny pang he admitted that perhaps he was being too harsh, letting his own frazzled state get in the way of clear thinking.
But then hadn’t she had this effect on him last time?
‘Does anyone hold a grudge against you and want to frame you like this?’ he asked. The quicker they got to the bottom of her predicament the quicker they could go their separate ways.
The shadows receded from her eyes. Sharp sensation pierced him at her grateful look but he squashed it.
Her generous lips curved in a small, cynical smile. ‘This is the modelling industry, Bastien. The number one rule is never to turn your back on a fellow model unless you want a knife buried in it.’
His name on her lips made that unnerving sensation pierce harder. He shifted in his seat, his jaw clenching, and rejected the feeling. ‘So you think someone’s trying to jeopardise your position with DBH for their own ends?’
She shook her head, sending the silky tresses sliding over her shoulders. ‘I don’t see why. If someone wanted the assignment that badly they would’ve tried something at the beginning of the campaign—not when it’s almost finished. How about you?’
Shock darted up his spine at her firm challenge. Witnessing her healthy suspicion made him want to laugh out loud. ‘Excusez moi?’
‘Have you annoyed anyone lately? Anyone who’d want to see your business fail? I know I haven’t done anything like that.’
‘Nice trick to try and shift the blame on to me, Miss Duval, but no.’
She shrugged. ‘It was worth a try. You’re convinced I have skeletons in my closet. I merely wanted you to examine yours in case we were missing anything.’
‘But I’m not the one charged with drug possession, am I?’
‘Maybe a business rival is trying to get to you. What better way to bring down your company?’
He barely examined her line of reasoning before dismissing it. The last threatened takeover of one of the Heidecker companies had happened two years ago. He’d given the opposition a neat trouncing and sent them running with their tails between their legs.
‘Another thing—we’ve known each other since we were children, so what’s with the Miss Duval? Can’t you call me Ana?’ she suggested with a tentative smile.
The slight softening he’d allowed himself to feel immediately hardened.
How casually she’d tossed that memory into his lap. As if he hadn’t spent years trying to forget that time—as if the repercussions of those horrific weeks they’d spent together hadn’t lasted to this day.
Bitterness coated his mouth. ‘We spent an unwelcome eight weeks together sixteen years ago—very much against our will—when your mother decided to seduce my father and he foolishly let his hormones get the better of him. You and I have crossed paths only once since that time. Do you need me to remind you of what happened then?’
She shook her head wildly but he ignored her.
‘You flaunted your semi-nude body at me and I nearly ended up screwing your brains out. Tell me—do either of those scenarios qualify us as childhood friends?’
Her smile disappeared, along with a healthy dose of colour. Her fingers curled around each other, her knuckles white against her green dress.
‘You’re despicable!’
He felt no regret. From the success of the DBH campaign so far, and the meteoric rise in sales of the product, Bastien knew the power of Ana Duval’s erotic thrall. Women wanted to be her. Men wanted to be with her. But she held no sway over him.
For her own sake he needed to make sure she knew that too.
‘Will your flatmate be at home by now?’
Her head snapped up, her gaze hurt and wary. He looked away.
‘She should be. Why?’
‘You need a change of clothes. You’ll be attending a board meeting with me in a little under sixteen hours. I recommend you do not do so dressed as you are right now.’
‘What good will my presence there serve, exactly?’
He shrugged. ‘By morning we’ll know the extent of the damage to the company. Maybe your presence at the board meeting will be a precursor to your being fired and sued for damages.’
That hurt look returned and she bit her lip again.
Tearing his gaze away from her mouth was even harder, and the effort sent another dart of unease through him. Silence reigned in the car—one he didn’t feel like breaking. His phone buzzed. He ignored it, curiously unwilling to hear any more news, good or bad, about what was happening outside the sphere he and Ana were in.
He watched her fumble through her bag, retrieve and activate her own phone.
How delicate her wrists were: frail, almost fragile, as if they were to be handled with the utmost care.
Bastien reeled back his wayward thoughts in time to hear her shallow gasp. Her colour receded even more as she listened to her messages.
Henry had already informed him after the meeting that the scandal involving the star of the DBH campaign had gone viral. Even the top international news stations were now leading with the story. Her voicemail would be crammed with every sleazy journalist wanting a piece of her.
Her clear distress grated.
‘I suggest you turn off your phone and keep it turned off for the near future.’
For once she didn’t protest. He watched one shaky finger press the power button. Then she went back to worrying at her lip with her perfect teeth.
Looking out of the window, she said woodenly, ‘Will Simone get here before our flight’s called?’
‘We take off when I’m ready. Besides, your friend’s not bringing your stuff here. I’ve sent someone to pick up the things you need. I didn’t want her to be inconvenienced when my people turned up.’
Her head whipped round, a flash of anger widening her eyes. ‘What if she hadn’t been in?’
‘Your landlady lives in the building. I’m sure she’d have accommodated my request.’
‘You’d have gone through my possessions without my permission?’ Incredulity rang through her husky voice.
‘You owe my company a great deal of money, Miss Duval. I’d rethink any sense of misplaced anger, if I were you.’
‘Well, you’re not me! You might feel all high and mighty in that Heidecker tower in which you live, but normal people tend to treat each other with more respect.’
He glanced pointedly at the door. ‘You’re welcome to hop out again if you feel hard done by. But don’t think for one minute that I won’t come after you with everything I’ve got to make sure you honour our agreement.’
What little colour remained leached from her face. He watched her skim a shaky hand through her hair. The silky strands slid slowly through her fingers as she subsided into her seat. For several seconds she didn’t speak, but her lips moved, formulating words with which to annihilate him. When she raised her eyes to his the chocolate-brown depths had darkened to almost black with the fierce fire burning within.
Raw, unfamiliar sensation gripped him, leaving a strong current rumbling along his nerves. The strange emotion made him feel disgruntled, made him shift in his seat. His eyes fell lower to her plump lips as they parted.
‘I hate you.’
