Читать книгу The Best Of The Year - Modern Romance - Мишель Смарт, Annie West - Страница 23
ОглавлениеANA TOOK ONE last look at her image and brushed a hand over her dark grey suit jacket. Its precise, severe style suited her purpose. With her hair caught and pinned up out of the way, she projected a professional image—one that was far removed from the image the paparazzi had plastered all over the internet in the last twenty four hours.
Although the cost of the Armani skirt suit, chosen hurriedly from the hotel’s boutique last night, would put a serious dent in her finances, she’d had no choice. Facing Bastien’s board members wearing anything from her suitcase wasn’t an option.
A knock signalled the arrival of breakfast, although eating was the last thing she felt like doing.
Bastien’s taut silence after that incident in the car last night gave her little hope that he’d be any different today. He’d closed down, shutting her out as effectively as he’d done at fifteen.
On arrival at their luxurious hotel he’d left her outside her suite with an order to be ready at nine. But sleep had been elusive, and her long, restless night had been spent reliving that kiss and how she would survive the next three weeks in the emotional cauldron that was being around Bastien.
Another knock fractured her thoughts. She let the waiter in and he wheeled a trolley underneath the window facing a picturesque view of Lake Geneva.
In the early-morning light the Alps and Mont Blanc rose majestically in the distance, the rolling range curving almost protectively around the city. She’d travelled to other parts of Switzerland on photo shoots but had never visited its best-known city.
Ana sat down at the table...forced herself to eat two pieces of buttered toast and a mouthful of scrambled eggs. It was just as she lifted the glass of orange juice that she spotted it.
A newspaper was tucked underneath the napkin, and on its front page was her picture. Only it wasn’t just her picture. The photo showed her in Bastien’s arms, emerging from the court yesterday. Showed the way she’d clung to him like a limpet, her eyes closed and her face buried in his neck as if...as if he was her protector.
God...
But that wasn’t the worst of it. It was the look on Bastien’s face that made her hands shake as she unfolded the paper.
What she could understand of the caption froze her blood.
Heidecker’s New Love. Is He the Cure for this Drug-Addicted Supermodel?
Skimming the article, she desperately tried to recognise enough words to understand what the article said. Her horror grew as she spotted Simone’s name repeatedly. Her breakfast surged upwards, making a bid for freedom.
She barely made it to the bathroom before she emptied her stomach’s contents. Trembling from head to toe, she wrenched at the tap, rinsed her mouth, then clutched the sink, eyes squeezed shut, struggling to breathe.
This was the absolute last thing she needed...
Standing there, propped against the sink, she didn’t realise the pounding wasn’t just in her head until she heard her name called out.
‘Open the door, Miss Duval.’
Heart leaping into her throat, she prised her fingers from the cold porcelain and approached the bathroom door.
She cracked it open. ‘What do you want, Bastien?’
He surged into the room. ‘What took you so long?’
A few smart answers rose to her lips but she smothered the more hysterical ones when she caught his frown. ‘What...?’
‘You look pale. Are you all right?’ He laid a hand against her forehead.
For several seconds she couldn’t speak. ‘I’m fine,’ she finally managed. ‘How did you get in here?’
‘This hotel belongs to me.’ He dropped his hand. ‘HH Geneva is one of several hotels owned by my bank.’
The HH Group—Heidecker Hotels—was renowned for its understated opulence, was yet another feather in the Heidecker cap...a fact she’d missed with her weariness last night.
‘It doesn’t explain what you’re doing in my room,’ she replied, cringing as she wondered whether he’d heard her retching.
‘I told you to be ready at nine—that was five minutes ago. When you didn’t answer your door I let myself in. Don’t fret. If I’d hoped to catch you naked I’d have turned up an hour ago as you took your shower.’
‘Careful, there, Bastien, or I’ll add Peeping Tom to your list of unsavoury characteristics.’
That earned her a mocking look as he returned to the sitting room and crossed to the open suite door. He didn’t slam it. Yet the decisive snick of the lock and a glimpse of what he held in his fist sent a shaft of pure, unadulterated dread through her.
He unfurled another newspaper. The front-page picture was the same as on hers, but the language was different.
‘Tell me what you know about this,’ he invited softly.
‘If you’re asking if I’ve seen the paper, yes—I have.’ Her eyes inadvertently slid to the breakfast table. Her heart sank as he followed her movement.
The temperature in the room dropped another degree. ‘Of course you have. Did you salivate over it before or after you had your breakfast?’
‘Excuse me?’
He ignored her outrage. ‘How much are the tabloids paying you for this?’
‘What? You’re insane if you think I had something to do with this!’
‘So you deny you had anything to do with this rubbish?’
‘Absolutely I do,’ she stressed.
‘Then tell me what you were hatching with your flatmate on the tarmac yesterday.’
Ana’s mouth dropped open. No words emerged and she knew her guilt was stamped on her forehead. Belatedly, she tried damage limitation. ‘Seriously, it was nothing like that—’
‘Do you take me for a fool?’
‘Only if you believe everything you read in the paper!’ The volatility of her words hit home the moment they left her lips. She surged on, regardless. ‘Bastien, think about this. What could I possibly have to gain by pulling this stunt?’
He crumpled the paper and tossed it down on the nearby coffee table. It missed and landed on the floor.
Slowly, with the precision of an Alpine wolf on a blood trail, he stalked her until he stood so close she could see the pulse leaping in his temple, smell the mixture of fury and his unique masculine scent.
Nothing promised an upside to this situation.
‘Right now you need someone to fight your corner. Who better than the CEO of the company that’s about to turf you out on your ass?’
She stared back, unable to look away from the hypnotic intensity of his eyes. ‘So you’ve decided, then?’
‘After this stunt I’d be a fool not to cut you loose,’ he replied.
‘Believe what you will. I had nothing to do with this article, whatever it says.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘You’re now pretending you don’t know its contents?’
Realising what she’d almost let slip, she pursed her lips. Besides her father, who’d been horrified when she’d finally confessed her secret and immediately fought to make things right, and her mother, who’d been the cause of it, no one else knew.
‘I stopped reading any stuff written about me a long time ago.’ The lie made her cringe, but it was way better than the shameful truth. ‘Maybe if you tell me which part so concerns you I can address it.’
Bastien’s brows slowly lifted, incredulity darkening his eyes to gunmetal. ‘Which part so concerns me? Let’s see—how about the part that suggests we’ve been lovers for the best part of six months? No, actually, that doesn’t concern me too much—although it suggests I don’t mind sharing my woman with other men. Or how about the part where it states that I let you use my personal yacht for drug-fuelled parties? Or maybe the bit that says I came to your rescue yesterday because you could be carrying my child? And the soundbites in which your flatmate—Simone?—congratulates us on our impending nuptials were a genius touch. I must commend you on that. It ties everything up in a nice little bow, non?’
Shock careened through her as the oxygen left her lungs. Some of these paparazzi were in a class of their own, but even Ana couldn’t believe they’d come up with such a preposterous story overnight.
She looked up, ready to defend herself, and saw his gaze fixed on the picture. ‘I had no hand in any part of that story. But that’s not what’s bothering you, is it?’
‘Excusez moi?’
‘The picture bothers you way more than the article.’
Bastien’s gaze iced over. ‘You’re in danger of stepping way over the line.’
‘Why? Because this picture shows you looking at me as if you care? As if I get to you where no one else can?’
To the untrained eye he looked as most people saw him—a cool, suave businessman who was in complete control of his world. Sure, the tight jaw and the broad shoulders held an edge of danger that anyone would be a fool to ignore. But the concern, the touch of gentleness in his eyes, that same look she’d seen a long time ago when she was eight, was clear for her to see.
‘You have a very active imagination, cherie,’ he breathed.
‘And you are not the icy, emotionless man you want the world to think you are. What are you so afraid of, Bastien?’
He didn’t answer, merely speared her with his silver gaze as if trying to decipher whether she’d lost her mind. Hell, she might well have. She was tugging the tail of a dangerous beast.
‘Bastien...’
‘Let me be clear. Whatever you think you see in this photo does not exist. If you’re scheming, making little plans in that beautiful head of yours, kill them dead—understand?’
Self-preservation kicked in, along with a healthy dose of anger.
Courage, Ana. ‘I won’t allow you to bully me, Bastien.’
He merely shrugged and strode for the door. ‘Rest assured, any punishment I exact will be willingly accepted.’
‘Dream on!’
He merely smiled. ‘We’ll see.’
She forced herself to take her time. She straightened her jacket, picked up the paper from the floor and placed it on the coffee table. Going to her bedroom, she scooped up her purse and the coat Mathilde had lent her. Shrugging it on, she fastened the belt and returned to the living room.
Bastien hadn’t moved an inch. She slid past him and tried to ignore him as they rode the lift down.
The grand hotel’s opulent foyer barely sparked her interest. It took every ounce of her willpower just to put one foot in front of the other, to follow Bastien’s lengthy stride through the revolving doors to the car waiting at the kerb.
As they travelled along the cold streets of Geneva she struggled to come up with something to say, but appealing to Bastien’s better nature would be a waste of time.
A quick glance showed he’d become engrossed in a stack of papers, his pen flying as he drew harsh lines through the document.
‘Will you need me to speak to the board?’
The newspaper article had worsened her position. Firing her had become a real option now.
Bastien’s lips firmed. ‘The damage is already done.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘It means that now you get to reap the results of your little experiment.’
Her trepidation mounted as they drew up outside a large, elegant stone building. They’d left the gleaming, modern glass edifices behind a short while ago and entered the Old Town.
A liveried doorman complete with white gloves glided to the door and held it open. As she stepped into Bastien’s lair Ana was aware that she could be leaving here with the course of her life very much altered.
Plush cream carpeting muffled their footsteps. Impressive paintings graced the walls—discreet, yet sure to make an impact on the super-rich clients lucky enough to be invited to invest with the Heidecker Corporation.
From behind a semi-circular reception desk a superbly coiffed receptionist greeted Bastien. ‘The board members are assembled in the usual room, Monsieur Heidecker.’
He nodded. ‘Merci, Chloe. Can you tell Tatiana to meet us outside the boardroom?’
‘Of course.’ Her glance at Ana held unabashed curiosity as she picked up the phone to do Bastien’s bidding.
He stepped into the lift and pressed a button. ‘Tatiana’s my PA. She’ll make you comfortable while I’m in the meeting.’
Irritation surged through her. ‘So I’m expected to just cool my heels? I could’ve stayed at the hotel.’
‘We’ve already had this conversation. Where I go, you go,’ he reiterated arrogantly.
‘You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?’ she snapped.
‘Why the sudden eagerness to present yourself to the board? I seem to recall you jumping out of a moving car to avoid coming here.’ His eyes skimmed over her. ‘You’ve even gone to great lengths to improve your appearance. Why is that, Miss Duval?’
‘Do you always jump to the worst possible conclusions about everyone, or am I just flavour of the month?’
His brows merely lifted a fraction.
‘Of course it wouldn’t have occurred to you that I want this over and done with so I can get on with my life?’
A cynical smile twisted his sensual lips. ‘Missing the thrill of the limelight?’
‘No—just eager to get away from you and your warped ideas about me. I can’t help but feel the more time I spend in your presence, the more I risk contamination from your twisted impressions of the human race.’
If she’d thought his gaze back in her hotel room could freeze water, his expression now sent a jagged bolt of apprehension through her. He lunged for her, strong hands hauling her up until only her toes touched the floor of the lift.
‘A word of advice, cherie. Learn to pick your battles wisely.’
Afterwards Ana reckoned she must have gone slightly insane. Just for a few seconds. Because even she couldn’t understand her compulsive need to goad him further.
‘Or what, Bastien? You’ll punish me for getting under your skin again?’ The words slipped out before she could stop them.
With lightning speed he had her caged against the back wall of the lift. His mouth crushed hers, his tongue forcing its way into her mouth before she could draw half a breath. Molten heat scalded her from head to toe, sending a rush of sensation so heady she groaned with the sheer pleasure of it.
The sound seemed to galvanise Bastien. His hands bracketed her, his powerful body imprisoning her. From chest to knee, every muscle of his hard, streamlined physique was imprinted against hers as he devoured her lips.
When his tongue slid boldly against hers liquid fire shot through her bloodstream to pool low in her pelvis. The sensation was alien, but so exquisitely delightful that Ana whimpered. Again, the sound triggered something in Bastien.
He surged closer, rolled his hips until the unmistakable force of his arousal lay hot and heavy against her belly. A wave of longing stole over her, sparking a yearning to reach for him, to touch him in a way that would appease the stark hunger.
His strong jaw abraded her palm. Glorying in the new and exciting textures, she traced her fingers to his nape, slid her fingers through his hair once more. She didn’t know she’d applied pressure until the kiss deepened, their tongues tangling in a frenzied dance that culminated in desperate gasps for air.
Bastien stared down at her, shock darkening his eyes. ‘Mon Dieu, how the hell do you do this to me?’ he demanded thickly under his breath.
The guttural sound of his voice shivered along her nerves, tightening the pressure in her womb and turning her nipples into hard, painful buds of need. Need that demanded satisfaction. Now.
This time she rose to her toes of her own accord, her need to experience the power of his kiss paramount. Bastien reached for her—
‘Excusez moi, monsieur?’
The voice was cheeky, almost amused.
Bastien’s harsh exhalation fanned her heated cheek. He stepped back, but didn’t release her. Over one broad shoulder Ana saw a statuesque redhead in the open doorway of the lift, peering at them over boxy designer glasses.
‘Tatiana, give me a minute,’ he rasped.
‘Mais oui, Bastien. But I suggest that you don’t keep the board waiting any longer.’
Her heavily accented response held even more amusement. With a twirl that wouldn’t have been misplaced on a catwalk, she disappeared down the hall, leaving behind a cloud of expensive perfume.
He dropped his hands. The loss of his touch sent a cold shiver through Ana, but not quite enough to restore clarity. Mind fuzzy, she remained where she was, shaky, eternally grateful for the support of the wall.
And totally convinced she’d lost her mind.
How could she have kissed him like that? Have lost herself so spectacularly? And so publicly! Shame drenched her, finally erasing the last dregs of her rioting emotions.
But a niggling voice remained.
What if they hadn’t been interrupted? Would she have lifted her leg and curved it over his hip the way he’d urged her to do on his boat? Would she have encouraged him to cup her aching breasts because Bastien touching them ranked among the most beautiful feelings in the whole world?
Dear God, no!
‘You promised me this would never happen again.’ Her voice held all the husky undercurrents of the emotions shimmering beneath her skin and none of the accusation she’d intended to heap on his head.
His eyes mocked her. ‘No, I never made such a promise. And you decided not to wait for that gold-embossed invitation after all. You issued one of your own. I merely accepted,’ he rasped.
‘I did no such thing. You’re truly despic—’
‘Much as I’d like to stand here trading insults with you all day, I have a meeting to attend.’ Grasping her elbow, he stepped out of the lift, took a short hallway until they reached a set of double doors. ‘Through there is my office. Tatiana will make you comfortable and let you know if you’re needed.’
Without a backward glance, he walked away.
Ana didn’t know whether to be relieved or angry. Taking a deep breath, she opted for relief. Anger led to a loss of control. Loss of control led to hot, torrid exchanges of intense kisses that left her weak and needy.
Yes, relief was a much better emotion to hang on to.
She entered the office, where Tatiana sat behind an exquisite antique desk. Calling on her much-practised poise, Ana approached.
‘I don’t think we were introduced properly. I’m Ana Duval.’
‘Tatiana—Bastien’s slave,’ the other woman joked. She indicated another set of doors. ‘There’s a sitting room through there. I’ll bring coffee in a moment. But perhaps you’d prefer to use the facilities to...to freshen up a little?’
Ana followed Tatiana’s gaze. Her coat had come undone, along with several buttons of her top, and she could feel her carefully pinned-up hair sliding loosely against her nape.
With as much dignity as she could muster she smiled. ‘Thank you.’
In the privacy of the bathroom she let out a shaky breath and gazed with horror at her dishevelled state. The cream silk top she’d tucked into her skirt had come untucked, its material crumpled where Bastien’s body had crushed hers. Luckily her suit had sustained less damage. Fingers trembling, Ana tried to repair her attire as best she could.
Renewed shame seared her. Her lips were red and swollen, her lip-gloss long gone. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes reflected an untamed look that made her gaze slither away in disgust.
Once again she’d let herself down. And this time she couldn’t pretend that she hadn’t wanted it to happen. Her fingers tingled from where she’d willingly grasped Bastien’s nape and invited a deeper kiss.
It could never happen again.
She splashed cold water over her hands. She’d survived childhood with a mother who’d been bent on cruelty and humiliation at every stage. She’d grown up without the fundamental learning tools every child was entitled to and had still made a success of her life.
Surely she could overcome the raw temptation that was Bastien Heidecker?
It would never happen again.
Satisfied with that affirmation, she tugged her jacket back into place and returned to the sitting room with her head held high.
* * *
Bastien answered another inconsequential question, his frustration mounting as the subject of the DBH campaign was once again avoided by his chairman, Claude Delon. He curbed his need to glance to the left side of the room, where Ana had taken a seat five minutes ago. His fellow board members weren’t as circumspect in hiding their interest.
He couldn’t blame Delon for his volcanic mood. No, it was what had happened in the lift that roiled in his blood. His jaw tightened. He’d lost control. Again. He’d allowed her to goad him until the only sensible response had been to shut her up in the most ruthless way possible.
But even as the glaring error of that course of action taunted him he admitted how good shutting her up had felt. Her lips, soft but firm, had fought against his attempts to dominate, her tongue duelling with his in a curious mixture of defiance and innocence before yielding, kissing him back in a most pleasurable way.
How her soft moans had echoed like thunder through his veins... And the supple imprint of her body, the bones of her hips cradling his pelvis as if made to fit...
He slammed his open palm on the table, cheap satisfaction coursing through him when seven pairs of eyes jerked from Ana to him.
‘We voted on the acquisition of the copper mine two days ago, so why are we discussing it again? In fact everything on the agenda has been covered except one item. Some of you might have nothing better than a round of golf planned after this meeting, but I have work to do.’
‘You sound a little...stressed, Bastien. Perhaps the events of the last few days have taken their toll?’ Delon suggested.
‘The state of my health isn’t up for discussion. Are you ready to vote?’
The older man spread his hands wide. ‘We discussed this while we were waiting for you to arrive. After reading this morning’s papers, we don’t see the need to discuss this any further.’
He sensed Ana tense but refused to look her way. Since she’d walked in, chin high, her stride confident and sexy, she’d commanded too much attention. Witnessing the keen interest in more than one board member’s expression, he’d felt something dark, dangerous and agonisingly twisted course through his veins.
Her clothes, although respectable—demure, even, compared to her previous attire—didn’t mask Ana’s raw sexuality.
Bastien’s fist clenched against the throbbing in his groin and he curbed the impulse to snarl at the wily old chairman. One error of judgement was enough for one day.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘It means that ultimately the story and the photo, while we wouldn’t normally like to draw that sort of attention to the company, was a stroke of genius. I assume that you’ve seen the surge in share price this morning?’
Bastien’s mood blackened even more. ‘Of course I have—but I find it preposterous that you would attribute the surge to a picture in the tabloids.’
‘You underestimate the power of the media,’ Claude replied, his eyes flicking to Ana. ‘Perhaps as much as you underestimate the power of a liaison romantique.’
Ana made a strange little sound—a cross between a snort and a cough. He finally looked her way, slicing her a look that straightened the amused curve of her mouth. When she lifted a brow in silent challenge he ground his teeth, cursing the memory of her seductive warmth pressed against him, the subtle thrust of her tongue against his, which was pulling him from reality.
What was wrong with him?
He knew how lethal she was to his control and yet he couldn’t stop his body from reacting like a randy sailor on shore leave.
Turning his head, he concentrated on the old man. ‘You must be going blind, Claude. There is no such—’
Ana spoke up. ‘Bastien, I think what your chairman is trying to say is don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.’
A smattering of amusement rolled around the conference room.
‘If the picture is helping the DBH range to thrive, despite the hit it took yesterday, surely that can’t be a bad thing?’ she went on.
‘Précisément. Women across the globe are reading the newspaper this morning, sighing over the picture and wishing they were in Mademoiselle Duval’s shoes. That’s already translating to a surge in profits. If you ask me, your little courthouse adventure was quite ingenious. Perhaps we should make Ana an honorary member of the board.’
Bastien’s gaze slid back to her and he saw a wide smile spread across her face. Every male breath in the room had caught at the incredible sight.
His teeth ground harder. ‘Perhaps you’re forgetting the small matter of your trial?’
Her smile dimmed and her throat moved in a delicate swallow. Her eyes blazed as they locked on his, a determined fire lighting their depths. ‘I’m quite confident I’ll be proved innocent by the time the trial rolls around.’
‘Don’t make promises you may not be able to keep, Miss Duval.’
‘I’m seriously committed to finding out the truth behind what happened and to making your campaign a success. If I fail you can do with me what you will,’ she replied, a tinge of anger in her voice.
His gaze dropped to the soft pout of her mouth and another rush of heat speared through him. For a single moment he hated himself for wanting her to fail just so he could bend her to his will, take what she’d unwittingly offered.
But then the thought of Ana behind bars, locked away from the world, slid through his mind. Something tightened in his chest, growing stronger as a memory long buried surfaced out of nowhere. It pierced so deep his breath faltered.
Ana—eight years old, running down the steps at Verbier to show him something. She’d always been doing that...plucking random things from the house or the garden to show him, unwilling to accept that he just wanted to be left alone.
Alone to deal with his father’s betrayal; with his mother’s abandonment. Alone to grieve the loss of the perfect family unit he’d taken for granted.
Slowly Bastien glanced around the room. He’d forgotten he had an audience. The same way he’d forgotten where he was when he’d kissed her earlier.
Jaw tightening, he rose. ‘This meeting is over,’ he said into the curious silence.
Chairs screeched on wooden floors one by one and the room emptied.
Then he took a deep sustaining breath and turned to her. ‘What the hell did you think you were playing at?’
‘What?’
‘You were supposed to remain silent until you were called on to speak.’
One elegant brow rose. ‘You mean like some sort of marionette, ready to perform on command?’
Heat rose up his neck. ‘I didn’t say that.’
‘Then what exactly did you mean?’
He shoved a hand through his hair, words completely failing him. Striding to the drinks tray set in a corner of the conference room, he splashed vintage cognac into a crystal tumbler and sent the fiery liquid coursing down his throat.
It was only the afternoon...just...but he didn’t care.
‘Is that a celebratory drink or a Damn, Ana isn’t getting fired drink?’
Bastien whirled. She stood behind him, her arms folded across her slender midriff, the picture of composure. Or was it quiet triumph?
For the first time he’d let his emotions get the better of him in the boardroom. He wanted to see her ruffled, shaken, off balance. The way he was feeling.
‘It’s a Where the hell has my sanity gone? drink. You want one?’
‘No, thanks. I know where mine is.’
‘Do you? Then bravo.’ He raised his glass to her.
She frowned and drew closer, those long, shapely legs capturing his attention as she moved, bringing a seductive scent that instantly surrounded him. A few feet away she stopped, doe eyes wide and alluring.
‘What’s really going on, Bastien?’
‘Why do you insist on using my name when I’ve made it clear it’s off-limits?’
She flinched and the band around his chest tightened.
Hell...
‘Because, despite those horrid vibes you give out, I still want to remain civil.’ An intimate smile curved her perfect, pouting lips.
Lust rose to mingle with anger. Bastien wanted to reach for her, demonstrate his ire in unmistakably graphic terms. Instead he reached behind him, grabbed the bottle, poured another measure of cognac and raised the glass to his lips.
‘I don’t need your civility, Miss Duval. But if you carry on like this I may well take you up on the invitation you keep issuing. Maybe that will get you from underneath my skin once and for all.’
