Главная страница | Современные любовные романы | Innocent in His Diamonds

Innocent in His Diamonds
Maya Blake


As pure as iceAna Duval knows that CEO Bastien Heidecker holds her family responsible for the destruction of his own. So when he’s forced to rescue her from a high-profile scandal, she doesn’t know what’s worse – his icy condemnation or her burning need for his kiss…Bastien witnessed his father’s ruin because of unchecked desire and despises such weakness – so it galls him to want Ana, the stunning face of his diamond business. Famed for his cool control, Bastien’s plan is to have the model, then discard her. But he’s shocked to discover that Ana is innocent in every sense of the word…Praise for Maya BlakeInnocent in His Diamonds 4* RT Book ReviewBlake’s fabricated crime is the perfect catalyst to bring this couple together. The Swiss-scapes are incredibly luxurious and the co-stars are spot on. But it is the battle the heroine fights — no spoilers here —that wins the day.The Ultimate Playboy 4.5* RT Book ReviewBlake’s romance between this implausible couple is mystifying and exciting. The chemistry between her vengeful, überplayboy hero and her innocent, mistrusting heroine is palpable. The ultra-lavishness fits, the lovemaking is fiery and the honest dialogue between the couple is tangible.What the Greek Can’t Resist 4.5* TOP PICK RT Book ReviewBlake’s embattled couple is the perfect yin and yang. It’s a sensual feast watching them fall in love in spite of themselves.









‘Save the act, Miss Duval. Pretending outrage while your eyes devour me wears thin after a while,’ he sliced at her.


‘God, you are full of yourself, aren’t you? The outrage is real. I’ve never met anyone more infuriating than you. And there’s nothing remotely sexual about that!’

There—that should set him straight, she congratulated herself, so pleased with her comeback that she didn’t acknowledge the charged silence until his hand landed on her shoulder.

‘Then this shouldn’t affect you too much.’

‘Wha—?’

His lips slanted over hers before she could get the word out.

Ana’s world imploded. Every coherent thought, every ounce of outrage fled as she experienced Bastien, up close and devastatingly personal.

His kiss started out as a ruthless lesson. Very quickly it became something else. Something that made her stomach muscles quiver.

His lips, hot and urgent, seared her, branded her, evoking such electrifying reactions that she could do nothing but cling on, crave more, open herself to the pleasure drenching her.

When his tongue stroked hers molten heat seared through her, singeing every nerve-ending, every drop of her blood, until she burned, engulfed in sensual flames.

Bastien had called her reaction to him an act. Except it wasn’t an act. The world might think Ana Duval represented sex on legs, but the truth would shock them even more. The fact was that she was as far removed from being sexually promiscuous as was humanly possible.


MAYA BLAKE’s hopes of becoming a writer were born when she picked up her first Mills & Boon


aged thirteen. Little did she know her dream would come true! Does she still pinch herself every now and then to make sure it’s not a dream? Yes, she does!

Feel free to pinch her too, via Twitter, Facebook or Goodreads!


Innocent

in His Diamonds

Maya Blake






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Contents

Cover (#uc280c063-f745-570b-b9c1-9d77ecca3e7a)

Excerpt (#u660b8493-de6c-5a55-bc17-b223dba16914)

About the Author (#u82ac7189-2893-5f5e-a164-6cca90041e12)

Title Page (#u12d2f244-f24d-5b7b-a07a-250117c5de49)

CHAPTER ONE (#u6b0f853b-7b9b-5a3e-b793-81ea1ececfce)

CHAPTER TWO (#u7bfd77cf-be18-579e-8212-b6e7c7b0de47)

CHAPTER THREE (#u0cd42409-6137-56c4-9960-28ebfd4006bd)

CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_36744669-2147-57a6-b0b3-8a6e5cc32659)

BASTIEN HEIDECKER THREW OPEN the doors of his boardroom and strode in. For several seconds none of his board members noticed his presence, absorbed as they were by the catastrophe playing out in high definition on the big screen.

Henry Lang, his CFO, spotted him first.

‘Mr Heidecker! We were just catching up on the latest development...’ The short dark-haired man grabbed the remote, pressed a button and dashed to his seat.

Bastien watched the rest of his staff scramble into their places, his already simmering anger mounting as his gaze shifted to the screen.

Her frozen image stared back at him. Despite the storm brewing beneath the surface of his calm, Bastien couldn’t fault his team for being enthralled by the woman at the centre of the chaos engulfing his company.

Ana Duval was stunning perfection. The half-Colombian, half-English supermodel’s beauty combined innocence and defiance with a hint of cultivated vulnerability that had been skilfully honed into the perfect commodity. That combination had ensnared every red-blooded male in the western hemisphere and ensured her a permanent place in the limelight by the time she’d turned twenty-one.

Hell, it had nearly ensnared him...

Even at fifteen Bastien had known the skinny, doe-eyed, eight-year-old he’d had the misfortune of spending that unforgettable winter with was nothing but trouble. What he hadn’t foreseen was that sixteen years later Ana Duval would bring bedlam right to his doorstep.

His gaze skimmed the silky fall of her straight black hair, the slim, delicate structure of her lissom figure and the legs that had once been described by a fawning companion as forty-two inches of creamy paradise.

Against his will his body stirred in remembrance of having that body close to his only two months ago, of soft, meaningless words whispered in his ear.

He smashed away the memory, took his seat at the head of the table and focused on his second-in-command. ‘What’s the latest on the share price?’

He received a wary grimace. ‘Less than half of what it was yesterday and still falling.’

‘What are the lawyers saying? Can they make this go away?’ he shot back.

Henry glanced down at his watch. ‘There’s a court hearing at two o’clock this afternoon. They’re hoping since this is Miss Duval’s first offence the judge will be lenient—’

‘Alleged offence.’ Bastien ground out the words.

Henry frowned. ‘Excuse me, sir?’

‘Until there’s clear evidence to prove otherwise, this is merely an alleged offence, non?’

Other board members fidgeted. Henry’s gaze darted to the screen. ‘But she was caught on camera with the drugs in the VIP area of the nightclub—’

Bastien’s lips compressed. He’d already seen the footage some enterprising fool had flooded the internet with on the way from Heathrow. So had the Geneva board members of Heidecker Bank—the largest, most elite private bank in the world and the mother company of Diamonds by Heidecker. Their reaction had reflected his own outrage. He needed to nip this problem in the bud.

He had the trust of most of the board, but the stigma never went away.

Like father, like son.

He was nothing like his father. He’d made it his mission since that dismal summer to prove to himself that sharing DNA didn’t meant sharing deplorable traits. He’d succeeded for twelve years—until one small misstep two months ago had unearthed a doubt he hadn’t been able to erase since. He’d given in to seductive words and an alluring body and he’d almost lost his focus...

He raised his gaze, stared at the culprit and struggled to keep his cool.

The likelihood of Ana’s innocence was less than marginal, but he kept this to himself.

‘Despite what the alleged evidence says, Ana Duval is the face of the DBH range. Our diamonds are worn by the wives of heads of state and A-list celebrities all over the world. Until she’s categorically proved guilty her offences remain strictly alleged, and we’ll do everything to promote that innocence—is that understood?’

Bastien waited until he received nods of agreement before rising.

The sense of déjà vu was overwhelming. The deep, unshakable notion of history repeating itself would have been laughable had he given it any thinking room. But for the sake of his company and his reputation he couldn’t dwell on the past.

Ana Duval might look like a younger version of the woman who’d ripped his family apart, but he was not as weak as his father.

He had to stand by his employee. Distancing himself would only send a message that the allegations had teeth and sound a death knell to the Diamonds by Heidecker ad campaign.

‘How are we handling the media?’ he asked his senior press officer.

‘We’re taking the “no comment” route.’

He nodded. ‘Maintain that for now. But draft a statement denying the allegations and send me a copy.’ He turned to Henry. ‘Send feelers out to our competitors. We have to be ready to sell the company if things keep heading south.’

He was first and foremost a businessman. Before this scandal the signature DBH brand of diamonds had held its own and even excelled in a saturated market. But he knew first-hand how scandal could rock even the safest, most solid foundation—destroy the strongest family.

‘Isn’t that a bit precipitate?’ Henry asked hesitantly.

Across the gleaming surface of the conference table Ana Duval’s dangerously captivating face stared back at him.

‘Sometimes you have to cut out the threat of disease before it gets the chance to take hold and spread.’

* * *

Ana Duval rubbed her wrists. Memories of handcuffs closing over her flesh remained vivid and frightening more than twelve hours after the fact.

Even more terrifying was the judge’s ruling. The preliminary hearing had been alarmingly quick, and the female judge had shown zero sympathy so far.

Ana jumped to her feet. ‘Two hundred thousand pounds? I’m sorry, Your Honour, but that’s—’

‘Miss Duval! We’ll handle this,’ her lawyer said hurriedly as the judge paused and glared at her.

Ana fought not to cower. This whole thing was preposterous. Even if she sold everything remotely of worth in her life she would still fall hopelessly short. She sank back into her seat and rubbed her wrists again, certain that any minute now she’d be dragged back to that dank, soulless cell.

Beside her, the lawyers representing the Heidecker Corporation scrambled into a huddle. She let their voices wash over her and quickly calculated how much money she had in the bank. It didn’t take long.

God, she was going to jail. For using her inhaler. An inhaler that had mysteriously vanished, to be replaced in her purse by another one filled with heroin. The absurdity of her situation would have been comical if it hadn’t been so serious.

Watching her mother pop pill after pill at the slightest hint of unhappiness or adversity had instilled a hatred of substance abuse in Ana at a very early age. Only a very serious asthma attack a year ago had finally convinced Ana to carry her inhaler with her at all times.

Ironic that the very object that was supposed to save her life was what could now ruin it.

The lawyers finally stopped chattering. She opened her mouth to demand to know what was going on. And stopped.

The tingle invading her body was not unfamiliar. She hadn’t experienced it in a long time. In fact— Her heart began a discordant hammer as she recalled the last time she’d felt like this.

It had been on her second day of shooting the first phase of the Diamonds by Heidecker ads. Reclining on the sun-washed deck of a super-yacht in Cannes, bored out of her mind, she’d wondered how soon she could get away to call her father and congratulate him on his latest archaeological find.

The tingle had started much like this one—easing its way up her toes, engulfing her ankles, her calves, weakening her knees, singeing the secret place between her legs. The tingle had stopped there, establishing an almost possessive hold, before rising to engulf her whole body.

Then, as now, she’d wanted to run, to hide and cover herself—a ridiculous notion, considering her profession more often than not involved flaunting herself. Finally, just when she’d felt light-headed from the sensation, the photographer had wrapped the shoot.

Uncoiling from her pose, she’d turned her head.

And had encountered the silver gaze of Bastien Heidecker.

What had happened afterwards still had the power to stop her breath, to raise her heart-rate to dangerous levels no matter how much she tried to downplay the memory.

She turned her head now and encountered the same piercing gaze.

The breath shot from her lungs and that unnerving tingling engulfed her whole body, turning it from numb to fiery within seconds. Her every nerve-ending screeched in awareness of the man whose gaze pinned her to her chair, imprinting and condemning all in one go.

She watched in silence as, without breaking eye contact, he strode to the lawyers and spoke in deep, low tones.

The lead counsel nodded and cleared his throat and Bastien turned towards her, his towering six-foot-two frame and confident tread causing heads to turn in the courtroom. He took a seat directly behind her and with an autocratic jerk of his chin ordered her to face forward.

Heat crawled up her neck, stung her cheeks. With it came anger at herself for so blatantly staring. The judge’s gavel struck, making her jump. Glimpsing Bastien’s mocking smile, she pursed her lips and straightened in her chair.

For the hundredth time Ana wished she’d insisted on changing her clothes before arriving in court. But she’d wanted this hearing over and done with. She glanced down at the thigh-skimming silk dress—already on the risqué side when she’d worn it last night to please Simone, her flatmate, and now bordering on the downright indecent in daylight, especially in a courtroom—and cringed inwardly.

She was discreetly tugging it down when the noise level rose. The lawyers were smiling and shaking hands with Bastien. Grabbing her tiny purse, she stood up.

She glanced around her and noticed there were no guards ready to slap the handcuffs back on and cart her off to jail.

‘What’s going on?’ She’d aimed for brusque and businesslike but her words emerged thick and heavy, as if she were speaking in a foreign tongue. With a leaden hand she pushed back the heavy fall of hair from her face.

Bastien stepped forward, his grey eyes arctic-cold. ‘Found it hard to concentrate, did you?’

‘I beg your pardon?’

The breadth of his shoulders and the sheer force of his personality threatened to overwhelm her. Or it might be because she hadn’t eaten a thing since yesterday. Whatever it was, the light-headedness when she looked into his eyes made her senses swim.

Strong hands gripped her arms and he swore under his breath. She pushed him away but he held on, his irritated growl sizzling along her raw nerves.

‘You will be by the time I’m finished with you,’ he rasped into her ear.

She shivered. That deep voice had intruded on her dreams far too many times, mocked her weakness when it came to Bastien Heidecker. At eight she’d followed him around like a puppy-dog, despite the stay-away-from-me vibes he’d projected loud and clear. At twenty-four she’d almost succumbed to a far more dangerous temptation that continued to haunt her.

No way was she letting that happen again.

‘Let me go, Bastien.’ She wrenched herself from his arms—only to find herself recaptured a moment later when his hands closed over her shoulders.

‘I don’t know whether anything can get through that drug-fogged brain of yours, but I suggest you try and understand this. We’re going outside now. My car will be waiting, but so will the press. You will not say a single word. If you have the slightest inclination to do so, kill it. Do you understand?’

‘Get your hands off me! You’ve got this wrong. I’m not—’

His fingers bit into her shoulders, stifled her protest. A shiver coursed through her as he hauled her closer, his body so close his scent surrounded her.

‘If you want to get out of here in one piece the only word I want out of your mouth right now is yes.’

A rebellious fire lit her belly. For as long as she could remember she’d relied on no one but herself. She’d had no choice.

But this—lawyers, court, the threat of imprisonment—was totally alien to her. Besides, deep down she’d known that she’d have to answer to Bastien sooner or later. He was ultimately her boss. She only wished it had been much later.

Swallowing her words, she nodded. ‘Fine. But only until we get out of here.’

He pulled back, his unforgiving gaze raking down her body. His nostrils flared and she caught a spark of that dark and dangerous emotion that had arced between them on that sultry night two months ago.

With short, jerky movements he tugged off his jacket and settled it over her shoulders.

‘Do my clothes offend you?’ she taunted, despite being grateful for the cover.

‘You can flaunt your skin in your own time. Right now you’re operating on Heidecker time, and I’d rather not battle my way through frenzied paparazzi.’

He tucked the jacket closer around her and her gaze was drawn to the play of hard muscles under his expensive blue cotton shirt. Something tightened in her midriff and that damning tingle started once more. Hurriedly, she tore her gaze away.

She knew very well what her current predicament meant for Diamonds by Heidecker. The last thing she wanted to do was add to her list of sins by acknowledging her inexplicable feelings for its CEO.

He’d barely tolerated her when she was eight years old. That feeling had morphed into something else two months ago. It was something they’d never spoken of and both wished didn’t exist between them.

Except it did...and they’d almost given in to it.

He looked down at her and she saw the reluctant gleam in his eyes. It was gone a second later. Pursing his lips, he captured her wrist and tugged her to the door.

The bolder paparazzi had already breached the outer limits of the courthouse. Years of practice had taught her never to look directly into the camera lenses—because somehow, no matter how much she tried, they always saw too much, revealed too much. Unfortunately, still feeling extremely unsettled, Ana now failed at what she’d practised since the age of seventeen.

The first flash blinded her. Heels meant for walking a few feet from car to dance floor gave way beneath her. Stifling a curse, Bastien caught her and swung her into his arms.

The world erupted in a blinding series of flashes and excited cries. With no choice but to ride the storm, she clasped her arms around his shoulders and buried her face in his neck.

His scent suffused her. Clean, musky...arousing. The warmth of his skin attacked her senses, throwing her back to that night on his yacht, when she’d let her emotions get the better of her. Her pulse quickened, her insides clenched tight as deep, illicit pleasure stole over her.

Ignoring the gossip-hungry media closing in on them, Bastien aimed straight for the black limousine with tinted windows idling on the pavement. One of the three burly men paving the way for them held the door open and they slid inside.

For several heartbeats neither of them moved. The door thudded shut. Silence cloaked them. The muted sound of the running engine hummed through her but still Ana didn’t move. Her gaze skimmed the side of his face, unable to look away as she studied his arresting profile the way an artist studied his subject and committed it to memory.

The rocking of the car leaving the pavement caused her lips to graze the side of his neck.

Bastien exhaled sharply.

Her lids grew heavy as fierce sensation shot through her, radiating from her lips to spread over her body. The deep yearning to touch her mouth to his skin again became a surprisingly forceful rush of lust through her blood.

Abruptly Bastien leaned forward and deposited her on the seat opposite. With measured movements he secured her seatbelt before seeing to his own.

Ana felt the loss of his warmth as acutely as the loss of air in her lungs. She wanted to lift her fingers to her lips, press them against the tingling to keep it there for a moment longer, but Bastien had his laser gaze fixed on her, was watching her every move, waiting to pounce on any sign of weakness.

Fiercely she reminded herself that she wasn’t weak...that she’d withstood worse. Growing up with a mother like hers had equipped her with a backbone that could endure most things. So what if Bastien seemed to find his way under her armour with minimum effort? She wasn’t about to cower under his formidable personality.

Gathering her composure, she cleared her throat. ‘Thanks for helping me with the paparazzi—although I would’ve have handled it fine on my own.’

He sent her a stony look and settled back in his seat.

‘Explain to me exactly what happened last night,’ he commanded.

She raised her chin. ‘Why? I’m sure you’ve seen the footage on the internet by now. One of your lawyers seemed ecstatic that it was trending on social media.’

One dark blond eyebrow lifted. ‘That’s all you have to say about the situation?’

‘You won’t believe me if I tell you, so what’s the point?’ she snapped, remembering his accusation in the courtroom.

He shrugged. ‘We’ll call this your second chance. You have my undivided attention, so let’s hear it.’

‘You’ve already decided what the truth is, Bastien. You said as much earlier when you referred to my “drug-fogged brain”.’

‘So you do remember that?’ came his reply.

‘Your mind’s already made up, so why should I waste my breath?’

His smile mocked her. ‘Because I want to hear what happened from the horse’s mouth, so to speak.’

A spurt of anger speared through her. But alongside the anger came a small dart of hurt that he didn’t believe her.

She contemplated silence, not dignifying his suspicions with an answer. But just as quickly she dismissed it. He was her boss. Her DBH contract had another month to run before she was finally free to join her father in Colombia. And a major condition of her contract stipulated her propriety and the maintenance thereof. The charges against her had put the DBH ad campaign at serious risk.

Bastien’s presence in London—in court, in this car—made that fact painfully obvious.

He slowly straightened, leaned forward, and rested his hands on his knees without once taking his eyes off her. Ana knew she wouldn’t get away without offering some kind of explanation.

She went with the simple truth. ‘I suffer from asthma.’

He frowned, slate-grey eyes narrowing. ‘I don’t recall reading that in your personnel file.’

‘You mean when you read it once you knew I was the one your management had hired for the campaign and tried to get me fired?’

It was the reason he’d been in Cannes that day. The reason he’d sent everyone away, leaving them alone on the yacht. The reason she’d ended up nearly losing her self-respect...

He didn’t show an ounce of regret. ‘Yes.’

She ignored the sharper dart of pain. ‘Conditions that don’t hamper the execution of my job aren’t listed on my file, and asthma isn’t generally a life-threatening illness. But I have it and I have to manage it, so...’ She shrugged.

Lauren Styles, the owner of her agency, Visuals, and her own personal agent, had been aware of her condition and happy to keep it under wraps unless it hampered her job.

Lauren, once a model herself, was more of a mother to her than her own mother had ever been. Her loyalty and support were faultless. Which was another reason why she couldn’t afford to jeopardise the DBH campaign or clash with its CEO.

‘Go on.’

‘My flatmate, Simone, invited me to her birthday party last night. I don’t normally go to nightclubs because of the artificial smoke and recirculated air—I suffered a bad attack at a club last year. Halfway through the party I began to feel unwell.’

‘Why didn’t you just leave?’ he demanded.

‘I tried to. Simone begged me to stay.’

‘Even though she knew you were ill?’ Scepticism marred his tone.

‘She doesn’t know about my asthma.’

His brows lifted.

‘We’ve only been sharing a flat for two months. Anyway, I went into the cloakroom, splashed some water on my face, and used my inhaler when I got back to my table. I decided to stay for another half-hour. I went to the bar to get a bottle of water. When I returned to my seat the bouncers were waiting for me with the police. They showed me the security camera video, asked if it was me. I confirmed it was.’

Bastien pursed his lips.

‘I didn’t know then what it was all about, okay? They took me outside and asked to search my bag. They found the inhaler, charged me with possession of heroin and here we are.’

Silence cloaked the dark interior of the luxurious car. Outside, sunlight glinted off the buildings of Central London as they edged through the traffic on the Strand. Inside she was as cold as the January freeze they were experiencing. She pulled Bastien’s jacket closer around her. For a few stolen seconds she let the scent of his body suffuse her senses. Then she looked up and found him watching...waiting.

‘What? I’ve told you everything.’

He sat back, settled one ankle over his knee and drummed his fingers on the polished hand-stitched Italian leather. ‘Not quite.’

Her gaze collided with his. Those compelling eyes held her prisoner, sending that familiar hot jolt she experienced every time she looked into those silver depths.

‘I’m pretty sure I have.’

‘I haven’t heard you once deny drug possession.’

‘Of course I’ve denied it. I’ve just told you what really happened.’

‘You give me your version of events, but you haven’t denied being a drug-user.’

She gasped. ‘How dare you?’

He dropped his foot and surged forward until she could see every fleck in his eyes. ‘Oh, I dare very much, Ana. You see, the welfare of my company is dependent on how much I dare. And so far, thanks to you, it’s not doing so well.’

She straightened her spine. She’d done nothing wrong and she was damned if she would cower in fear. ‘Fine. I don’t use drugs. Never have—never will. Satisfied?’

His eyes narrowed. ‘Did you leave your bag unattended at any point during the evening?’ he fired back.

‘I took it with me when I went to the bar but I may not have had hold of it the whole time. Look, I told the police all this.’

‘But my interest in you is far more vested than theirs, so I think I deserve to hear your account, no?’ His voice was soft, deadly.

Ana shivered. He was talking about his company, but she couldn’t help but think back to that one very personal moment they’d shared on his boat. One that brought equal shame and excitement each time she relived it.

Brushing the feeling away, she glared at him. ‘I get that—and, trust me, I want an explanation myself. Don’t forget my reputation is on the line too.’

Not to mention the fact that she was in severe danger of being dropped from her father’s volunteer programme if this situation got out of hand. Professor Santiago Duval might be a world-renowned archaeologist, but he’d drummed into his only child his hatred of favouritism.

Her father had despised that parasitic trait in her mother—the wife who’d fed on his prestige for as long as it suited her, then dragged him through a hellish divorce sixteen years ago. The wife who’d then eyed a Swiss banker, seen her way to a better life and selfishly grabbed at it, uncaring that she was wrecking lives.

She glanced at Bastien, wondered if he ever thought of that horrid winter. Or had he squashed it all beneath that icy demeanour?

‘We are where we are. I assume you’ll want to fire me from the DBH campaign again?’ This time she didn’t have much of a leg to stand on. But she intended to find a way to fight her charges and plead with her father to join his programme. Somehow.

His impassive look remained. ‘As satisfying as that sounds, it’s not that simple. The first adverts have already aired in the US and Japan. TV and media companies have been paid up-front for all three phases. Replacing you with another model now would mean shooting the whole thing all over again.’

‘You want me to finish my contract?’ She’d expected a swift, surgical exit from the Heidecker Corporation. ‘But I thought...’ She stopped when the in-car phone rang.

He answered it, his eyes staying locked on her. The incisive gaze made her aware of every sensitive pore on her skin, every breath she tried to take.

The tingling that had started in the courtroom flared again, rising to dangerous proportions as he conducted a leisurely survey of her body.

And through it all his features remained impassive.

Whoever had called and whatever news was being delivered reflected neither pleasure nor dissatisfaction his face. Bastien Heidecker had crafted his enigma into a fine instrument.

Even at fifteen, in the face of all the turmoil ripping their respective families apart, he’d never let his feelings show.

Except that one time...

He ended the call, replaced the handset and turned towards the window. Sunlight lit his features, turning his dark wavy blond hair a burnished gold. His strong, aquiline nose stood out in sharp relief and his clean-shaven jaw jutted out with uncompromising authority. His lips parted on a shallow breath, drawing her gaze to the exquisite shape of his mouth.

Ana held her own breath, willing him to keep looking outside. She told herself it was because she didn’t want to resume their conversation, but she knew it was because she wanted to continue gazing at him—to take in the silky texture of his lashes as he lowered his eyelids and blinked...to remember what it had felt like to be kissed by those lips.

He turned suddenly and her heart flipped into her stomach.

‘That was my CFO. DBH shares continue to tumble.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘And the market closes in thirty-five minutes.’

Apprehension knotted her stomach. ‘What does that mean?’ she asked around a dry throat.

His gaze hardened to tempered steel. ‘It means you’d better start praying that the shares rally. Because if by close of play there’s no sign of recovery then you, if we include the money I just stumped up for your bail, are liable to me for upwards of five million pounds.’


CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_975593b4-847f-54da-95d5-7888c408c55d)

SHOCK 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.’


CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_1097c27b-c6fc-5a4f-9e03-3f890cbaa04f)

‘HATE IS A very powerful word, mi pequeña. Never use it lightly.’

Her father’s words echoed through Ana’s mind as she glared at Bastien. Not since the age of nine, when she’d sobbed to her father after her mother had burned all of Ana’s dolls in another bout of senseless cruelty had she felt that emotion so strongly.

But right now she hated Bastien Heidecker.

She hated the power he held over her—hated that he didn’t feel an ounce of guilt at mercilessly wielding it. And hated that she had no recourse to fight him.

Despite taking control of her career the moment she’d turned twenty-one, Ana was still tied in to the six-year contract her mother had agreed with the agency just before she’d turned eighteen. Between their fees and her mother’s extortionate managerial expenses she had very little financial capital to fight anything Bastien or his company might throw at her.

She was completely at his mercy and he knew it. He’d remained completely unruffled by her outburst, his unblinking gaze fixed on her.

‘I can’t afford that sum of money,’ she added, just in case he’d missed her meaning before.

‘You’re a top model and a tabloid darling. I find it intriguing that you don’t even have the money to bail yourself out of jail.’

‘What I use my money for is none of your business. And surely you don’t believe everything you read in the papers?’

His teeth bared in a mockery of a smile that made the hairs twitch on her nape. ‘I’ve learned, much to my regret, that there’s almost never any smoke without fire. One way or the other, Miss Duval, you’ll have to account to me at some point. Hate me all you like, but that’s the reality.’

Without waiting for a reaction he flipped open his phone. The conversation flowed in rapid, flawless French. It carried on for almost fifteen minutes and the whole time Ana’s heart pounded, the feeling of being completely immersed in her worst nightmare growing stronger by the minute.

In three weeks she had to return to court and fight drug possession charges. In the meantime she had to wait and see how the fall-out of this latest tabloid scandal would affect her. Not that she was a stranger to scandal. For as long as she could remember her mother had made sure to be caught in one on a regular basis—just to keep herself in the limelight. And if it happened to involve her supermodel daughter in some way, all the better.

Was it any wonder men like Bastien had the wrong idea about her?

Suddenly she yearned to speak to her father. To hear his calm, soothing voice. He was the one anchor she clung to when things got bad. But he was in the middle of the Amazonian jungle and their fortnightly phone call wasn’t scheduled for several days.

‘We’re here.’

Bastien thrust the door open and stepped out. Blinking at the brilliant sunlight pouring in, Ana looked out onto a private airstrip.

She’d been so engrossed in the turbulent emotions Bastien aroused in her he might have driven her all the way to Outer Mongolia and she would have been none the wiser.

She glanced at the huge, gleaming jet sitting metres from the car and her heart sank. The Heidecker Corporation’s blue and gold logo emblazoned on the tail brought home to her just how easily she could be crushed by the entity she’d taken on.

But then David had triumphed against Goliath...

She suppressed a bubble of hysteria and watched Bastien’s strong, lengthy stride to the foot of the plane’s steps, where his pilot waited.

She’d never wanted to fight with Bastien. From their first meeting sixteen years ago she’d tried to find friendly common ground with him, despite the dreadful irony of their circumstances. She’d tried myriad ways to prove that she wasn’t his enemy, that they could be friends even as her mother was tearing his family apart. Deep down she’d known he’d resented her—not for her presence in his life, but because behind his chilly façade she’d been able to see the pain that echoed her own. She’d desperately wanted to reach him, to soothe away his pain in the hope that he would do the same for her.

How foolish she’d been...

She stepped out of the car and paused when another vehicle screeched to a halt beside her.

An excited Simone sprang from the vehicle and raced towards her.

‘Oh, Ana, I’m so glad you’re all right! When I heard what had happened I was horrified for you.’

Melodramatically she flung her arms around Ana. Two years younger than Ana, Simone Pascale had arrived in London six months ago from her native France and they’d ended up sharing a flat when Ana had accepted that living with her mother was no longer a viable option.

‘And then these strange men turned up. At first I didn’t know what to think. I mean, I was still super-excited for you and everything, because it’s not, like, every day your flatmate leaves to shack up with a multi-billionaire—’

Ana pulled away. ‘What? I’m not leaving to shack up with anyone. Whatever gave you that idea?’

Simone’s over-bright blue eyes widened. ‘But the pictures outside the court... And the paps were outside the flat, asking me if I knew how long you two had been a couple. I mean, c’est très romantique, non?’

Dread crept up Ana’s spine. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Bastien watching her, eyes narrowed. ‘Simone, what did you say to the reporters?’ she whispered urgently.

‘I said it was the best news ever and that I wished you much happiness... Mon Dieu, are you all right?’

Ana swallowed the sickening bile that had risen in her throat. She reached blindly to reassure Simone and felt her wrist being taken in a firm hold. Heat sizzled up her arm, electrifying her senses and reminding her of her weakness when it came to Bastien.

She pulled at her wrist. He held on tighter.

‘What’s going on here?’ Steel underlined his voice.

‘Nothing,’ Ana interjected quickly, before Simone got a chance to spread her unwelcome news.

Bastien had barely tolerated being linked to her professionally. A romantic link would be even more abhorrent to him.

‘I was just thanking Simone for helping me out.’ Ana stared hard at Simone, who stood gaping at Bastien like a stunned fish.

‘Do you have Miss Duval’s passport?’ Bastien asked her.

Rummaging through her bag, Simone located it and handed it over to him.

‘Merci. That will be all.’

Ana glared at him for the pointed dismissal and turned to Simone. ‘I’ll give you a call later.’

Simone nodded and hugged her again. ‘Hang on to him, Ana. He’s absolutely magnifique!’ she whispered feverishly.

‘Let’s go. I don’t want us to miss our flight slot.’ Bastien’s impatient tone matched his stride across the tarmac.

She hurried up the steps, acutely aware of the shortness of her dress.

Once inside, she just stopped and gaped.

She’d flown in a few private planes with her job, but nothing had come close to the level of luxury accosting her senses now.

Royal blue carpeting stretched as far as the eye could see. Cream club chairs flanked both sides of the aircraft, separated by smooth marble tables on which stood exquisite flower displays and stylish lamps. The shades had been half pulled down over the windows to limit the glare of the late-afternoon sun and the atmosphere inside the craft was one of superb and seriously lavish comfort.

Ana would have been excited at being in such surroundings but for the darts of apprehension racing up and down her spine as once again the sensation of stepping into danger engulfed her.

A stewardess approached, a smile on her face as she greeted them and relieved her of Bastien’s jacket. Weirdly, she felt exposed both inside and out without it. Pushing the feeling away, she murmured her thanks.

Bastien guided her into a chair and sat opposite her, his long legs stretched out on either side of her, imprisoning hers. She clamped her thighs together immediately, her senses screeching their awareness of him.

She thought of changing seats, then impatiently dismissed the idea. As long as he was close there would be no getting away from the discordant emotions bubbling underneath her skin. He’d always had that effect on her. Same as she knew she had an unsettling effect on him. Besides, she refused to let him intimidate her.

She glanced out of the window, feigning interest in the cargo trucks moving around a short distance away. But all too soon they were in the air, with clouds blocking her view of the landscape and taking away her reason for ignoring Bastien.

Steeling herself, she glanced at him.

He lounged in his chair, completely relaxed, eyes fixed on her, an unopened briefcase in front of him. Flushing, she wondered how long he’d been staring at her.

‘Do I make you nervous?’

The laugh forced from her throat sounded false. ‘Of course not. What gave you that idea?’

‘You’re skittish around me. I wonder why,’ he said, almost conversationally.

‘I’m not skittish—just annoyed that I’m tied to you for the next three weeks.’

‘We all have a cross to bear, I suppose.’

She raised her chin. ‘You’re obviously as displeased about this as I am, so why did you vouch for me with the judge? Why not just elect one of your subordinates?’

‘And make them liable should you decide to flee?’

‘You have a very low opinion of me.’ She didn’t know why that hurt so much. ‘Why is that, Bastien? What have I ever done to make you think so little of me?’

‘I think we both know the answer to that.’

Her face flamed. ‘What happened on the yacht—’

‘You mean when you tried to use your body to change my mind about firing you?’

‘That wasn’t what I was doing...’ She floundered and stopped as the memory tripped to life.

The moment she’d turned on the boat and seen Bastien standing on the deck, watching her, every nerve in her body had sprung to life.

The boy she’d known had grown into a breathtaking specimen of a man, with a commanding presence that had reached across the distance and held her captive. The smile she hadn’t even been aware she’d given had slowly died as a deep, decadent awareness had arced between them. There’d been nothing boyish about the look in his eyes when he’d reached her.

‘What are you doing here?’ Fierce, flaying words—whispered through incredibly sensual lips.

It had taken her a minute to gather her senses. ‘Hello to you too, Bastien.’

His mouth had compressed. ‘Answer me.’

‘I’m working—or at least I will be when you allow the crew to return. You’ve sent them away because...?’ She turned away, because she couldn’t look into those grey eyes without her midriff fluttering madly as if she was in the midst of a fever.

‘You shouldn’t have been given this commission.’

A lance of unsettling anger made her whirl about. He stood right behind her, so close her hair slid across his jaw. ‘Why not? Because you still have a chip on your shoulder about our past?’

His nostrils flared. ‘No. Because the brief called for someone conservative—not someone who...’

His deliberate pause, the drift of his eyes over her scantily clad body had sent flares of awareness and dark arousal all over her.

Her body’s reaction shamed her, but she didn’t give him the benefit of knowing he unsettled her.

Using her best catwalk pose, she planted her hands on her hips and cocked one hip. ‘Someone who makes men want to drown their women in your diamonds? You don’t want someone who makes wives, girlfriends and women who know what they want hit the speed dial for their nearest jeweller the moment the ads are aired? I’m sorry—I thought you were in this business to make money?’

Her smirk and her taunts were purely for self-preservation. The combination of magnetism, mild derision and lust she could see in his eyes deeply unsettled her.

As did his arctic smile.

‘My vision for the product you’re promoting isn’t quite what you have in mind.’

‘Really?’ The tilt of her head had been well-practised for the camera. ‘I read a survey recently. Next to pure silk, women voted diamonds as the sexiest thing to wear against their skin. So perhaps your vision needs to be a little less...Victorian and more sexy.’

He raised an eyebrow and slowly stalked her, not stopping until she was backed against the railing that overlooked the lower deck. Silence cloaked the upper deck, the rest of the crew having been dispatched somewhere below deck. Above them, stars glittered in the sultry evening. All around her Bastien’s scent and imposing presence sent her heart-rate soaring.

‘Are you telling me how to do my job, Miss Duval?’ He caged her in, hands on either side of her, and treated her to narrow-eyed scrutiny.

‘Just a little friendly advice. Sex sells—or haven’t you heard.’

‘And you’re an expert in that field?’

She gasped, then tried to rein in her temper. ‘I’m an expert at what I do. If you weren’t sure who your target audience were perhaps you should’ve stuck to heading banks and building hotels.’

His icy imprecation rumbled along her nerves. ‘You haven’t stopped needing to play with fire, ma petite.’

‘And you haven’t stopped staring down your nose at me like I’m some inconvenience you can’t wait to be rid of. Would it hurt you to be nice for once in your life?’

He froze. ‘Nice? Believe me, cherie, when I look at you, “nice” is the last thing I feel.’ The words were whisper-soft but filled with a mixture of censure, need and puzzlement.

Her next question was inevitable—as was her need to draw even closer to that electrifying orbit. Before she could stop herself, she’d lifted her hand to his taut cheek, traced that stern jaw to the corner of his mouth. His sharp exhale made her shudder.

‘What do you feel?’

‘You don’t want to know,’ he muttered thickly.

‘Maybe I do. Maybe for once I want to hear you vocalise what you actually feel, Bastien.’

He closed his eyes for a split second. ‘Mon Dieu...’

She rose on tiptoe and pressed her lips to his, the need a wild clamour that wouldn’t be stopped. His hands clamped on her immediately. One at her waist, the other in her hair. He held her prisoner and deepened the kiss, his groan a rough, hungry sound. He branded her with his mouth and his hands and she willingly gave him complete access.

It might have been seconds or minutes later that she found herself on her back on a lounger, his head between her bared breasts, her swimsuit bunched somewhere around her waist. Her hoarse cry when his fingers slid beneath her suit to tease her wet heat made him raise his head. His eyes were molten with intense need.

‘You want to know how I feel? Right now I want to take you, possess you, make you forget every other man who has come before me.’

‘Why?’

‘Because you’ve been under my skin since the first time I saw you. A precocious kid who wouldn’t take no for an answer. You watched me with those soulful eyes and dogged my every step until I couldn’t move without you tripping me up. You’re still under my skin. Everywhere I look you’re on a billboard or on the side of a bus. Except now you make me ache—make me crave things I do not want to crave.’

‘And you hate me for that?’

His smile made her breath catch.

‘I hate that you have a certain...power over me. I cannot allow that.’ His fingers moved and his mouth closed over her nipple.

She shuddered as his imposing erection pressed deeper into her belly. ‘So...what? You’re going to use your position to bring me to heel? Or are you going to use sex?’

A part of her couldn’t deny the thought excited her, but another part recoiled from the idea.

He froze and locked eyes with her. A frown slowly creased his brow, then his gaze drifted over her semi-nude body. He swallowed and shook his head, as if divesting himself from the clutches of a bad dream.

He started to rise but she locked her fingers behind his head.

‘Bastien...’ She wasn’t sure what she wanted to say but she hated the look in his eyes.

He firmly disentangled himself from her and stood. ‘I’m ashamed to admit that was my intention.’ He shoved a hand through his hair. ‘What did you say—sex sells? How very right you are.’

The delivery was cold. And although most of the censure in his voice was directed at himself, a healthy dose spilled her way.

Rushing to rise and right her clothes, she felt fury cut through her lust haze. ‘You can’t fire me for doing my job, Bastien!’

He turned away, as if he couldn’t bear to look at her. ‘No, but I will keep a close eye on you from now on.’

‘Go ahead. And be sure to send me a thank-you bonus when your sales go through the roof.’ Burning at the thought of that day, Ana glared at Bastien. ‘So things got out of hand before we could stop ourselves? That’s what you get for being so vile!’

He stared back for several seconds, then shrugged. ‘Let’s blame my unexpected discovery of just who it was my marketing people had chosen for my campaign.’

She frowned. ‘You mean you didn’t know?’

‘I’m not in the habit of micromanaging my businesses. You, on the other hand, knew who you would be working for. Why did you take the assignment?’

‘Because I foolishly hoped the past could remain in the past.’ She locked eyes with him, saw the stormy emotions swirling in his grey eyes. ‘Surely you can’t blame me for what happened sixteen years ago?’

She hated herself for caring enough to want to know, but the idea that they would be locked in that volatile winter for ever made her heart lurch sickeningly.

For several seconds he said nothing. Then, ‘No, but it doesn’t make the reminder of that time any less palatable.’

His response dashed the tiny burgeoning hope she’d harboured.

‘So you’re saying you’ll never look at me and not remember what happened then?

‘Non.’

An icy numbness settled over her. ‘Well, I guess that’s definitive enough. Oh, and for what it’s worth, I never set out to use my body to convince you to let me keep my job. What happened...just happened.’

‘A lot of things “just happen” with you around, I’m discovering.’

Anger washed away the numbness. ‘Oh, screw you, Bastien,’ she flung at him, then flushed from head to toe at her unfortunate choice of words.

He laughed—the sound as unexpected as it was pleasing. She gave in to a reluctant smile and breathed easier.

* * *

‘I asked for your suitcase to be delivered to the cabin. Perhaps you’d like to change once we reach cruising altitude?’ he suggested, bringing her back to the present.

His consideration made her soften. Nodding, she relaxed her taut muscles a fraction—only to tense again as her bare leg rubbed against his calf. Heat dragged low in her belly and a familiar tingling shot to the apex of her thighs.

Clamping her legs tightly together, she muttered, ‘Thank you.’ The quicker she was out of his presence, out of this dress and back in the comfort of jeans and a top, the better she’d feel.

Grabbing a magazine from the nearby stack, she flipped blindly through the glossy pages.

‘There’s also a shower if you wish to make use of it.’

She froze, refusing to think of Bastien naked, wet or otherwise. But a persistent image took root, imprinted itself on her brain and sent her heart-rate soaring.

His added, ‘It’s not large, but it’ll do,’ caused her hand to tremble so badly she dropped the magazine.

What on earth was wrong with her?

She darted a glance at him to see if he’d witnessed her discomfort. His nostrils were pinched, his jaw clenched, his eyes a shade that reminded her of how he looked when he was aroused.

She tried to look away. His gaze held her prisoner. Images of him underneath a shower, naked, flooded her mind. Ripples of desire surged through her abdomen, radiated outwards until her limbs felt weak, leaden.

Slowly his eyes swirled with heat, like the smoke from a rumbling volcano just before it erupted. She didn’t have much experience when it came to men, but an unavoidable by-product of her profession was learning very quickly to interpret lust.

Bastien’s eyes reflected a danger that would consume her given half a chance. Her breath locked; that secret, swollen place between her legs throbbed harder.

His gaze dropped to her exposed thighs and lingered for endless seconds, and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. Heat continued to drag through her. Unable to stay still, she slowly crossed her legs.

Bastien followed the movement, his eyes roving over her until she wanted to scream...scream something at him.

The loud ‘ding’ signalling the seatbelts sign being turned off jerked her out of the dangerous quicksand. A moment later the stewardess pushed back the curtain and stepped into the cabin.

Dazed, Ana watched Bastien’s eyelids sweep down, veil his expression. Pressing a button in the wall, he pulled out a laptop and slid it open.

She envied his steely control, wished she could harvest a tiny fraction of it and not feel as if the maelstrom of sensations buffeting her body would rip her in two.

The stewardess set down a tray of drinks. Before she could serve them, Bastien said, ‘Mathilde, please show Miss Duval to the bedroom.’ His voice too was smooth as silk.

‘Of course.’

‘We’ll eat when you return,’ he said, without looking up from his papers.

Ana struggled to her feet, irritated and more than a little bit confused.

The last thing she needed was to develop any feelings for Bastien. But for the life of her she couldn’t seem to draw on the composed, unruffled demeanour she usually projected for the camera.

The thought scared her more than she cared to admit. Was Bastien right? Would they never be able to be in each other’s presence without the past rearing its dangerous head? And would this insane attraction eventually whizz itself out of control? Or would it grow stronger, like a tornado, devouring everything in its path?

She summoned a smile when Mathilde indicated the cabin door to her left.

In a large mahogany-panelled bedroom, Ana found herself alone for the first time since being taken from her cell that morning. She froze when she realised she hadn’t even thought of her predicament for the last hour.

Her hands trembled as she grappled with the realisation that Bastien, despite his high-handed and autocratic attitude, made her feel...safe.

It was the same feeling that had compelled her to continually seek him out at his parents’ house sixteen years ago—had made her ignore his keep out demeanour.

Never mind the excitement bubbling underneath her skin, the heat scouring her abdomen in that dangerous, delicious manner whenever she was close to him, her underlying feeling with Bastien was that he would never deliberately hurt her.

Which was completely irrational, of course.

Hoping that time away from his unsettling presence would restore her equilibrium. along with her common sense, she shed the offensive silk dress and entered the bathroom.

What it lacked in space it made up for in opulence and accessories. Cosmetics designed for both sexes adorned the shelf space. For a charged, insane moment her mind conjured up Bastien sharing this bedroom with a lover, showering with her in this bathroom.

With a hiss of impatience she stripped off her panties and stepped beneath the warm spray. What Bastien did with his lovers was nothing to do with her.

Soaping her body, she washed quickly, resolutely refusing to think about the man who could flip her world upside down with minimal effort and thinking instead of who had gone to such lengths to frame her.

For a wild moment Ana wondered if her mother had been behind the frame-up. But that didn’t make sense. Lily Duval would never mess with the source of her income. Getting Ana thrown off the DBH campaign would attract the sort of scandal her mother craved, but even she wouldn’t bite the hand that fed her.

Which meant there were no other suspects in the frame.

Sighing, Ana turned off the shower and grabbed a towel. Padding to the bedroom, she unzipped her suitcase...

And flicked through the packed clothes with growing horror.

The jeans, cotton tops and wool-blend sweaters she’d expected were nowhere in sight. Instead she pulled out the skimpy outfits from her last fashion show, saucy lingerie from a recent underwear shoot and silk, lace, sheer chiffon see-through wisps of nothing that made up the theme of this year’s spring/summer collection.

Sinking onto the bed, Ana crushed a silk bra in her fist.

It didn’t take a genius to work out that Simone, believing Ana was embarking on a torrid love affair, had packed clothes fit for a woman out to drive her lover crazy with lust.

She choked off a feverish bubble of laughter and dug through her case with renewed vigour, a cry of relief escaping when she grasped what felt like denim.

Pulling it out, her spirits sank lower. The material of the jeans was slashed in so many suggestive places it was downright indecent. She’d modelled them two weeks ago, on a shoot for an up-and-coming designer. Once on, they would cling like a second skin, the stretchy material revealing even more flesh.

Another frenzied search produced a soft cashmere sweater. The batwing design covered her arms, although it left her with an exposed cleavage and back, and its dramatic style made wearing a bra nonsensical. Not great, but at least it covered her midriff.

Curbing a growl of frustration, she passed a brush through her hair, trying not to look into the floor-length mirror next to the bathroom door as she did so.

She gathered her hair on top of her head and pinned it in place. Bastien already thought she used her body to achieve her own ends. His opinion of her couldn’t sink any lower. Besides, she’d endured worse looks from men in the past.

But none of them made your pulse hammer so hard, or made you aware of every erratic breath you took.

Pursing her lips, she grasped the door handle and opened it.

Bastien’s huge frame filled the doorway.

‘Are you stalking me?’ she snapped.

His mouth quirked. ‘I was beginning to wonder whether you’d launched yourself out of the nearest air lock.’ His penetrating gaze captured hers and something throbbed to life in her chest.

‘The idea was tempting, but the thought of food won against the need to escape.’ Her stomach rumbled in agreement and she grimaced.

‘Then by all means come, let’s satisfy your hunger...’ he drawled mockingly—then froze, his gaze fixed over her shoulder.

Cringing, Ana glanced back at the clothes strewn on the bed.

She rushed to the bed and lunged for the clothes. Only to stop when his suppressed hiss made her head jerk around. His eyes were riveted on her behind, his laser gaze burning right through the wide slash in the jeans exposing half her bottom.




Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.


Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/mayya-bleyk/innocent-in-his-diamonds/) на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.