The Best Of The Year - Modern Romance

CHAPTER NINE

BASTIEN’S FACE HARDENED. ‘I’m sure I can prove you wrong on the bastard issue, just as I’m sure you’re about to enlighten me on these “vile, despicable” things I’m supposed to have done.’

‘You know exactly what you’ve done. More or less—those were your words! God, how could I have been so stupid!’

Ana couldn’t control her shaking or stem the deep well of pain springing up in her heart. She’d trusted him. She’d dropped her guard and given herself to him.

One brow lifted. ‘I’m afraid you’re not making any sense. Try again.’

‘My contract!’ Why couldn’t she hold her voice steady? Why did it have to break now, when she needed to be strong? ‘I trusted you.’ She’d felt safe with him, foolishly let herself believe he wouldn’t hurt her.

He exhaled slowly, a wash of bleakness blanking his features before he blinked it away. ‘What about your contract?’

‘You said it was “more or less” the same as the other one. Except you lied. It’s so much more! Sleeping with me—was that a reward to yourself for successfully tricking me?’

His eyes grew arctic-cold. Stalking to where she stood, he grabbed her arm. ‘You debase yourself with that assumption, Ana, and you debase me,’ he breathed in soft, dangerous tones. ‘I’ve never slept with anyone to secure a business deal.’

‘A way of congratulating yourself for a job well done, then?’

He let go abruptly, as if he couldn’t stand to touch her. ‘I’m assuming this is how you feel about your contract. But I’m still in the dark as to how you think I’ve tricked you,’ he incised.

‘You know what you’ve done. My last contract was supposed to finish next month. Instead you’ve tied me into a contract for another year!’

‘And I’m guessing you have a problem with that?’

‘No. I’m flinging insults at you just for the hell of it. Deep down inside, Bastien, I’m actually dancing a jig.’

‘Facetiousness doesn’t suit you.’

‘No? Perhaps you’d prefer me to come over there and claw your eyes out?’

Her voice broke again. And, damn it, tears welled in her eyes. They grew faster than she could stop them and spilled over before she could blink them away.

She swiped her cheeks with an angry hand. ‘How could you, Bastien?’

‘It’s just business,’ he replied coolly, but something flitted through his eyes, a slight softening as he traced her tearstained cheek.

‘My life isn’t just business. My future isn’t just business!’

His brows clamped together. ‘Je ne comprends pas. You read the contract. Why did you sign it if you didn’t agree with the terms?’

Her tears spilled faster, her shame closing in on her in a thick cloud of despair. She tried to look away, but Bastien’s gaze had locked on hers with unwavering intensity. Her throat clogged with even more tears, her heart sinking as he came closer and grasped her shoulders.

‘Why did you sign the contract, Ana?’ he demanded.

She tried desperately to wrench herself out of his hold but he easily restrained her. More tears slid down her cheeks. She swallowed another sob, knowing there was no place to hide. ‘Because I...I didn’t want to admit that I...that I can’t...’

His grip tightened. ‘That you can’t what?’

‘That I can’t read!’

His eyes widened. His jaw dropped along with his hands.

At any moment Ana knew his astonishment would be replaced with disgust. And she couldn’t bear that—couldn’t stand to see his revulsion at the realisation that he’d slept with someone who couldn’t string two words together on a page.

Brushing past him, she fled the room. That he didn’t stop her or even call out to her spoke volumes.

Ana didn’t stop until she was outside, gasping in lungfuls of air as if they would stem the tears rolling freely down her face. But sobs continued to surge through her chest, released in agonising sounds that ripped through the morning air. She stumbled into the garden. Bypassing the koi pond, she ran until she found a bench on the far side of the grounds. Sinking down onto it, she dropped her face into her hands.

The secret she’d carried with her for more than half her life was out. Part of her felt relief that she no longer had to carry the heavy burden. But a larger part of her would have given anything to take it back. Because Bastien would never look at her the same way again. A man in his position wouldn’t want to associate himself with anyone with her handicap. Who would want an illiterate model representing his world-class diamonds?

Fresh sobs clogged her throat. Defiantly, she swallowed them down. He’d lulled her into a false sense of security by letting her believe everything was above-board. It didn’t sit well to acknowledge that part of it was her fault. She’d been so inclined to believe the good in Bastien that she’d dropped her vigilance when it came to her career.

She heard his approach a second before he emerged from behind a rose bush. Tall and powerful, he blocked out the bright sunshine when he stopped in front of her.

She turned away, hoping the curtain of her hair would hide her blotched, tearstained face.

‘Go away, Bastien.’ After all that had happened, after trusting him with her body, she just couldn’t face him.

He didn’t respond. Instead a square, neatly folded handkerchief appeared before her eyes. Mutely, she stared at it, wondered why it made her want to cry all over again.

She snatched it from him with curt thanks, tried to repair as much of the damage as possible and cringed when a hiccup escaped.

He folded his large frame on to the bench next to her and awareness of a different sort scythed through her as his thigh brushed hers. Surreptitiously she eased away.

If he noticed he didn’t comment. Neither did he break the silence. It screeched on her nerves until, unable to stand it, she glanced furtively at him.

He was studying his hands, folded between his thighs. Sensing her gaze, his eyes locked with hers.

‘The newspaper and the audio books?’ he asked simply.

Face flaming, she nodded.

‘Tell me,’ he coaxed gently.

Her lips quivered and she looked away. ‘I’d rather not.’

‘It’s nothing to be ashamed of, ma petite.’ His voice was a low rumble. ‘Dyslexia is a common—’

‘I don’t suffer from dyslexia. I can barely read or write because until I took matters into my own hands a year ago I’d never been taught how.’ She waited for his revulsion, fresh tears stinging her eyes.

It never came. His eyes remained steady on hers, curiosity the only emotion she glimpsed in the silver depths.

‘Why not?’

She heaved in a breath. ‘At the time of my parents’ divorce Lily was still modelling. When my father lost the custody battle he was devastated. He returned to Colombia and she immediately pulled me out of school with the excuse that she was taking me travelling and would hire tutors for me. And she did in the beginning. But she wouldn’t pay the tutors and they would leave after a couple of months.

‘I...I let something slip once to my father. She burned all my toys and called me an ungrateful child. After that she didn’t bother to hide it from my father. She knew it would deeply upset him. He’s a professor and education is his life. He reported her to the authorities a few times. She responded by banning me from seeing him for two years. When she signed me up with a modelling agency she warned me that if I let on about my lack of education I’d never see my father again. I was too scared to risk it so I...I lied to the agency when they asked if I was being tutored. Once I asked her why. She told me I was pretty enough. I didn’t need an education.’

Bastien cursed under his breath. ‘You mentioned a year ago. What changed?’

She took a deep breath. ‘That’s when I decided to stop modelling. My father was discussing his latest find with me. It was fascinating, and I told him I’d love to volunteer on one of his projects. But even as a volunteer I’d need basic qualifications. I found myself a tutor, and I’ve been making steady progress, but I get...overwhelmed under pressure.’

He gave a slight shake of his head, his eyes fixed on hers. ‘And my asking you to sign a time-sensitive contract yesterday...’ He cursed under his breath.

‘I suppose you’re disgusted?’

‘Mon Dieu, of course I’m not disgusted,’ he said, and the admission was faintly tinged with something else—something that sounded a lot like...admiration.

Ana inwardly shook her head. She was imagining things.

Abruptly, Bastien looked away. His gaze tracked two butterflies chasing each other from flower to flower. Then he reached into his pocket and extracted a sheaf of papers.

Ana’s heart lurched as his large hands unfolded the document. She recognised her contract immediately.

‘This agreement is made between Diamonds by Heidecker Incorporated, a subsidiary of the Heidecker Corporation, and Miss Ana Duval of—’

‘Bastien, what are you doing?’

‘I’m doing what I would’ve done if you’d told me. I’d never violate your trust, ma petite. If you don’t believe anything else, believe that.’

He carried on reading, his deep, beautiful voice low and hypnotic. Blinking back tears, she listened, her heart trembling as realisation sank in.

Bastien wasn’t disgusted. He wasn’t scornful that she couldn’t read.

He was helping her.

Feelings, deep and inexplicable, flooded through her.

He read on, pausing every now and then to make sure she was paying attention. When he’d finished he glanced at her. ‘You understood all that?’

Biting her lip to keep back the tears that seemed determined to ruin her, she nodded. ‘Yes. You extended it by another year because you’re thinking of serialising the ad campaign.’

‘Yes. Would you have signed this contract if you’d known what you know now?’

She hesitated for a split second. ‘No. I want to go and work with my father.’

He nodded. Then, without taking his eyes from hers, he tore the contract in two. Her gasp settled on the air before disintegrating against the sound of continued ripping. He shredded the paper until the sheets were tiny, insubstantial squares. Rolling them into a ball, he stuffed it in his pocket.

‘Why?’ she asked around a throat clogged with choking emotion.

His gaze turned sombre. ‘You had no idea what you were signing. I won’t take advantage of that.’

Simple words. Such simple words. Yet Ana felt the ground shift beneath her. Felt something cataclysmic rush through her, bringing back that sense of foreboding she’d felt as they drove through the gates of the chateau five days ago. But this time she caught a glimpse of what it meant before the moment was lost again. And she wasn’t as frightened. What she did feel was an overwhelming need to touch Bastien, to connect with him—somehow convey this inexplicable feeling she couldn’t give voice to.

Before she could stop herself she placed her hand on his cheek. ‘If this carries on I’ll start to think you’re not as hard as you make yourself out to be.’ Her voice emerged deeply husky, a result of her tears and the feelings roiling through her.

A small smile lifted one corner of his mouth. ‘Don’t fool yourself. I’m still the same.’

Her soft laugh wrapped around them. ‘Maybe, but you’re not so scary any more.’

He sobered. ‘I scared you?’

‘For a little while—and only because I didn’t really know you well enough.’

‘And you think you know me now?’ A hint of wariness laced his tone, but he didn’t move away.

‘I’d like to...if you’d let me.’ Knowing she was straying into forbidden territory made her shiver. But she forced herself to hold Bastien’s gaze even when it hardened slightly.

‘There’s nothing to know. I told you: I’m a simple man.’

With deep undercurrents of emotional baggage. Ana let it go, but she couldn’t stop herself from leaning forward to kiss him lightly on the lips. He immediately deepened the kiss, stamping his mastery on the act until they both had to come up for air.

‘Thank you,’ she muttered when she could speak.

‘What for?’ he breathed against her lips.

‘For listening and for not being repulsed by my inability to read.’

He twisted his head, kissed her palm and folded her hand in his. ‘Being unable to read or write doesn’t define who you are. Don’t be ashamed of it.’ Standing up, he reached for her. ‘We’ll discuss your new contract later. I need to make a few calls before we head out for the picnic.’

‘We’re still going?’ she asked, surprised.

‘Nothing has changed, Ana.’

Her heart lifted, but almost immediately sank again. He might have just shown her that the kind, considerate fifteen-year-old she’d caught a glimpse of still existed somewhere in the adult Bastien. But that was as far as their situation went.

Their one-night agreement still stood. She was still his employee. And he was still giving out ‘Do Not Trespass’ signals.

And yet Ana knew she had changed. And with that change had come a deep yearning to fight for what she wanted.

And she wanted Bastien.

The truth of the statement hit her like a bolt of lightning.

As she walked beside him through the garden back to the château she couldn’t help glancing at him. He wasn’t as closed-off as he’d been a few days ago. The tightness around his mouth and eyes had eased, and the impassive look she’d associated with him at the beginning had dissipated. But she’d seen another side of him now. Perhaps, with time, he might even let her in.

Bastien caught her glance. ‘What’s wrong?’

She shook her head. ‘Nothing. I’ll go and freshen up and meet you here in an hour.’

* * *

Bastien finished his calls in half that time but deliberately stayed in his study, even though he wanted to shove back his chair and hunt her down. The confusion that had assailed him in the middle of the night when he’d watched her sleep had returned, intensified, since her stark announcement that morning.

He didn’t know what to do with the rush of protectiveness he’d felt when he’d seen her pain. Nor his undeniable need to seek her out in the garden, make sure she was all right.

Destroying the contract had been a no-brainer once he knew.

His jaw tightened. Lily Duval had wronged her daughter on so many levels. His own parents’ callous rejection had eroded any thoughts of a family of his own from his mind well before he’d emerged from teenhood. A life of solitude with the occasional liaison suited him fine. But Ana, despite her mother’s treatment of her, had forgiven her over and over. Bastien found it hard to grasp that forgiving spirit. But he couldn’t deny that he found it humbling...that it forced him to examine his relationship with his parents.

He glanced at the phone, found himself reaching for it. This time he dialled the number even as his senses reeled. He listened to the echoing ring, then the answer machine clicked in.

He cleared his throat. ‘Maman, c’est moi, Bastien... I...I’ll call back tomorrow.’ He dropped the phone and speared a hand through his hair.

What the hell was happening to him? What the hell was he doing, risking rejection all over again?

His every thought seemed to go back to Ana. She was responsible for this madness. For this upheaval in his life. The wisest thing would be to stay away from her.

He surged to his feet, but his intended path to the window veered off course when he heard her voice outside his study. Her fist was poised to knock. Her eyes, devoid of the tears that had slashed at his insides earlier, clashed with his.

‘Our picnic’s ready. Do you want me to take it down to the pier?’

Glancing down, he saw the large basket at her feet, but almost immediately his attention was riveted on her legs displayed beneath the skirt of her sundress.

A tremor coursed through him, displacing thought and reason and creating a vivid picture of how those legs had felt wrapped around him.

With more force than necessary he grasped the handle of the basket and yanked it up. ‘It’s all right. I’m ready to leave.’

She fell into step beside him. Bastien tried not to inhale her scent greedily.

They walked down to the pier and he saw her surprise when they reached his twenty-foot navy blue cabin cruiser.

‘I thought the boat would be a replica of your big, flashy super-yacht moored in Cannes. Or is that only for seducing the employees you want to fire?’

He slid her a glance. ‘What happened on that boat has only happened once. With you.’

He helped her in and passed her the basket. Their fingers touched and she trembled. Resisting the urge to cancel the trip and sweep her off into his bed, he started the engine and eased away from the pier.

‘Where are we going?’ she asked.

‘We’re headed upstream to Villeneuve.’

They picked up speed and Ana threw back her head, a wide smile on her face as she enjoyed the rush of the breeze.

Bastien watched her wave to other sailors, unable to take his eyes off her. When she glanced at him the look in her eyes stopped his breath. Forcing himself to concentrate or risk crashing, he pulled the boat into a tiny inlet and pointed to a hill above them.

‘There’s a spot just over that rise. We’ll have lunch there.’

They reached the top of the hill and she gazed down at the view. ‘It’s beautiful,’ she said.

‘Indeed,’ he agreed.

She turned and Bastien’s gaze dropped to her mouth. Relentless desire pounded at him. She swayed as if the force of his need had physically reached out and tugged her to him.

Last night had done nothing to ease his hunger, he admitted grimly to himself. If anything, it had only intensified his yearning for her.

That didn’t mean he had to act on it. Turning away, he briskly laid out their lunch, gesturing to her to take her place opposite him.

Tucking her hair behind her ears, Ana sank onto the blanket. ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’

‘Grab a plate and dish out the food. The bread should still be warm. I’ll cut up some cheese after I pour the wine,’ he said.

He filled a crystal glass and passed it to her. Her slim fingers brushed his. He heard her faint gasp and forced himself to ignore it.

‘The weather is much cooler than I imagined it would be at this time of year.’

‘To Genevans this is positively arctic weather.’

‘You’re very lucky. I hate being cold.’

‘Then why do you live in London?’

She shrugged. ‘That’s where I grew up. But I won’t be for much longer.’

‘Archaeology is a huge change.’

She took a bite of her food and chewed before answering. ‘I love a challenge.’

His wry smile confirmed that observation. ‘Most women would give everything to be in your place. And the paparazzi certainly loves you.’ He watched her, twirling his wine glass lazily between his fingers.

‘I’m not most women. And I don’t court publicity, if that’s what you’re implying. What I do is part of my job—’

‘It’s part of your job to constantly appear in public wearing as little as possible, hanging off the arm of the latest male model?’ A dark emotion stormed through his gut and his fingers tightened around his glass.

‘You’d be surprised how often the same pictures are modified and reused. Anyway, how do you know? Have you been checking up on me?’

Bastien felt a dull flush creep across his cheeks. He refused to admit he’d taken more than a little interest in her since she’d become the model for the DBH campaign.

When her eyes collided with his, heat flared within him. ‘I take a healthy interest for professional reasons.’

She laughed. ‘Really? Are you saying a powerful businessman like you doesn’t have minions to check things like that for you?’ Her voice had grown husky and her head had tilted seductively.

He grew hotter. He took a few bites of food as emotions tumbled through him.

They’d long passed civilised conversation and moved on to the subtext of sex and feelings that seemed inevitably to spring up between them when they were alone. His gaze flicked down to her mouth, her throat, caressed her neck and settled on her chest before climbing back up.

Her tongue snuck out, moistened her plump lips, and right then he would have given anything in the world to taste those lips again.

But he had to end this fevered need that clawed at him every time he looked at her. ‘Don’t look at me like that, ma petite.’

‘Like what?’ she challenged. ‘Help me out here, Bastien. I don’t know how this works. You kiss me when you feel like it, touch me, hold my hand. But I can’t look at you?’

His jaw tightened. ‘You don’t just look. You beguile with every sigh, tempt me with every breath.’

Hurt fleeted through her eyes, making him feel deeply unsettled.

‘I’m not deliberately trying to.’

He half laughed, half groaned. ‘I know. That’s the problem.’

‘Has it even occurred to you that I react like that because I’m attracted to you?’

Bastien was used to women speaking plainly about what they wanted from him—sometimes explicitly. Ana wasn’t one of them. He’d witnessed her struggle before succumbing to the incredible chemistry between them last night. The same way she’d struggled with revealing her painful relationship with her mother.

But the last thing he wanted, or needed, was for her to confuse their sexual encounter with something else. Or, worse, read some deeper meaning into the act. Emotion was messy. Emotion led to heartbreak and rejection.