CHAPTER THREE
‘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?’