‘I’m trusting you not to do anything foolish like attempt to leave.’
‘I’m so honoured by your trust,’ she returned sarcastically.
His sensual mouth compressed and he sat down, reached for his phone and swung his chair towards the window.
Ana felt as though she’d been released from the heady power of a vortex. Yet the relief she craved was absurdly missing. Surely she couldn’t want to lock horns with Bastien?
Irritated with herself, she retrieved her bag and left his office, ignoring the hypnotic husk of his voice as he conversed in flawless French.
‘Are you ready to leave?’ Tatiana’s smile oozed enviable confidence.
Forcing herself to focus, Ana nodded. ‘Yes, thank you.’
* * *
Back in her hotel suite, Ana threw down her handbag and pulled the pins from her hair. It seemed a lifetime ago when she’d left here, fearing the worst. The axe hadn’t fallen as she’d expected, yet her instincts warned that she faced a darker threat.
She hated the idea that she had to remain in Switzerland, but she silently conceded that Bastien was right. What good would returning home do aside from setting the paparazzi on her tail again?
Going to the window, she opened the curtain and drank in the view. A towering jet of water shot into the sky from the jetty across the lake, its cascading drops creating breathtaking prisms of light.
Craving a modicum of freedom, she dashed to the bedroom and changed into the clothes she’d worn on the plane. Defiantly, she wore a bra underneath the top this time. The coat covered the worst of the daring slashes and minimised her exposure.
She left the hotel, making sure to keep it in sight at all times. Using the jet of water as her landmark, she walked along the bank, hoping the fresh air would clear her thoughts.
Unbidden, Bastien’s face rose into her mind: the haunted look in his eyes when she mentioned what happened sixteen years ago. That he carried baggage from that time was fairly obvious. So did she, after all. But Bastien was lucky. His parents had stayed together. She hadn’t been so lucky. Her mother’s erratic behaviour and bitter rants had worsened after their winter in Verbier because Bastien’s father had returned to his wife.
His family had survived Lily Duval’s toxic intrusion. He should be celebrating. She and her father hadn’t been so lucky.
Her phone trilled. She seized on it in relief—until she saw the number.
Ana contemplated letting it go to voicemail. But her mother would only call back. Lily didn’t like to be ignored.
‘Lily.’ Ana had been forbidden from calling her Mother the day she’d turned nine.
‘I see you’ve landed herself in a bit of a pickle,’ her mother drawled in carefully cultivated upper-class tones.
‘I’m fine. Thank you for asking.’
Ana had trained herself long ago not to listen for any softening in her mother’s voice but she found herself doing so now, her conversations with Bastien having rubbed at the barrier she’d placed around her heart where her mother was concerned.
‘You’re a Duval. Life will knock you down but you have to learn to bounce back,’ Lily snapped.
Her heart clenched painfully. Again she thought back to her conversation in Bastien’s office and her grip tightened on the phone. Was she being a hypocrite by letting her mother get away with treating her so badly?
‘So your less than loving treatment of me all these years was supposed to teach me a lesson?’
Taut silence greeted her daring question, followed by a haughty, ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about, dear.’
Another jagged arrow of pain lanced through her. ‘Did you ever stop to think I might need a shoulder to cry on before I took my next lesson?’
Her mother laughed. ‘Even if I wanted to offer a shoulder you’d never take it.’
Ana froze. ‘How would you know, since you’ve never offered it?’
Again a small pause, before Lily sighed. ‘I may be blind to some things but not to everything, dear. But, be that as it may, I called
to offer my advice. If you’re thinking of starting anything with Bastien Heidecker I suggest you think twice.’