LITMIR.BIZ

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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

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