The Best Of The Year - Modern Romance. Annie West

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

      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