Czytaj książkę: «Innocent in His Diamonds»

CHAPTER ONE

BASTIEN HEIDECKER THREW OPEN the doors of his boardroom and strode in. For several seconds none of his board members noticed his presence, absorbed as they were by the catastrophe playing out in high definition on the big screen.

Henry Lang, his CFO, spotted him first.

‘Mr Heidecker! We were just catching up on the latest development...’ The short dark-haired man grabbed the remote, pressed a button and dashed to his seat.

Bastien watched the rest of his staff scramble into their places, his already simmering anger mounting as his gaze shifted to the screen.

Her frozen image stared back at him. Despite the storm brewing beneath the surface of his calm, Bastien couldn’t fault his team for being enthralled by the woman at the centre of the chaos engulfing his company.

Ana Duval was stunning perfection. The half-Colombian, half-English supermodel’s beauty combined innocence and defiance with a hint of cultivated vulnerability that had been skilfully honed into the perfect commodity. That combination had ensnared every red-blooded male in the western hemisphere and ensured her a permanent place in the limelight by the time she’d turned twenty-one.

Hell, it had nearly ensnared him...

Even at fifteen Bastien had known the skinny, doe-eyed, eight-year-old he’d had the misfortune of spending that unforgettable winter with was nothing but trouble. What he hadn’t foreseen was that sixteen years later Ana Duval would bring bedlam right to his doorstep.

His gaze skimmed the silky fall of her straight black hair, the slim, delicate structure of her lissom figure and the legs that had once been described by a fawning companion as forty-two inches of creamy paradise.

Against his will his body stirred in remembrance of having that body close to his only two months ago, of soft, meaningless words whispered in his ear.

He smashed away the memory, took his seat at the head of the table and focused on his second-in-command. ‘What’s the latest on the share price?’

He received a wary grimace. ‘Less than half of what it was yesterday and still falling.’

‘What are the lawyers saying? Can they make this go away?’ he shot back.

Henry glanced down at his watch. ‘There’s a court hearing at two o’clock this afternoon. They’re hoping since this is Miss Duval’s first offence the judge will be lenient—’

‘Alleged offence.’ Bastien ground out the words.

Henry frowned. ‘Excuse me, sir?’

‘Until there’s clear evidence to prove otherwise, this is merely an alleged offence, non?’

Other board members fidgeted. Henry’s gaze darted to the screen. ‘But she was caught on camera with the drugs in the VIP area of the nightclub—’

Bastien’s lips compressed. He’d already seen the footage some enterprising fool had flooded the internet with on the way from Heathrow. So had the Geneva board members of Heidecker Bank—the largest, most elite private bank in the world and the mother company of Diamonds by Heidecker. Their reaction had reflected his own outrage. He needed to nip this problem in the bud.

He had the trust of most of the board, but the stigma never went away.

Like father, like son.

He was nothing like his father. He’d made it his mission since that dismal summer to prove to himself that sharing DNA didn’t meant sharing deplorable traits. He’d succeeded for twelve years—until one small misstep two months ago had unearthed a doubt he hadn’t been able to erase since. He’d given in to seductive words and an alluring body and he’d almost lost his focus...

He raised his gaze, stared at the culprit and struggled to keep his cool.

The likelihood of Ana’s innocence was less than marginal, but he kept this to himself.

‘Despite what the alleged evidence says, Ana Duval is the face of the DBH range. Our diamonds are worn by the wives of heads of state and A-list celebrities all over the world. Until she’s categorically proved guilty her offences remain strictly alleged, and we’ll do everything to promote that innocence—is that understood?’

Bastien waited until he received nods of agreement before rising.

The sense of déjà vu was overwhelming. The deep, unshakable notion of history repeating itself would have been laughable had he given it any thinking room. But for the sake of his company and his reputation he couldn’t dwell on the past.

Ana Duval might look like a younger version of the woman who’d ripped his family apart, but he was not as weak as his father.

He had to stand by his employee. Distancing himself would only send a message that the allegations had teeth and sound a death knell to the Diamonds by Heidecker ad campaign.

‘How are we handling the media?’ he asked his senior press officer.

‘We’re taking the “no comment” route.’

He nodded. ‘Maintain that for now. But draft a statement denying the allegations and send me a copy.’ He turned to Henry. ‘Send feelers out to our competitors. We have to be ready to sell the company if things keep heading south.’

He was first and foremost a businessman. Before this scandal the signature DBH brand of diamonds had held its own and even excelled in a saturated market. But he knew first-hand how scandal could rock even the safest, most solid foundation—destroy the strongest family.

‘Isn’t that a bit precipitate?’ Henry asked hesitantly.

Across the gleaming surface of the conference table Ana Duval’s dangerously captivating face stared back at him.

‘Sometimes you have to cut out the threat of disease before it gets the chance to take hold and spread.’

* * *

Ana Duval rubbed her wrists. Memories of handcuffs closing over her flesh remained vivid and frightening more than twelve hours after the fact.

Even more terrifying was the judge’s ruling. The preliminary hearing had been alarmingly quick, and the female judge had shown zero sympathy so far.

Ana jumped to her feet. ‘Two hundred thousand pounds? I’m sorry, Your Honour, but that’s—’

‘Miss Duval! We’ll handle this,’ her lawyer said hurriedly as the judge paused and glared at her.

Ana fought not to cower. This whole thing was preposterous. Even if she sold everything remotely of worth in her life she would still fall hopelessly short. She sank back into her seat and rubbed her wrists again, certain that any minute now she’d be dragged back to that dank, soulless cell.

Beside her, the lawyers representing the Heidecker Corporation scrambled into a huddle. She let their voices wash over her and quickly calculated how much money she had in the bank. It didn’t take long.

God, she was going to jail. For using her inhaler. An inhaler that had mysteriously vanished, to be replaced in her purse by another one filled with heroin. The absurdity of her situation would have been comical if it hadn’t been so serious.

Watching her mother pop pill after pill at the slightest hint of unhappiness or adversity had instilled a hatred of substance abuse in Ana at a very early age. Only a very serious asthma attack a year ago had finally convinced Ana to carry her inhaler with her at all times.

Ironic that the very object that was supposed to save her life was what could now ruin it.

The lawyers finally stopped chattering. She opened her mouth to demand to know what was going on. And stopped.

The tingle invading her body was not unfamiliar. She hadn’t experienced it in a long time. In fact— Her heart began a discordant hammer as she recalled the last time she’d felt like this.

It had been on her second day of shooting the first phase of the Diamonds by Heidecker ads. Reclining on the sun-washed deck of a super-yacht in Cannes, bored out of her mind, she’d wondered how soon she could get away to call her father and congratulate him on his latest archaeological find.

The tingle had started much like this one—easing its way up her toes, engulfing her ankles, her calves, weakening her knees, singeing the secret place between her legs. The tingle had stopped there, establishing an almost possessive hold, before rising to engulf her whole body.

Then, as now, she’d wanted to run, to hide and cover herself—a ridiculous notion, considering her profession more often than not involved flaunting herself. Finally, just when she’d felt light-headed from the sensation, the photographer had wrapped the shoot.

Uncoiling from her pose, she’d turned her head.

And had encountered the silver gaze of Bastien Heidecker.

What had happened afterwards still had the power to stop her breath, to raise her heart-rate to dangerous levels no matter how much she tried to downplay the memory.

She turned her head now and encountered the same piercing gaze.

The breath shot from her lungs and that unnerving tingling engulfed her whole body, turning it from numb to fiery within seconds. Her every nerve-ending screeched in awareness of the man whose gaze pinned her to her chair, imprinting and condemning all in one go.

She watched in silence as, without breaking eye contact, he strode to the lawyers and spoke in deep, low tones.

The lead counsel nodded and cleared his throat and Bastien turned towards her, his towering six-foot-two frame and confident tread causing heads to turn in the courtroom. He took a seat directly behind her and with an autocratic jerk of his chin ordered her to face forward.

Heat crawled up her neck, stung her cheeks. With it came anger at herself for so blatantly staring. The judge’s gavel struck, making her jump. Glimpsing Bastien’s mocking smile, she pursed her lips and straightened in her chair.

For the hundredth time Ana wished she’d insisted on changing her clothes before arriving in court. But she’d wanted this hearing over and done with. She glanced down at the thigh-skimming silk dress—already on the risqué side when she’d worn it last night to please Simone, her flatmate, and now bordering on the downright indecent in daylight, especially in a courtroom—and cringed inwardly.

She was discreetly tugging it down when the noise level rose. The lawyers were smiling and shaking hands with Bastien. Grabbing her tiny purse, she stood up.

She glanced around her and noticed there were no guards ready to slap the handcuffs back on and cart her off to jail.

‘What’s going on?’ She’d aimed for brusque and businesslike but her words emerged thick and heavy, as if she were speaking in a foreign tongue. With a leaden hand she pushed back the heavy fall of hair from her face.

Bastien stepped forward, his grey eyes arctic-cold. ‘Found it hard to concentrate, did you?’

‘I beg your pardon?’

The breadth of his shoulders and the sheer force of his personality threatened to overwhelm her. Or it might be because she hadn’t eaten a thing since yesterday. Whatever it was, the light-headedness when she looked into his eyes made her senses swim.

Strong hands gripped her arms and he swore under his breath. She pushed him away but he held on, his irritated growl sizzling along her raw nerves.

‘You will be by the time I’m finished with you,’ he rasped into her ear.

She shivered. That deep voice had intruded on her dreams far too many times, mocked her weakness when it came to Bastien Heidecker. At eight she’d followed him around like a puppy-dog, despite the stay-away-from-me vibes he’d projected loud and clear. At twenty-four she’d almost succumbed to a far more dangerous temptation that continued to haunt her.

No way was she letting that happen again.

‘Let me go, Bastien.’ She wrenched herself from his arms—only to find herself recaptured a moment later when his hands closed over her shoulders.

‘I don’t know whether anything can get through that drug-fogged brain of yours, but I suggest you try and understand this. We’re going outside now. My car will be waiting, but so will the press. You will not say a single word. If you have the slightest inclination to do so, kill it. Do you understand?’

‘Get your hands off me! You’ve got this wrong. I’m not—’

His fingers bit into her shoulders, stifled her protest. A shiver coursed through her as he hauled her closer, his body so close his scent surrounded her.

‘If you want to get out of here in one piece the only word I want out of your mouth right now is yes.’

A rebellious fire lit her belly. For as long as she could remember she’d relied on no one but herself. She’d had no choice.

But this—lawyers, court, the threat of imprisonment—was totally alien to her. Besides, deep down she’d known that she’d have to answer to Bastien sooner or later. He was ultimately her boss. She only wished it had been much later.

Swallowing her words, she nodded. ‘Fine. But only until we get out of here.’

He pulled back, his unforgiving gaze raking down her body. His nostrils flared and she caught a spark of that dark and dangerous emotion that had arced between them on that sultry night two months ago.

With short, jerky movements he tugged off his jacket and settled it over her shoulders.

‘Do my clothes offend you?’ she taunted, despite being grateful for the cover.

‘You can flaunt your skin in your own time. Right now you’re operating on Heidecker time, and I’d rather not battle my way through frenzied paparazzi.’

He tucked the jacket closer around her and her gaze was drawn to the play of hard muscles under his expensive blue cotton shirt. Something tightened in her midriff and that damning tingle started once more. Hurriedly, she tore her gaze away.

She knew very well what her current predicament meant for Diamonds by Heidecker. The last thing she wanted to do was add to her list of sins by acknowledging her inexplicable feelings for its CEO.

He’d barely tolerated her when she was eight years old. That feeling had morphed into something else two months ago. It was something they’d never spoken of and both wished didn’t exist between them.

Except it did...and they’d almost given in to it.

He looked down at her and she saw the reluctant gleam in his eyes. It was gone a second later. Pursing his lips, he captured her wrist and tugged her to the door.

The bolder paparazzi had already breached the outer limits of the courthouse. Years of practice had taught her never to look directly into the camera lenses—because somehow, no matter how much she tried, they always saw too much, revealed too much. Unfortunately, still feeling extremely unsettled, Ana now failed at what she’d practised since the age of seventeen.

The first flash blinded her. Heels meant for walking a few feet from car to dance floor gave way beneath her. Stifling a curse, Bastien caught her and swung her into his arms.

The world erupted in a blinding series of flashes and excited cries. With no choice but to ride the storm, she clasped her arms around his shoulders and buried her face in his neck.

His scent suffused her. Clean, musky...arousing. The warmth of his skin attacked her senses, throwing her back to that night on his yacht, when she’d let her emotions get the better of her. Her pulse quickened, her insides clenched tight as deep, illicit pleasure stole over her.

Ignoring the gossip-hungry media closing in on them, Bastien aimed straight for the black limousine with tinted windows idling on the pavement. One of the three burly men paving the way for them held the door open and they slid inside.

For several heartbeats neither of them moved. The door thudded shut. Silence cloaked them. The muted sound of the running engine hummed through her but still Ana didn’t move. Her gaze skimmed the side of his face, unable to look away as she studied his arresting profile the way an artist studied his subject and committed it to memory.

The rocking of the car leaving the pavement caused her lips to graze the side of his neck.

Bastien exhaled sharply.

Her lids grew heavy as fierce sensation shot through her, radiating from her lips to spread over her body. The deep yearning to touch her mouth to his skin again became a surprisingly forceful rush of lust through her blood.

Abruptly Bastien leaned forward and deposited her on the seat opposite. With measured movements he secured her seatbelt before seeing to his own.

Ana felt the loss of his warmth as acutely as the loss of air in her lungs. She wanted to lift her fingers to her lips, press them against the tingling to keep it there for a moment longer, but Bastien had his laser gaze fixed on her, was watching her every move, waiting to pounce on any sign of weakness.

Fiercely she reminded herself that she wasn’t weak...that she’d withstood worse. Growing up with a mother like hers had equipped her with a backbone that could endure most things. So what if Bastien seemed to find his way under her armour with minimum effort? She wasn’t about to cower under his formidable personality.

Gathering her composure, she cleared her throat. ‘Thanks for helping me with the paparazzi—although I would’ve have handled it fine on my own.’

He sent her a stony look and settled back in his seat.

‘Explain to me exactly what happened last night,’ he commanded.

She raised her chin. ‘Why? I’m sure you’ve seen the footage on the internet by now. One of your lawyers seemed ecstatic that it was trending on social media.’

One dark blond eyebrow lifted. ‘That’s all you have to say about the situation?’

‘You won’t believe me if I tell you, so what’s the point?’ she snapped, remembering his accusation in the courtroom.

He shrugged. ‘We’ll call this your second chance. You have my undivided attention, so let’s hear it.’

‘You’ve already decided what the truth is, Bastien. You said as much earlier when you referred to my “drug-fogged brain”.’

‘So you do remember that?’ came his reply.

‘Your mind’s already made up, so why should I waste my breath?’

His smile mocked her. ‘Because I want to hear what happened from the horse’s mouth, so to speak.’

A spurt of anger speared through her. But alongside the anger came a small dart of hurt that he didn’t believe her.

She contemplated silence, not dignifying his suspicions with an answer. But just as quickly she dismissed it. He was her boss. Her DBH contract had another month to run before she was finally free to join her father in Colombia. And a major condition of her contract stipulated her propriety and the maintenance thereof. The charges against her had put the DBH ad campaign at serious risk.

Bastien’s presence in London—in court, in this car—made that fact painfully obvious.

He slowly straightened, leaned forward, and rested his hands on his knees without once taking his eyes off her. Ana knew she wouldn’t get away without offering some kind of explanation.

She went with the simple truth. ‘I suffer from asthma.’

He frowned, slate-grey eyes narrowing. ‘I don’t recall reading that in your personnel file.’

‘You mean when you read it once you knew I was the one your management had hired for the campaign and tried to get me fired?’

It was the reason he’d been in Cannes that day. The reason he’d sent everyone away, leaving them alone on the yacht. The reason she’d ended up nearly losing her self-respect...

He didn’t show an ounce of regret. ‘Yes.’

She ignored the sharper dart of pain. ‘Conditions that don’t hamper the execution of my job aren’t listed on my file, and asthma isn’t generally a life-threatening illness. But I have it and I have to manage it, so...’ She shrugged.

Lauren Styles, the owner of her agency, Visuals, and her own personal agent, had been aware of her condition and happy to keep it under wraps unless it hampered her job.

Lauren, once a model herself, was more of a mother to her than her own mother had ever been. Her loyalty and support were faultless. Which was another reason why she couldn’t afford to jeopardise the DBH campaign or clash with its CEO.

‘Go on.’

‘My flatmate, Simone, invited me to her birthday party last night. I don’t normally go to nightclubs because of the artificial smoke and recirculated air—I suffered a bad attack at a club last year. Halfway through the party I began to feel unwell.’

‘Why didn’t you just leave?’ he demanded.

‘I tried to. Simone begged me to stay.’

‘Even though she knew you were ill?’ Scepticism marred his tone.

‘She doesn’t know about my asthma.’

His brows lifted.

‘We’ve only been sharing a flat for two months. Anyway, I went into the cloakroom, splashed some water on my face, and used my inhaler when I got back to my table. I decided to stay for another half-hour. I went to the bar to get a bottle of water. When I returned to my seat the bouncers were waiting for me with the police. They showed me the security camera video, asked if it was me. I confirmed it was.’

Bastien pursed his lips.

‘I didn’t know then what it was all about, okay? They took me outside and asked to search my bag. They found the inhaler, charged me with possession of heroin and here we are.’

Silence cloaked the dark interior of the luxurious car. Outside, sunlight glinted off the buildings of Central London as they edged through the traffic on the Strand. Inside she was as cold as the January freeze they were experiencing. She pulled Bastien’s jacket closer around her. For a few stolen seconds she let the scent of his body suffuse her senses. Then she looked up and found him watching...waiting.

‘What? I’ve told you everything.’

He sat back, settled one ankle over his knee and drummed his fingers on the polished hand-stitched Italian leather. ‘Not quite.’

Her gaze collided with his. Those compelling eyes held her prisoner, sending that familiar hot jolt she experienced every time she looked into those silver depths.

‘I’m pretty sure I have.’

‘I haven’t heard you once deny drug possession.’

‘Of course I’ve denied it. I’ve just told you what really happened.’

‘You give me your version of events, but you haven’t denied being a drug-user.’

She gasped. ‘How dare you?’

He dropped his foot and surged forward until she could see every fleck in his eyes. ‘Oh, I dare very much, Ana. You see, the welfare of my company is dependent on how much I dare. And so far, thanks to you, it’s not doing so well.’

She straightened her spine. She’d done nothing wrong and she was damned if she would cower in fear. ‘Fine. I don’t use drugs. Never have—never will. Satisfied?’

His eyes narrowed. ‘Did you leave your bag unattended at any point during the evening?’ he fired back.

‘I took it with me when I went to the bar but I may not have had hold of it the whole time. Look, I told the police all this.’

‘But my interest in you is far more vested than theirs, so I think I deserve to hear your account, no?’ His voice was soft, deadly.

Ana shivered. He was talking about his company, but she couldn’t help but think back to that one very personal moment they’d shared on his boat. One that brought equal shame and excitement each time she relived it.

Brushing the feeling away, she glared at him. ‘I get that—and, trust me, I want an explanation myself. Don’t forget my reputation is on the line too.’

Not to mention the fact that she was in severe danger of being dropped from 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.’