The Best Of The Year - Modern Romance. Annie West

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СКАЧАТЬ mood, whickered anxiously. ‘Don’t try to psychoanalyse me, Ana,’ he warned softly.

      ‘Because you’re such an enigma?’

      His eyes glittered. ‘On the contrary, I’m a very simple man. I know what I want. I also know when the price is too high for me to pay. I cannot afford you, Ana Duval.’

      With a kick of his horse’s flanks, he surged forward.

      She caught up with him at the stables. ‘What did you mean by that?’

      They both dismounted and he took her reins and stared down at her. ‘You live your life in unabashed emotion. Unbridled passion is great in the bedroom, but in the real world all it does is let you down. I prefer not to become embroiled in the inevitable messy aftermath. Once was enough.’

      ‘Since I don’t recall offering myself to you on a silver platter, I’m assuming your ego is once again in full residence? Or are you just too scared to take a chance on feeling anything other than bitterness for the rest of your life because your belief in love and happiness was shattered once?’

      He inhaled sharply. ‘Love? Don’t confuse love with sex or duty, Ana. Sex has a limited shelf-life and duty is very easy to shirk when it becomes too burdensome.’

      His face contorted into a mask of pain before he exhaled and blinked it away. But that wasn’t before her heart lurched at the stark insight into Bastien’s beliefs.

      ‘Bastien—’

      ‘Chantal will have breakfast ready. Go ahead. I’ll meet you in the dining room shortly.’

      The content, smiling Bastien from the hilltop had disappeared. Impassive, corporate Bastien was back, his face giving nothing away as he led the horses off.

      Ana walked slowly back to the château, Bastien’s words haunting her. Their bleakness lodged a thorn in her heart. Had the events of sixteen years ago affected him so much that he’d shut off his heart completely?

      Wrenching the tie from her ponytail, she speared her fingers through her hair. She had no business feeling sorry for Bastien. Feeling sorry for the fact that he wouldn’t let himself feel, or want, or need. And she absolutely had no business wishing he would feel for her, or want or even need her.

CHAPTER SEVEN

      BASTIEN PUT THE phone down and scrubbed a hand over his face. Three days and his investigators had come up empty. Whoever had framed Ana had covered their tracks very well. The police had reported no fingerprints on the inhaler. Not even Ana’s...

      He frowned.

      He’d seen first-hand the extraordinary measures to which people would go to gain wealth and power. How ruthless and determined people could be.

      Sixteen years ago Lily Duval had set her deadly sights on his father and employed an almost obsessive single-mindedness in order to seduce him away from his wife and rip his family apart.

      And she’d succeeded. That last day in Verbier was for ever etched in his memory—and not just because of his mother’s blotched, tearstained face as she’d pleaded with his father, nor the roar of his father’s car as he’d driven off, a triumphant Lily Duval by his side.

      It was the day his parents had rejected him completely. The day he’d learned to shut off his emotions once and for all.

      The silence especially was what he remembered most. He’d retreated to the icy-cold gazebo, his sanctuary, where he’d known no one would disturb him. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed and then he’d heard his father’s hoarse, frantic call. Seen his ashen face. Watched Lily Duval’s manic rage as she’d seen the life she’d almost attained disappearing.

      Ana’s serene composure had been most shocking of all. She hadn’t even blinked when she’d been been instructed to fetch her things. As if she was used to it...

      The library door opened, wrenching him from his thoughts.

      Ana saw him and faltered. ‘Oh, I thought you were in your study—’ She turned to leave, her willowy figure silhouetted perfectly in the hallway light.

      He’d relocated to the library because of her. The layout of the château had never troubled him until he’d heard her speaking to her father in Spanish in the sitting room next to his study, her smoky voice hypnotic...enthralling.

      Although aware she was half-Colombian, he knew very little about that side of her heritage. Hearing her speak the foreign tongue, the unmistakable excitement in her voice, had made him lose concentration more than once.

      ‘Come in. I need to talk to you.’

      Her trepidation as she stepped into the room grated. Was he that unapproachable?

      She sat and crossed her legs, and he tried not to let his gaze drop. He failed. Her long, shapely legs, bare and lightly tanned despite the time of year, made Bastien’s blood rush a little faster through his veins.

       Get a grip!

      He picked up the file on his desk. ‘My investigators have drawn a blank.’

      Her eyes widened. When she bit her lip, Bastien forced himself not to groan.

      ‘They found nothing at all?’

      ‘It seems not.’

      A look flitted across her face, one she tried hard to mask. Bastien’s suspicions prickled.

      ‘One thing puzzled me, though.’

      Her wary gaze shot to his. ‘What?’

      ‘The police found no fingerprints on the inhaler. Not even yours.’

      She shot up out of her chair, the movement causing her breasts to bounce. His hand tightened on the file.

      ‘What does that mean? You don’t still think I’m lying about this, do you?’

      The hurt in her voice caught him on the raw.

      ‘Calm down. I didn’t say that. What aren’t you telling me, Ana?’

      Her face remained carefully neutral. ‘I’m not following you.’

      He sat back in his chair. ‘You’re holding something back. I don’t want to think the worst—’

      ‘But you’re going to anyway.’

      He shrugged. ‘We both know how irrational women and men can be when they’re fixated on something.’

      She paled and sank back into her chair. Bastien’s earlier niggle of doubt returned...expanded.

      ‘Let me get this straight. You think I’m fixated on you?’ she whispered.

      ‘It’s not beyond the realms of possibility.’

      One shapely brow arched. ‘Really? Is there an app for that? Because I’d like to have one for Christmas.’

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