breakfast table. Her heart sank as he followed her movement.
The temperature in the room dropped another degree. âOf course you have. Did you salivate over it before or after you had your breakfast?â
âExcuse me?â
He ignored her outrage. âHow much are the tabloids paying you for this?â
âWhat? Youâre insane if you think I had something to do with this!â
âSo you deny you had anything to do with this rubbish?â
âAbsolutely I do,â she stressed.
âThen tell me what you were hatching with your flatmate on the tarmac yesterday.â
Anaâs mouth dropped open. No words emerged and she knew her guilt was stamped on her forehead. Belatedly, she tried damage limitation. âSeriously, it was nothing like thatââ
âDo you take me for a fool?â
âOnly if you believe everything you read in the paper!â The volatility of her words hit home the moment they left her lips. She surged on, regardless. âBastien, think about this. What could I possibly have to gain by pulling this stunt?â
He crumpled the paper and tossed it down on the nearby coffee table. It missed and landed on the floor.
Slowly, with the precision of an Alpine wolf on a blood trail, he stalked her until he stood so close she could see the pulse leaping in his temple, smell the mixture of fury and his unique masculine scent.
Nothing promised an upside to this situation.
âRight now you need someone to fight your corner. Who better than the CEO of the company thatâs about to turf you out on your ass?â
She stared back, unable to look away from the hypnotic intensity of his eyes. âSo youâve decided, then?â
âAfter this stunt Iâd be a fool not to cut you loose,â he replied.
âBelieve what you will. I had nothing to do with this article, whatever it says.â
His eyes narrowed. âYouâre now pretending you donât
know
its contents?â
Realising what sheâd almost let slip, she pursed her lips. Besides her father, whoâd been horrified when sheâd finally confessed her secret and immediately fought to make things right, and her mother, whoâd been the cause of it, no one else knew.
âI stopped reading any stuff written about me a long time ago.â The lie made her cringe, but it was way better than the shameful truth. âMaybe if you tell me which part so concerns you I can address it.â
Bastienâs brows slowly lifted, incredulity darkening his eyes to gunmetal. âWhich part so concerns me? Letâs seeâhow about the part that suggests weâve been lovers for the best part of six months? No, actually, that doesnât concern me too muchâalthough it suggests I donât mind sharing my woman with other men. Or how about the part where it states that I let you use my personal yacht for drug-fuelled parties? Or maybe the bit that says I came to your rescue yesterday because you could be carrying my child? And the soundbites in which your flatmateâSimone?âcongratulates us on our impending nuptials were a genius touch. I must commend you on that. It ties everything up in a nice little bow,
non
?â
Shock careened through her as the oxygen left her lungs. Some of these paparazzi were in a class of their own, but even Ana couldnât believe theyâd come up with such a preposterous story overnight.
She looked up, ready to defend herself, and saw his gaze fixed on the picture. âI had no hand in any part of that story. But thatâs not whatâs bothering you, is it?â
âExcusez moi?â
âThe picture bothers you way more than the article.â
Bastienâs gaze iced over. âYouâre in danger of stepping way over the line.â
âWhy? Because this picture shows you looking at me as if you care? As if I get to you where no one else can?â
To the untrained eye he looked as most