CHAPTER FOUR: THE FUNERAL

There she was. Finally! Bloody stubborn woman! To have reached on time, she must have left at twilight, and must be wired from the long drive. What kind of woman refused the luxury of his private jet to face the rough ride of the road? A foolish one? Or one who wanted to avoid his company at all cost, a conniving voice inside him taunted.

What the hell had taken over him to suggest that she flew with him anyway? He was supposed to be keeping his distance, bid his time until he got back his due, not warming up to her like old times. That era of sham was gone, their enmity no longer masked, and he knew better than to expect mercy from her. Wasn’t that what he’d wanted after all? That she hated him with the same ardor as him? For someone who was supposed to hate her, he was clearly not excelling at the job.

Now that he felt no longer coerced to pretend to like her, there was a significant layer of protection and self-preservation which was conspicuously missing. That void left him raw and exposed vis-à-vis the mixed feeling he experienced in her regard.

Unwillingly, his eyes darted in her direction yet again trying to seek her out from the crowd. Last night, having inhaled the subtle scent of her floral perfume, he’d been doomed to realize that he still desired her but equally ecstatic to discover that she was not as immune as she was letting on. Her pupils had dilated with desire when he’d closed on her, her lips parted automatically in reaction to his closeness. It had been a mistake on his behalf, but nobody needed to know that. He wasn’t here to reconcile with her, far from that.

Not that she would forgive him even if he begged, of that he was sure that Anastasia would never relent, being the kind of person who hated even more passionately than she loved. It had been after all what he’d intended when he’d left her behind without a backward glance. When his perfectly well-laid plan had fallen apart, he’d seen no other way than to tear her apart, trying to lash out in the dark like a wounded animal.

What surprised him was that she did not appear to be forlorn at the death of her father, just an unwavering presence standing ramrod straight among the crowd, almost like she was performing a duty. He was not here to mourn the dead person as well. God knew he hated the man enough to have murdered him with his bare hands had it not been considered a crime. But he would have expected Anastasia to have broken down by now.

Instead, she stood regal in her pristine black dress, which instead of toning down her beauty somehow managed to accentuate it. Black had always been her color, emphasizing the white perfection of her skin, and highlighting the cyan blue of her eyes. Not that they were visible under the huge shades she was wearing, the rest of her face rigidly stony so that he was unable to make out whether she was actually dejected about her father’s demise.

Apart from the family lawyer Miller, Anastasia had not even bothered to greet anyone, not even her half-sister. From the few information he’d managed to extract from her during their brief relationship, he’d learned she was not close to her sibling, but aside from that he’d never been able to gather more material about her family. Even Melissa had been kept from him, like he was someone she’d guarded with fierce protectiveness, and to some extent he’d understood her reluctance when the half-sister had tried to seduce him, something which had not gone too well with him.

Eventually, frustrated from her reticence to share information, Dev had to hire a private investigator to achieve his objective. To get information about his ancestor’s house, the one Alastair Forrester had stolen from his mother. Ashford mansion had been a family mansion belonging to his maternal parent for centuries, and he wanted it back at all cost, not for its monetary values, but because of the sentiments attached with the house.

No, he wasn’t here to grieve the dead man, he was here to finish what he’d started five years ago. Extract his revenge for his mother. Maybe, then he would find some sort of reprieve from his sordid past, which would empower him to move on in life instead of being surrounded by so many nightmares.

The shocking truth of his life was that his mother Eleanor Ashford Crighton had had an affair during her marriage with Ana’s father Alastair Forrester. He’d been only twelve when the fling had started, behind both his and his father’s back to only end in tragedy. With tight lips, he remembered the lies which had inexorably been woven, the way he’d been neglected as a child, and the only reason behind was that his own mother had been so enthralled by her lover that she could no longer see sense.

It had only been after two whole years that the affair had been exposed, Richard Crighton his father had been crushed and humiliated to discover his wife’s treachery. Even then, he’d been willing to forgive her, forget about the whole nightmare for the sake of his only son. For his sake. His dear mother had refused categorically, proclaiming herself deeply in love with her lover had packed her things to leave them behind without a backward glance.

That wretched night had been a deep revelation to a fourteen-year-old boy. Even if he’d not understood every detail then, he’d be overwhelmed with guilt that his mother - the only person who was supposed to love him unconditionally, could walk away without a single consideration for him. Was he that unlovable? It had taught him a fundamental lesson: women were not to be trusted at any cost. Now with hindsight, he could only pity the woman, not knowing whether to condemn her for having been too weak or to curse her for having been influenced by a bastard like Alastair.

After that vile man had discovered that his mistress had left her multi-millionaire husband, he’d been incandescent with rage, furious with her for having caused him such a huge loss. Too stunned to comprehend, Eleanor had begged her lover to reconsider, to forgive her, to take her back. Alastair had mocked her, and finally revealed his true character, that he’d been after her only for her money, congratulating himself for having thankfully managed to usurp her share from her family’s side. Then that sorry excuse of a man had dumped his mother without remorse to marry his childhood sweetheart Melanie.

Plagued with the worst kind of betrayal, Eleanor had committed suicide.

Whether his mother had cheated or not, that man had no rights to pilfer money from her and treat her like trash. Devin would never forgive his mother for her faults, but the fact remained was that Alastair was the one who kept on living while Eleanor was dead in the most atrocious fashion.

At the age of fourteen, afflicted deeply with the loss of his mother, Dev had vowed that he would avenge the latter. Alastair had two daughters, and he’d sworn to replicate history with one of them, to make the bastard feel the same agony Dev had experienced when finding his mother’s dead body. So, his quest had begun at an early age, while other teenagers had been attending parties and enjoying their childhoods, his had been filled with bitterness and anguish, plotting against his enemy.

His father, lost in his own grief had retreated into a shell, never recovering from his wife’s betrayal. Two years later, when Dev had finally come to fact with the truth of his pathetic life, his father had suffered a deadly heart stroke. On his deathbed, he’d expressed genuine regret for not having been able to save his family and had asked him to avenge his mother by getting back her possessions. Eyes bloodshot with purpose, Dev had vowed to restore his mother’s lost honor, in terms of enticing one of Alastair’s beloved daughters to have a bargaining power.

The daughter had to be of eligible age, on Anastasia’s twentieth birthday, his long-awaited endurance finally paid off when his detective had informed him of a clandestine holiday in Italy. It had been the perfect setting to woo the unsuspecting daughter and hold all the right cards until he would face his sworn enemy.

Following her to Milan had all been part of his grandiose plan, book a room near to hers, patiently waiting for her to make her first appearance at the bar, sending her heated looks to display his overt interest. He was pleased to find the woman exactly as he’d expected: self-centered and brazen enough to pick up on his dallying.

On that first meeting, Dev had felt nothing for her other than pure contempt, her love-struck expression obvious enough to make him sick. She had failed to make a good first impression, or was it because his mind was already filled with so much hate that he’d been inadvertently blinded?

But the thing was that back then he’d acted with his head, not with his libido. Years of hatred and depression had forged him to blot out any emotion or weakness surrounding him. He’d been a first-row witness to how a man could be devastated by a woman in the form of his own father and had vowed not to let history repeat itself. Heart as hard as a chip of diamond, he’d been angry when Miss Forrester had dismissed him casually with a ‘see you around, when he had been having second thoughts about his devious plan.

So angry that he had grabbed her and invited her for dinner out of pure male indignation. How dared she cast him aside like someone insignificant when he could read all the right signs? From then on, there had been no going back – his mind was made up.

“Hazel…,” he’d greeted her with the perfect sensual intonation in his voice and was surprised to discover that she was blushing. Who reddened in the twenty-first century? Again, he had hesitated. Anastasia Hazel Forrester had always been an enigma to him in the past. Instead of wearing a skimpily sexy dress as he’d anticipated, she wore a simple floral white dress which was in complete contrast with her unabashed personality on their first encounter. Shoulder length hair loose around her, with a minimal trace of make-up on her pristine face, she’d looked every bit virginal in her attire.

An illusion, he was sure. No daughter of Alastair would remain untouched. Was she also a partner in Daddy’s con scheme? Did she also know how to entice rich men, how to sell her body to the highest bidder in return for corporate favors or money usurpation?

Her conflicting personality seemed to hint towards that possibility, for why would she lie about her own name if she did not have a hidden agenda? He knew that she was called Ana by her family and friends, had set a sleuth on her to gather maximum information before going for the kill. However, the Forresters guarded their privacy to such an extent that it had been as difficult as extracting oil from a coconut. No wonder, since they had so many secrets that they had to bury themselves under layers of protection.

“Dev…,” she responded back hesitantly, and when he engulfed her small hand in his, a slight tremor ran through her, making her eyes slumberous as she watched him coyly. Bending to drop a light kiss on her extended palm, the moment his lips touched her skin, he felt an electric jolt zinged through him. Shocked, he dropped the hand like it was a bombshell, and hastily pulled out a chair for her to hide his distress.

Furious with himself for having reacted to her, Dev buried his head under the menu with the pretext that he was finding it hard to decipher the Italian menu, glancing at her from time to time to find her playing with her hair, pretending to be waiting patiently for him to choose.

“Confused?” she finally asked when the silence stretched between them, lengthening to the extent of making him look impolite. “Here, let me,” she took the large card from his hand, and bent towards the large selection, helpfully proposing the food selection.

He picked up his cue. “You seem to know your way around. I have difficulty to believe that it’s your first trip to Milan,” he questioned, indirectly accusing her of having lied to him earlier before, waiting to see how she reacted. Maybe if he provoked her enough, he would show her real face.

“It’s my first trip abroad actually,” she finally revealed, after seeming to be in conflict with herself. He was sure she was lying now. The way she hesitated every time before speaking was a dead giveaway, but he smiled politely willing the chill inside his heart not to surface to his eyes.

“A gift from Daddy, I reckon?” he questioned, going straight to the point. The more information he gathered about the Forresters, the better he would serve his vengeance when the right time came.

The mere mention of her father switched off the light in her eyes, and her smile froze on her lips, the action so instantaneous that it felt like he’d pressed an off button. Eyes shuttered, she swirled her Margarita with the straw, seeming to concentrate on the task like it was something captivating while he knew she was bidding for time, to weave another lie most probably.

“I’m actually on holidays,” she managed after a long pause, then looked up at him, hands resting under her chin as she loomed towards him in a suggestive posture. “What about you, Dev?”

Blue eyes studied him from under her thick luscious eyelashes, with an amount of wisdom which left him wary. Had she guessed his intent? Was his obscure mood an exposure of his intentions? Switching on his charm, he flashed her with what his lovers called a deadly smile, and focused his full devotion on her, knowing that women liked being the center of attention.

“I’m here on business,” he responded casually, like he did not have a care in the world, while his heart picked up pace when she continued to assess him with a mixture of longing and hero-worship, which made him gulp in an uncomfortable way. Could she be more obvious? “But I am used to mixing business with pleasure.”

Her smile fazed again. “Really? I have no doubt about that,” she answered coolly, and remained silent during the rest of the dinner.

Puzzled, Dev pondered over what could have offended her – for she certainly looked miffed with him for having openly admitted that it was a fling he was looking for. She was a complete puzzle to him, for he usually felt no difficulty reading other people, in fact he prided himself to be an expert at that.

Chin raised in open displeasure, she refused dessert with equal aloofness, leaving him intrigued when she insisted on paying her share. What the hell was she playing at? Or more so, why was she acting like an offended girlfriend at the prospect of an impending break-up? Hadn’t a fling been what she had been after?

Cold realization settled in his chest as he figured he must have underestimated Forrester’s daughter. No, she must have sensed that he was a good catch and was hankering for a more serious relationship with him. After all, it wasn’t every day that she met up with billionaires like himself, was it? No, she was not trying to con him, instead she was on the verge of trapping him! Damn he hadn’t seen that coming.

Clearing his throat, he insisted on footing the bill which she consented with great reluctance, and he had to admire her acting skills. That woman deserved an award for the effortless way she seemed to mesh in the character she was playing. And what was that? He found himself wondering as he walked her to her room, in brooding silence.

A virginal sincere woman, on the lookout of a serious relationship.

Dev wanted to know how long she would be able to resist his charms, he knew that once he upped his appeal, she would drop the act and give in. When he reached her door though, she thanked him politely, refused him coffee, and was about to make a disappearing act when he blocked her escape by moving between her and her door.

Tucking back a tendril of hair behind her ears, in a tender gesture he smiled down at her, with a purposeful intent on his gleaming eyes. “Dinner was nice. What about showing me around Milan tomorrow?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know my way around here. The hotel is organizing a group trip and I was planning to join them,” she announced, and it did not go unnoticed that she’d refrained from inviting him. Damn, she was good! “Well, I guess it’s goodnight.”

“Wait!” he cried desperately, and before he could rethink his strategy, he bent to take possession of her lips. It was a light kiss, not meant to explore or arouse anything in her, but only to transfer a certain level of affection. It seemed to do the trick, her eyes glazed over with a dark color, and she stared at him in breathless anticipation.

It was that beseeching look which undid him. He decided then and there that if he had to marry her, he would ahead with it just to attain his goal. “Wait for me here tomorrow,” he instructed gently, before freeing her and watched her fumbling with her keys to get inside her room without agreeing to his order. But he knew she’d be there the next day, waiting for him with God knew what other expectations from him.

Completely lost in the past, Dev jerked back to the present when a hail resonated in the desolate cemetery area, and he felt not in the least mortified to not having been paying any attention. Who the hell was shrieking like a banshee? A quick look in her direction showed Ana’s demeanor unchanged, as she collected the condolences with a composed grace.

The mad woman who was tearing herself apart, in complete hysterics was the half-sister Melissa. With some twisted irony, Devin found himself hoping that she was not the one inheriting his mansion as the thought of marrying that made him wince with disgust.

Five years ago, faced to a professional shark as Alastair, he’d failed to achieve his purpose, when at the last minute the latter had turned everything against him. That was why he was back when the demon was finally dead. He would strike a deal with whatever daughter had inherited the mansion, starting with an enormous fat check, or anything else if that eventually didn’t work. However slim his chances seemed with Ana, he would prefer to deal with her instead of that virago of her querulous sister was proving to be.

Out of the whole Ashford heritage, only the mansion remained as the shares of his mother in Ashmart Ltd had been dissolved into cash, when a merger had been carried out by Alastair. It had been a proposed merger to the world, but a hostile take-over to Dev as he’d been aware through the employees that Eleanor had lost her sixty percent shares to him by sighing a forged document.

It had all been gobbled by the Forrester Empire, the rest of his loss not actually tangible as it was nearly impossible to get Ashmart back to its former glory. Alastair Forrester was a parasite, destroying everything in his wake, and in retaliation, Dev had been buying shares from Forrester Empire under an anonymous identity. So far, he’d brought seven percent with great difficulty, not good enough but still a start.

He was damned if he would let Alastair win now, especially after his death. The tables had turned now, if he’d been unable to dismantle him from his powerful position when the latter had been alive, Dev would make a mincemeat of his two living daughters. Even if it took him a lifetime, he would destroy whatever his enemy achieved gradually to restore his lost honor. Stopping now would be like losing seventeen years of his life for nothing. Years of hatred, anguish and humiliation. He owed it to the memories of his parents.

It did not matter how much cash he would lose in the process; it had never been a question of money ever since the beginning, unlike Alastair. He certainly was not mercenary like the damned man. No, it was about restoring a wrong. Try as he might, he could not undo the past, but he refused to let his mother’s murderer escape scot free.

Granted that his mother had made the mistake of cheating on his father, but nobody deserved to be so savagely deceived by a conniving bastard. To him, his mother would have at least been alive had Alastair not ridiculed her so openly after depleting all her cash. Although it was undeniable that Eleanor had committed suicide, she’d been forced to take her own life due to that evil man’s cruelty.

Melissa was making quite a spectacle out of herself by now, starting to act rudely to the guests and Dev suspected she might be high. Not essentially with grief but also with some heady substance. Puzzled, he watched as Ana completely ignored her sister, smiling serenely at those who engaged a conversation with her, but remaining curiously aloof from the family crowd. Not that there was a huge group of people in the ceremony, only a few business acquaintances and close friends, but no one actually mingled with Ana.

Curious, Dev could not help wondering the reason why she was not helping her sister, or even sharing her grief. Why would she be cast aside like a stranger? He knew they did not share the same mother, but he had no idea about who her other parent was. From his research, there was absolute secrecy about her mother, whether she was still alive, but Dev knew that she was not Alastair’s legal daughter. The devil had been married only thrice, first two marriages to filthy rich heiresses with no offspring from either commitment. From what he’d gathered from her, Ana was the result of an affair, and had been grateful of Melanie to have accepted her in their household.

Most probably, that was the reason why she was being treated like an outsider, she was the bastard not the legal heir. Devin winced and shuddered at the thought of having to marry that brat, for if it was required of him, he was willing to make the ultimate sacrifice in order to finally attain his goals.

By the time, Melissa’s eyes had become as huge as a pair of saucers, mascara smudged down her eyelids, giving her the look of a witch. “Please don’t take me away from his grave. Let me be with him. Bury me with him forever,” she was crying, flinging her body on the grave as Jeremy Miller caught her just in time.

“Melissa, control yourself,” the lawyer reprimanded as he would have done to a fifteen-year-old girl. “Let’s go!”

“Nooo,” she screamed, and Jeremy found himself dragging her unwillingly out of the courtyard, signaling two other bodyguards to help him throw her bodily in the car. Just before she was coerced into the vehicle, she stopped with eyes full of venom in the direction of Ana.

Det threw another surreptitious glance at Ana to check whether her control was intact, not even a single drop of tear had been shed in the memory of her beloved father. She stood standing with her head bent in complete dignified silence with none of her grief apparent on her plastic face, not even when she got the Medusa stare from her sister.

“What the hell is she doing here at the funeral? I made sure the news of the death was not leaked to the media just because I didn’t want to see her.”

To her credit, Ana did not react at all, the large goggles still concealing most of her face, she stood with her chin raised in a familiar defiant posture, something he was starting to read as her defense mode.

“Melissa don’t be silly. She is your sister,” Jeremy was desperately trying to calm her down with words, but even he could see how inebriated she was.

“Nooo. Just tell her to get the hell out of here. She has never been part of our family, she’s not welcome here.”

At the lawyer’s nod, the guards forced Melissa’s head into the car, whatever insults she’d been ready to inflict came out muffled, which left Dev even more titillated. He was not really surprised to have the living proof that Ana was not much liked by her sister, he’d picked up the vibes when he’d been engaged to her. What bothered him was the fact that he’d chosen the wrong sister. It would have been easier duping that spoilt brat instead of the more authentic Ana. Still her father must have loved her significantly to bring her, his bastard child in his household at the risk of losing his own family.