CHAPTER ONE: HER DOUBLE LIFE

FIVE YEARS LATER…

A frigid cold smile plastered on her face; Anastasia stared at the culprit standing in her line of vision with undisguised disdain. Consideration or pity were not part of her dictionary, so she could not be bothered that the poor man stood completely humiliated in front of her, his head bent in resigned shame. In fact, it gave her a sense of perverse satisfaction to know that she had the power to make that man cower like a worm. She was an unfeeling bitch, she knew – in general models were supposed to have a mean side.

Anyway, she was after all Anastasia Forrester– the queen bee of the contemporary NY fashion world which gave her enough leeway to do anything she wanted. Humility was not her thing. Had been in the past but now she felt better being the proud princess she was. It was life, after all, which had molded her into who she was now, who she was meant to be.

“So, what will it be Mr. Patterson? You have two options. Either you accept that you have stolen the sample from the storeroom and resign or I hand you over to the cops?” she proposed in an uncompromising voice, bestowing him with a glacial look that could freeze hell over.

In a completely melodramatic setting, the entire office was holding its breath, waiting for the offender’s reaction, and Ana had the bitter notion that most of them were probably enjoying the show. What a bunch of losers, she mentally sneered. Regrettably enough, she had turned into a great cynic, believing people to be superlatively selfish; everybody was only bothered about his own loss or profit. This was unfortunately the stark truth. If someone was at a top of a building ready to jump, people would gather like a voyeuristic crowd just to watch while pretending to care.

In a manner to peremptorily intimidate, she drummed her nails impatiently on the table, knowing that the staccato beat would dismantle his feigned regret. Truly enough, the poor guy was actually looking nervous, ready to puke his lunch and she smirked inwardly with sadistic satisfaction. It was not her fault that she endorsed no room for concessions. Life was good to some and bad to the rest. Besides, the hardest way was the best way, wasn’t that what they said? She could teach the hard way alright.

What delighted her was the fact that her whole staff was gawking at her in an awe-struck way, not daring to oppose her even if they believed that fifty years old employee was innocent. It was unfortunate that she needed a scapegoat and Mr. Patterson was regrettably handy at the moment. Frankly, she didn’t care if he was being victimized; her only focus was to resolve her problem as soon as possible. The only way to stop the frequent robberies which had been happening in the warehouse was to designate a victim at random to scare the hell out of everyone.

Still standing with his head bent without a word in his own defense, Mr. Patterson was seriously starting to piss her off with his demureness. She sighed, and mentally rolled her eyes with piqued impatience. Considering the amount of backload which had amassed, she had no time for that kind of prolonged drama. Uncrossing her legs, she got off her chair and sauntered with ease in the direction of the open space, making sure that she was standing in a strategic position before dropping the bombshell.

“As most of you are probably already aware, the theft rate has become alarming following which I had a hidden camera installed there.” There was an audible gasp from her audience and she arched her eyebrows cockily, knowing that it showed confidence. “There’s not only one thief but several of my beloved employees who have had the audacity to take samples from the storeroom without my permission. Like I had already mentioned the last time, I prefer sincerity to fraud. This time, there will be no commiseration from the management level. So, it’s up to you to decide whether you want to resign, or you will wait for me to take actions after the security hands me over the surveillance video.”

With that barely subtle menace firmly asserted, Ana kept her facial expression unyielding before turning her back and signaled Mr. Patterson to get out with an arrogance which would have made her father proud. Before closing the door, she thought a last parting shot would emphasize the impact of her threat.

“Please understand that those who present themselves with an apology will be permitted to resign; the rest will be thrown out without a reference.” Before she slammed the door in her usual imperial style, she sensed a general wave of fear cascading through the crowd. Good, she thought. She liked making her point in such a way that nobody would dare defy her.

With time, she’d devised that there was only one way to achieve an objective; by being merciless and cruel. Within record time, several employees came to confess their “indiscretion”, some with great regrets, some with completely original sob stories, and some with unabashed defiance. Without remorse, she ordered them to hand over their resignation letter by next Monday. Dishonesty was something she refused to take lightly, Angel Agency - AA was already so accommodating over flexible working hours and personal priorities that she could not afford tolerance against fraud.

Inexorably, her lack of compassion created a buzz among her employees, conjectures of every form staring to take place, unfounded gossips blown out of proportions, and she faced them all with her usual impassible coldness. After the fuss died, the open space of the office finally resorted back to what could be called a normal routine, Ana allowed herself to drop the mask and sank against her chair with bone-weariness.

A knock on her office door disturbed her single second of peace, her façade firmly back in place and the door opened to accommodate a flustered looking Mr. Patterson in. A cocked eyebrow in his direction, she waited until the door was firmly closed before she once again let herself to sag in relief against her office chair.

Then, she burst out laughing.

“Ahhh Jeffrey,” she sighed with fatigue, rubbing her eyes with both index fingers. “The next thing you know we’ll be opening a drama company. What a brilliant performance!” she winked at the elderly man in open camaraderie and was rewarded with equal warmth. “I’m really sorry for making you go through that ordeal. Thank you for playing along.”

“No worries, Ana. Anything for you,” he practically beamed at her.

She’d known Jeffrey Patterson from the time he’d been working for her father as the latter’s personal P.A and had been ruthlessly replaced by a tart four years ago. Ana had taken pity on the old man and offered a job in her then newly established agency. Jeffrey had been hesitant at first, but then with a little bit of persuasion from her part, they had formed a perfect team to mount her small business to the zenith it actually was.

When the thefts had become unmanageable, they’d devised a warped strategy to identify some of the culprits. With forced enthusiasm considering her small victory, she showed him the list of offenders. “So far this idea has worked but I am sure there are some recalcitrant who are going to find out that the cameras do not actually exist. Unfortunately, we are not receiving them until later this year so we will have to wait for another two to three months to have them installed.  For the moment I am counting on your discretion and supervision.”

Even before she had finished her sentence, Mr. Patterson was bobbing his head up and down like it was hooked on a spring. Ana authorized a warm smile to spread over her face, an expression she reserved for her close ones only, and nodded back in guise of showing her undying gratefulness, watching the dear friend’s retreating back with a sense of accomplishment.

It would not have been possible for her to grow at such a drastic speed without the help of the few sincere persons she had in her life, and Jeffrey Patterson was one of them. Among one of the top fashion business in NYC, AA was consuming most of her time so much so that she was practically sleeping at her office. Not that she minded in any way; her social life was inexistent anyway. It would seem that she was the only model still in the business who hated being in the limelight, occasionally attending the social gatherings only to build stronger contacts for her agency.

The fact that she was an heiress – a filthy rich one at that – had also helped a lot in the various investments she’d made over the past few years. Three years ago, when she’d inherited her maternal grandfather’s mother, she’d been indecisive about her choices in life. Then, finding herself at a crossroad in her life, it had been difficult for her to move on. After much self-preservation, she had opted to open a business in the fashion industry. Although, she was not a fashion freak, she’d done her degree in Arts and Culture, preferring to venture into safe horizons.

At the beginning, Ana had been the main model for most of her niche garments. Blessed with a perfect body, she was what they called hot. With time, she’d grown accustomed to accepting that she was quite attractive, having inherited her mother’s traits, and the business acumen of her father. At the thought of the latter, she automatically wrinkled her nose in distaste, her good mood fading as fast as it had cropped up. What a pathetic excuse of a man Alastair Forrester was. Seriously, as far as she was concerned, Ana would never forgive him for what he’d done. For the lies.

Chiding herself for once again granting her family to inhabit her mind, she gave herself a mental shake to boost her confidence. It was time to focus. In a few hours, she was supposed to be walking down the runway for the new NY summer collection. Usually, being exposed in front of such a big crowd, facing a phalanx of cameras generated nothing more than passive endurance from her. Dressed like a perfect doll, covered with a multitude layer of make-up, the mannequin who walked the ramp was nothing remotely close to the Anastasia Forrester she was. No, she was worth more than the lifeless wax mannequin, whose only redeeming quality was her attire, not her heart.

Today, however, her heart flipped in her chest with a sense of trepidation, unable to tamper down that uncomfortable lurch. It could not be because of her recent performance at the office, she was used to acting like a bitch in front of the world and it usually did not affect her at all. With a resigned sigh, she cast aside any remnant apprehension, she took a deep breath for the hectic next few hours which was going to follow.

“Hey Aimee baby,” she hailed as she entered her personal make-up room to find her assistant, make-up artist and best friend already getting her things ready for her public appearance. Being the owner had sanctioned scope for certain privileges, which had not been possible at the beginning of her modelling career. What she had hated the most back in those days was to have to get ready within the same confining space as the other models, everyone bickering about each other’s shortcomings, gossiping about every action, always in fierce competition. Having a separate changing room was a small luxury she could afford.

“Hello sugar,” Aimee replied her greeting with her usual buoyancy visible in her smile, as her curls bounced back from her face when she turned to look at her with an austere look – or what she tried to pass as a severe look. Instead, she looked like she was trying too hard which resulted in a forced expression. “You are late. As usual.”

Aimee McKenzie was a wonderful friend simply because she was a magnificent human being. Period. Ultimately, everything in life came down to that – if someone could end up being a superb person, he could achieve anything in life.

Taking her place on her ‘hot seat’ without protest, Ana winked at her with comical effrontery. “You always say I’m so pretty that I never need any make-up.”

“Aha! So now somebody’s getting the big head.” Her playful retort made Ana’s smile widen, her earlier unease fading as the familiar squabbling fall into place. Knowing when she was defeated, Ana raised her hand in total surrender.

“Over to you, ma’am!”

Her blind trust was well-founded when within an hour her reflection in the mirror portrayed the beautiful diva well-known to the world. The one who had nothing in common with the real Ana but whom everyone despised. Even she hated that unfamiliar hardhearted woman who stared back at her with a regal haughtiness.

“You look stunning,” Aimee observed in stage whisper, as her blue eyes glowed with appreciative admiration.

Even as close as they were, Ana had never openly talked about her double personality to her friend. It was too personal for her to confess that she wore a mask because she was afraid of the world. In response to her praise, Ana waved it off with insouciance. “Come off it! You know I look like this only after you weave your magic on me. It’s all the effect of your craft.”

Unsuspecting of her friend’s demons, Aimee beamed with pleasure at the compliment, and Ana knew that her words were accepted so readily only because she was used to giving unnecessary flatteries. “I so wish you would wear the yellow dress Sunflower I designed,” Aimee suggested her voice wistful.

That earned a frown from Ana. “Are we going to have that discussion over and over again?”

She usually hated refusing her friend, but the dress Aimee had mentioned, albeit being a knockout, was quite difficult to pull off. Considered to be her favorite creation till date, Aimee had given her hundred and one reasons to model in the dress, but Ana did not have the gall to wear it. It was so sexy that it would cause unnecessary conjectures, especially among the media who already depicted her as a two-timing whore.

“I know,” the designer replied sulkily in her manipulative puppy expression. “You should stop being such a prude and F.Y.I it’s not that revealing by the way. If it’s translucent, I agreed that you could wear a camisole underneath, I even got you something in the same shade. Even the length is decent since you’re not as tall as the other models, it reaches until your knees.”

Ana wanted to roll her eyes at the presentation of so many appeals, but she feared her fake eyelashes might just fall, so she resisted. She was 5’5” – her height was just enough to enable her to register as a model, but the fact she liked most was that some dresses appeared to be longer on her. In her earlier modeling days when she’d no choice over her appearances, it had occasionally happened that she had to wear clothes she had not been comfortable in. Thankfully, she’d never been the showstopper, or an over-ambitious model and she’d managed to skip bikini shoots or extremely revealing clothes.

It was not that she was a prude like Aimee was proclaiming, but she felt really ill-at-ease putting her flesh on display when she knew that everyone hated her with all their might. God knew what kind of speculations they would conjure, even when they did not matter, she preferred avoiding vulgar exposures.

The problem with the Sunflower was the fact that aside from being semi-transparent, the décolleté was so low-cut that it would surely expose the valley between her breasts.

“Aim, you know why I walk the ramp don’t you?” she re-iterated in a bored voice, having repeated the same line a million times with her.

“I know, I know,” Aimee replied eagerly. “Only for charity. When you’re part of the show, the money for the fund gets higher. No wonder Ana, most people are here to watch you, not my collections.”

This time Ana did roll her eyes. “Don’t undermine yourself like that, please! Let’s go now. I want some moments to relax before it’s my cue.”

She realized she had revealed too much of herself only a second too late judging from the puzzled look her friend shot at her. Ana tried to put her fake smile in place but failed miserably. Flustered, she tried a casual shrug but knew she was not fooling her long-time friend an iota. Thankfully, Aimee dropped her shocked expression, and did not pursue the subject. An aptitude Ana greatly appreciated. Aimee never pried and was no push-over. Well, except for that damned yellow dress.

“O.M.G Anastasia, it’s not even your time yet. You still have ten minutes. Why are you out of your room so early? Is something wrong?”

That came from Riley, the main organizer who was famous for freaking out over the slightest issue, fanned himself with grand hand gestures rendering Ana even more apprehensive. Goosebumps puckered on her skin and she had to swallow twice to soothe the dryness around her throat.

“Nothing’s wrong” she replied in a calm tone which completely belied her inner turmoil. “I am just making sure that everything is working out fine. You, of all people should know how much benefit we’re reaping from this show.”

There! That seemed to instantly calm Riley down, like she’d had waved a magic wand in his direction. In certain person’s case, the mere mention of money could act as a miracle.

Only a few close ones knew that the majority of the profit margin went into charity. Aside from keeping her business afloat and investing into new ventures when the need arose, she donated the rest to charitable organizations. It was insane how much certain were willing to pay just to attend her show, and she made the best of it.

However, she did not need the money – God knew she already had so much that sometimes she wondered how she could be so privileged while some lived abjectly destitute lives. It was so unfair. In an attempt to balance the bigoted system, she provided some of her funding to homeless children to help them lead a better life. She was no altruist, she felt it to be more like a justice to help them. Besides, she was not very sure she was helping as only distributing money could not be the actual solution. Who better than her to know that money could not buy happiness?

A tentative squeeze on her shoulders broke her out of her philosophical thoughts, and she half turned to gaze into a pair of familiar blue eyes wearing a worried expression. “Relax, Ana,” her friend smiled at her in a reassuring way. “Don’t think of the show. Say, are you going to Kevin’s party afterwards?”

At the mention of Kevin, Ana found her mouth automatically being drawn into a cheerful smile, all cynical thoughts evaporating. Only her best friend could lift her spirits and dismantle her bad mood right now.

“I would not miss it for anything in the world,” she replied back her voice softening at the thought of the splendid time she was going to have tonight. “He’s been so excitedly harping about his birthday for one whole month.”

“Right,” Aimee agreed in a matter-of-fact voice, and Ana figured it had been a rhetorical question. There was no question of whether she was going to attend the party, Aimee knew that much. It was just her way to divert her mind to the coming event. “Just don’t let Jennifer get a miff about the fact that you’re skipping the Dominez party. You know she’ll do a number on you.”

Only half listening, Ana gave an absent-minded nod, not really caring how Jennifer Reed, her PR would react if she was found missing at the grand event of the night. In the modeling circles, it was all that mattered: parties, aesthetics and outer beauty. Ana hated every bit of that fake world. She preferred to spend the rest of her night celebrating Kevin’s birthday, and the plan was to make a quick getaway after her last appearance. It was risky, but she would not miss the birthday, she’d already promised Kevin that she’d be there at any cost.

Riley signaled her from the main backstage, and her heart lurched frantically against her chest as she got her cue. What was wrong with her tonight, she wondered succinctly, as she tried to steady her erratic heart by placing a hand over her breasts. A surge of familiar restlessness took over, and she begun to have a really bad premonition. It was after five years that she’d experienced such intense reaction, she only felt that way in front of him.

Without warning, she felt her body surge forward with the help of a gentle push, and in a blink the flashes of the cameras around blinded her. On automaton, she reacted like she’d been trained to, plastering a frozen smile and paused for effect before starting her catwalk, already meshing in her comfort zone. Except that her initial hunch was more pronounced than ever, and a sense of dread gripped her as she approached her audience, even if she did not permit her unease to reflect on her outward stance.

When she reached the end of the stage, for a fleeting second, she nearly faltered. Her five years of modeling helped her recover quickly, maintaining an impassible expression while her posture remained unchanged as she stopped for the display. Without reacting, she turned around and more cameras flashed on her, making her feel terribly sick. Had it been a figment of her imagination? She desperately tried to calm herself down, not daring to have a second look in case she might have a seizure. What would the great Devin Richard Crighton be doing here? It was only a mirage; he would never attend her show. Even as she tried million persuasive self-preserving techniques, she knew she was only fooling herself. He was sitting right there.

Like a moth drawn to a flame, her eyes surreptitiously roamed in his direction again, and the green-hazel pair of eyes which met hers were unmistakable. They were the most beautiful eyes she’s ever seen and in them were the ugliest expressions she’d always read. Contempt and disgust. It did not affect her; in fact, it gave her immense pleasure when he raised his eyebrows in bewilderment when she met him with equal frost. Ana could tell that he had not been expecting that challenge. Why would he? The Ana he’d known had always bestowed him with open admiration and hero-worships gazes. In a very subtle gesture, she even managed a contemptuous nod in his direction, snickering disparagingly when he nodded back with the same animosity.

It was only when she was behind stage that she unleashed the emotions with free reign. The catapult of her reaction was so powerful that she started to shiver uncontrollably, and Aimee immediately brought her to her room without any word. Her mind was numb with shock, and she only knew she had been offered water when the liquid went down her throat.

“Are you alright?” her friend queried anxiously, and Ana nodded with more vigor than necessary. Needing a few seconds alone, she asked Aimee to replace her next appearance by another model before she could recover from the shock.

When she was finally given some privacy, she hyperventilated, eyes prickling with unshed tears as memories came flooding back. Irritated with herself, she wiped away a drop of tear fiercely with the back of her hand and blinked back every drop of moisture. She refused to grant that bastard any more power over her. The show must go on.

Emerging from the room with her mask firmly on, she was just in time to prepare for her next appearance, having missed only one entrance. Determined not to let that man turn her into a mass of quivering female, she glowed in her performance, completely ignoring the piercing gaze she could feel from the audience. Knowing that her attitude would displease him, she felt immensely satisfied when she managed her next walk without another eye contact.

On the third appearance, however, her eyes involuntarily flickered in his direction for the merest second, and when she read triumph in those brooding scrutiny, she wanted to slap him. He was mocking her for not having the self-restraint to look away from him. It felt like a blow to her, and before she could stop herself she flinched in a telltale reaction. And was awarded with a Cheshire smile from him.

Fuming with wrath, Ana continued her walk with her head held high without batting an eyelash, but she knew she’d lost the mind game. As soon as she got backstage again, she flung aside her dress, and barked with unconcealed impatience. “Aimee, get me the Sunflower. NOW!”

Whatever protest her friend was about to make died on her lips when Ana glanced at her with the most despotic expression, which brooked no further argument.

How dared he? How dared he??! Ana was going to show that bastard that she was no longer that stupid woman who did the fatal mistake of falling for him. Why was he even here? If he wanted to make amends, then he was five years too late. By the look of it, she really doubted that. The disdain his eyes beheld had nothing to do with a remorseful Devin she’d assumed he would portray whenever they were face-to-face again.

For the past five years, she’d played that scenario of their reunion in her head so many times that she’d thought she’d covered every possible setting possible. But never had she imagined that he would still hate her, still scorn her when she’d been the victim. Memories she’d blocked threaten to swamp her, but she resisted fiercely. She refused to regress back to the desolate state she’d been five years ago. She’d moved on from that – the proof was that she was now a full-fledge businesswoman, not a love-struck near teenager.

Surviving Devin Crighton’s chapter had forged her into the strong woman she was today, the one who did not give a damn about what the world thought of her, only keeping focus on things which mattered to her. She could survive anything– that was her motto, the thing which had kept her alive when life had done its best to bring her down. No one had even been there for her. Not her father. Not her grandfather. Not even the one whom she had considered to be the soulmate who would cure all her pain.

“Ana, the Sunflower is here,” Aimee announced in a hesitant voice. “Are you sure?”

“Bring it on,” she replied assertively, glad that the unequivocal tone of her voice did not falter.

The end result was so satisfactory that Ana stood looking at her own reflection in shock. The silk material of the dress clung to her body like a second skin, showing off her hourglass figure to its full advantage. Aimee had so cleverly designed it that even with the undergarment, it still portrayed the illusion of being sexily translucent. The prolonged décolleté rendered her breasts curvier, outlining the treasure underneath like an exotic promise, without actually showing anything.

“Aimee,” she breathed in awe.

“I know,” the latter replied in an I-told-you-so tone. “Don’t say a word. Go knock them dead baby doll.”

As soon as she made her entrance, she heard a consensus murmur of appreciation from the crowd, which managed to boost her confidence. She loved to string along the world, especially when they were completely wrong about her.

This time, she met him with open challenge, eye to eye, and was pleased when his Adam apple bobbed up and down as his gaze roamed on her. With relish, she made her catwalk like a professional, and everyone were whispering approvingly among themselves.

Nobody knew how affected she was. Nobody knew that her heart was beating out of rhythm. Nobody knew that the mere sight of that man brought such anguish to her. Because she was after all Anastasia Forrester, the ice princess playing her character so well that she was fooling the entire world. Except herself.