CHAPTER TWO: THE ENCOUNTER

Anastasia Hazel Forrester had been a stunner in her early twenties, in her prime womanhood, she was a total knockout. Devin knew he was a goner the moment he laid eyes on her walking down the runway unaware of him. Her presence on stage shone through like a ray of sunshine after a long period of overcast weather. Aside from a complete make-over, her expression was cold and impassible, so unlike the Ana he’d known five years ago. To think that he was the one who’d transformed her into that version of virago caused a small constriction in the region where his heart was supposed to be. Even if he hated her. Still hated her vehemently, with every fiber of his being.

Their association in the past had taught him that she was a spoilt and self-centered little brat, who venerated her father endlessly. That was her only unpardonable crime, but she didn’t need any other incrimination considering who her father was. With a sneer, restless anticipation poured in his veins, unable to keep his attendance unknown any longer. At that precise moment, like she was attuned to his mood, her blue chips homed into his with mutinous challenge.

Surprise was too weak a word to describe the way he felt to discover that she’d grown some substance, when before she’d been meek and over-enthusiastic – which had been merely a smokescreen of course. Adrenaline kicked in with reaction, and he returned her smirk with a facsimile of his own, his insolent gaze staring impudently with the intent to insult. Whatever genuine admiration he felt for her for keeping her front was carefully hidden, as they stared at each other with blatant hostility, the atmosphere laden with tension. Inwardly, he was forced to appreciate her gusto though. Nothing changed in her outer demeanor, nobody could even guess that she was seeing her ex-fiancé after five years - the one who had betrayed her by not showing up at the altar.

When she purposefully ignored him on her next appearances, his ego took a huge dent that she could manage to remain unfazed. With much difficulty and an age-old self-restraint, he resisted the urge to fidget in his seat, a childish attempt to get her attention. He’d vowed to himself that he wouldn’t allow her to get to him this time. However, his iron-clad control slithered when her gaze transiently wandered in his direction, and all his resolve evaporated when he bestowed her with an evil smile, damning himself for letting her get under his skin.

It’d been five bloody years, damn it! How could that chit of a woman still have the capacity to crumble his façade, be the only one who got through his defenses like they were sand instead of concrete? It was a small consolation to know that Ana also felt the same fatal attraction as him, the sexual tension between them was too tangible to disregard.

This time, though, he was forearmed with the knowledge of her selfish nature, and with five years of distance between them, he refused to fall in her trap a second time. He was no horny teenager who could not outplay a bout of lust – he was a powerful business magnate, son the great Richard Michael Crighton. There was no way he would permit himself to become putty in the hands of a mere woman, not when he’d witnessed how destructive that race could be. As his past caught up, he literally felt the mastery of his self-discipline strengthen. He would show no pity to Ana – Anastasia this time. It was better if his mind conjured her as Anastasia, it felt less intimate.

However, he was unprepared for what happened next, all his resolutions disintegrated like dust when her next appearance set the stage on fire, rising the heat several notches. Any idea about keeping cool indifference flew out of the window like smoke when she waltzed around in a flimsy yellow dress which barely extended beyond her thighs, exposing her gorgeous toned legs. On top of that, the way she was flaunting her cleavage left little to imagination, with every male eye were glued to her chest with devouring appreciation.

Without warning, some primitive emotion gripped him savagely and he had to clutch the side of his seat to prevent himself from jumping on the stage to kidnap her. Or drape some cloth over her. Anything to keep her away from the lust-filled gazes of the wolves in the audience, who looked like they were already having X-rated mind sex with her.

A dart of unsullied lust slashed right through him, with so much force that he gritted his teeth tightly, but he resisted the urge to display any sort of discomfort. That was a battle of will and he refused to lose a point to her. Sweat beaded his forehead, and he had the faint illusion that he was not fooling that damned woman.

When she approached the end of the stage, he noticed that the dress was so transparent and that she was totally naked underneath, without an ounce of decency. At that moment his lust knew no bounds as his grip tightened until his knuckles became white to prevent himself from doing anything rash.

As she turned round for maximizing the effect of her profile view, he released a pent-up breath – breath he’d not even been aware of holding when he finally figured that the design was so cleverly orchestrated that the yellow muslin looked like there was nothing but raw skin under. Relief flooded through him, and before he’d had time to recover, she flashed him a triumphant smile right back.

Feisty, wasn’t she? A pity because he was about to destroy her spirits. Too bad he was the carrier of terribly bad news – in fact he’d made it a point to be the messenger, travelling purposefully from Rochester. Devin could hardly wait for the moment when he would unravel the reason for seeking her out and watch the color reap from her bogus persona.

Sordid thoughts hovered in his mind and he endured the rest of the show, eagerly waiting for another glimpse of her but she was nowhere to be found. Not even when the fashion designer was given a standing ovation followed by all models. Where the hell was she?

Trying to be discrete, he scanned the area furtively, still trying to make her face out among the models clapping their hands like puppets. Feeling strangely bereft when she was not found, he searched for her backstage and sagged in defeat when she was unfound – it seemed that she’d disappeared into thin air.

A few feet from him stood a man who looked like he was having a near orgasm on the success of the evening, and Devin approached him in two graceful strides.

“Hello, would you happen to know where Anastasia Forrester is?” he inquired politely.

“O.M.G!!! What are you doing in here? Only the staff is allowed backstage, but I could make an exception for a hot guy like you,” the event manager winked at him in a suggestive way that left no doubt of his sexual orientation.

Hell, a man hitting on him was exactly what he needed right now. Tampering down his impatience, Dev tried to lift his mouth in a semblance of a smile, and even managed a touch with his forefinger on the gay’s chest. It irritated him when the latter vibrated with exaggerated pleasure, and he curbed his exasperation with great difficulty.

“I need the whereabouts of Miss Forrester for urgent business,” he iterated a second time, feeling peeved for having to lower himself to ask about her. It was not a complete lie; he did have business with her. In fact, anything between him and Ana henceforth would only be professional matters, anything else had been annihilated when he’d cancelled their wedding. He’d made it a point to end everything in a dramatic way.

“What business would a hot guy like you have with that cold bitch?” the man tried to make another pass by touching his biceps.

That time, Dev hissed with unconcealed exasperation and he ambled past the man ignoring his protests barging into what looked like a private dressing room. It was the only personal chamber inside the studio aside the multiple segmented open space areas.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized without a trace of remorse as he caught sight of the dress designer Aimee Mc-something working on her laptop. He’d paid enough attention to the show to have acquired that much information. “I was actually looking for someone.”

Without a word, she peeked at him through her thickly framed glasses and surveyed him with open curiosity, like a scientist would inspect a bug under a microscope. He was damned before showed any of his discomfort though, only promising himself all this hassle would be worth it when he eventually faced Ana. “I’m looking for Anastasia Forrester,” he offered defensively, when he could no longer bear her frank scrutiny.

“And you would be?” she asked in an unwavering voice, and he hesitated before introducing himself. What were the odds of having Ana murdering his character to that woman? Zilch? Well, he would find out in a minute, still he decided to prevaricate for some more time, or a way to find a dent in that dragon’s armor.

“I’m afraid I have some news for her,” he ventured, knowing he was only beating about the bush, using his charismatic smile to charm her from her frozen form.

There was no getting through that bulwark though, she stood mute as a statue, unrelentingly as she waited for his answer.  

“I’m Devin Crigh…,” he began and snapped his mouth shut when her blue eyes instantly glowed with animosity. Damn he’d assumed correctly. Aimee Mc-something knew the one-sided story of his history with Ana and apparently, he was not on the good side of the best friend.

A polite smile from her did not fool him for a second. “I have no idea Mr. Crighton.”

The fact that she knew his name, even without him completing his self-introduction was proof enough that Ana had not only mentioned him to her friend but had also depicted his character to the worst level possible. Should he be flattered at this point? For he must have mattered to her for her to hate him that much. Actually, he wasn’t proud of the way things had turned up, it was not like he’d planned to leave her in the lurch.

As if she could read his thought, Miss Mc-something felt compelled to add. “Don’t worry, I have heard nothing remotely flattering about you from Ana. In fact, the only reason why I’m tolerating you is that I hope that you disappear from her life again. I think you have done enough damage to last her a lifetime. Why don’t you take a hike for the hell of it?”

Hours later, Devin swirled the golden liquid in his glass in a rhythmic monotonous motion which seemed to match his mood, watching the swish movement in fascination. It’s been twenty minutes since he’d graced the event with his presence, his eyes darting towards the entrance for the umpteenth time, but she was still nowhere in sight.

It was fashionable for stars to make late appearances, he knew, but the party was in full swing with most of the affluent personalities already present. He must be out of mind to have sought her out on a mere whim, just to announce that…

Leaping in surprise when he felt something against his crotch, he was stunned to realize that Molly whatever had stepped too close for comfort. Or was it Dolly? Completely forgetting about her presence, he’d been lost in his thoughts, too engrossed in playing the scene with Ana in his mind. He’d used Polly as a subterfuge to gain entry to the Dominez party, the other option had been gatecrashing which he hadn’t been practically fond of. That had left him with no other choice than to offer to be her partner as a ruse to be added on the guest list as a last minute. The woman seemed to be getting a different idea about his intention.

Too bad for her. He did not fancy blondes. He liked brunettes, one brunette in particular.  If he didn’t think of a getaway plan fast, he’d end up in her bed before he could blink – something which he definitely wasn’t looking forward to.

“Say darling,” he drawled, in his sexiest bedroom voice, resisting the urge to take a step back as the blonde was trespassing his personal place. Not that she would get the hint anyway, she seemed in no need of any further encouragement. She was stuck to him like a leech, so close that her strong perfume was overpowering him, almost suffocating him. As if it wasn’t repulsive enough, the woman wore such a deep décolleté that her naked breast almost bounced off, rendering him ill-at-ease instead of getting him turned on.

Without much haste, he took a casual sip of his scotch not even flinching when she batted her eyelashes at him. “Would you happen to know where Anastasia Forrester lives?”

With deep shame, he realized that he wanted Anastasia to catch him in such a comprising position with another woman, to gauge her reaction, to be able to measure if he still affected her like before. How it mattered to him was not very clear to him. All he knew was that he wanted to rattle the ice block she’d become. Besides, his feelings for Anastasia were so jumbled and confused that he refused to analyze them closely in case it turned out to be something he wouldn’t appreciate.

When Polly signaled him to come closer to whisper the address in his ears, he had to oblige. Tightening his lips to curb his antipathy, he memorized the information in his mind, at the same time registering that fact that Miss Mc-something was making her entry followed by a group of women. As he straightened, he was disappointed to find Anastasia still conspicuously missing. Was she even coming?

Another twenty minutes stretched, and by that time the model at his side had become both drunk and desperate, and he managed to disentangle himself with great difficulty. It was time to make another move. Just before the exit door, he caught sight of Aimee at the mini-bar in deep conversation with another woman, and when he overheard Ana’s name being mentioned he stopped dead in his tracks.

Diverting from his initial track, he approached stealthily feigning to get himself a drink, taking his time to add ice in his glass.

“Aimee,” he heard the other woman lament in a plaintive voice. “I specifically told Anastasia to make sure she attends at least this party. Look at the contacts she could make here,” she expanded her hand in a gesture which encompassed the whole room as if it explained everything.

“Jennifer, frankly speaking I have no idea where Ana could be. Last I knew, she was supposed to be put in a late appearance.”

It was such a lame excuse that Devin knew instantly that Aimee was lying. For the woman who’d looked at him with daggers would be out of her mind with worry out if her friend had not shown up for the party.

Jennifer sighed wearily and started to punch the buttons on her phone fiercely. “This is so like her. She always puts me in a fix. Can you imagine I have to apologize on her behalf every time? I have to do something about this.”

Without warning, Aimee glanced up in his direction to catch him eavesdropping, and he was so startled that he looked away swiftly, feeling red color purging through his cheeks. Damn! What the hell was he doing? How had he stooped to that level to resort to stalking his ex? However, all thoughts of regrets fled from his mind when he caught the dig directed at him.

“Don’t worry Jen. Wherever she is, I am sure she is with someone she loves.”

His whole body froze in shocked pain as the message sunk in. So that was the story. Anastasia had bunked the party to be with her lover. Staggering with disbelief, he flung his glass with force, the liquid splashing on the table and sauntered out of the hall without a backward glance.

With great humiliation, Devin was forced to admit to himself that he was stalking her alright after he’d taken the time to cool down. He couldn’t believe he was waiting for her outside her porch while she was having a steamy session of raunchy sex with her lover. What kind of fool that made him? When a cool breeze blew in his direction, he wrapped his suit tightly around him, gritting his teeth with self-recrimination. Try as he might, he could not wash away the images of Ana in bed with another man, someone caressing her body in a way he’d never touched before.

Furious with himself, he retracted his steps on the verge of returning to his hotel, when he was destabilized by the blinding flash of headlights as a car parked in the alley. Hiding behind the shadows, he reigned in his erratic emotions at the thought of seeing her from close after five long years. Years he’d spent hating her.

As he observed from the obscurities, unseen to her, she alighted her SL-Class Mercedes-Benz convertible wearing a happy serene smile on her face. She’d changed into a pair of casual faded jeans and a black crop-top which showed her tiny creamy midriff to its maximum appeal. Hair bound tight in a long ponytail, she looked nothing like the perfect doll of a few hours ago, and more like the young Ana he’d known. For one fleeting second, he felt a constriction around his heart again, loaded with contrition as he allowed himself to remember. If only they had met under different circumstances. If only they had been different persons, their pasts not so mingled in a complicated manner. If only their parents had not been…

With a jolt, he brought himself back to reality and swallowed hard trying to get past the familiar culpability.  The huge lump down his throat did not budge one millimeter which only increased his misery. With huge difficulty, he controlled his wayward emotions, not allowing them to cloud his purpose. He was here for one particular motive, and he’d better get on with it. He’d been waiting for this moment for a lifetime, so he’d better not screw this up.

Cutting short to his thoughts, he lurked forward in one giant stride just one second before she reached her porch and felt a merciless gratification when she whimpered in shock.

“Hello Anastasia,” he greeted her in a voice as cold as he could manage.

Ice blue eyes he’d not seen for what seemed like a century stared back at him, the pupils so flexed that they almost appeared non-existent. Like in a trance, she continued to gape at him with open captivation, still trying to make out whether he was a figment of her imagination. He chuckled without mirth, absolutely loving the surprise effect he had on her.

“I have rendered you speechless. Now that must be a first.”

The sound of his voice seemed to jerk her out of her stupor, and she reacted like he’d splashed cold water on her cheeks. Like a robot, one hand rose towards him in the action of touching him – but stopped midway to wave in front of him like someone would dismiss a mirage. Dev never knew whether she’d meant to touch his face, like she’d done in the past. So, he stood there wearing scorn and satire as a cover to hide any real feelings which were mainly confusion, remorse and unabashed lust.

“Devin,” she whispered in a small voice, apparently still not over the blow.

“So, you still remember the name?” he drawled insolently, cocking his eyebrows cockily at her. “I reckon it used to be ‘Dev’ back in the days.”

His sarcasm seemed to be her undoing. Entranced, he watched her whole face hardened into harsh features, lips tightening with disdain, eyes frosting into cold blue chips as she regained her composure of ice princess.

“So it was,” she agreed calmly but which did not fool him at all- she was more than a match for his cynicism now. “Times have changed though, haven’t they? Like Ana is now Anastasia,” she pointed out with saccharine sweetness.

“Touché,” he acknowledged drily, perusing her face for any sign of the sweet Anastasia who’d descended the car just a few seconds ago and found none. There was no mistake that she’d blossomed into an epic beauty, her classical angular face fitting perfectly with the natural high cheekbones that models would kill to have. Her best attribute was her hair, had always been, and it seemed that she was perfectly aware of that fact since she’d let it grow quite long, the burgundy color looking tamed in the dark.

Without an ounce of make-up on her face, she looked flushed – and he could not help wondering whether it was from the cold or from the passionate lovemaking she’d just participated in. Irascible rage gripped him, and to retaliate he wanted to make her squirm, instead of those glacial blue chips staring at him without emotions.

To unsettle her, he allowed his eyes to roam over her, brazen in their descent as he fixated her breasts with a lecherous gaze. They looked firmer and fuller since he’d last touched them, the skin around the area looked like fine incandescent porcelain so perfect that it looked like she’d wore foundation to cover any defect while he knew it was not the case, having licked that flesh once. Despite himself, he felt his mouth water at the decadent memory, that one hot summer night they’d had together before everything had turned into a complete fiasco.

Instead of feeling uncomfortable under his scrutiny, she arched her head back with chutzpa, giving him an appetizing view of her slender neck. He swallowed hard. A.G.A.I.N!

“So, I guess this is not a social visit?” she inferred in a cool and collected voice. “What do you want?”

Flames of desire, so robust, engulfed him that he nearly staggered under the effect. Gulping the impulse to grab her close, even if it was only to inhale her entrancing perfume, which seemed to be uniquely hers, and which his senses had still been unable to forget, he cast her a cynical look.

“Now that’s a leading question,” he drawled trying his best not to give in to the power play. He would pretend to be unfazed, never showed her any sign of debilitation, even if it killed him.

When she raised her chin in open challenge, he nearly groaned out in agony as his body felt like someone had started a bonfire inside. With a brashness he felt compelled to admire, she returned his cheeky anatomization with one of her own, her gaze starting with his face, tracing the outline of his neck and torso. And finally, further down, where he was so hard that it was difficult for him to make a single move without wincing.

Even if he doubted that she could see the bulge at his crotch, he had to make an inhuman effort not to shift his foot under her gaze. He had to give it to her. She was no longer the sweet innocent he’d known; she’d become a professional – a professional player.

Weirdly enough, he found himself wanting to punish her for that, chastise her for having turned into a worldly woman, even if he was the one partly responsible for the transformation.

“So where have you been?” he blurted out before he could think and immediately wished he could bite back his words. Why was he going that way? Why was he tormenting himself with thoughts of her with another man? Why the hell did it matter to him that she was having an affair with every damned male in New York? He was not concerned about her present relationship status. Hell, she could even be engaged to someone else.

In mock surprise, she arched her perfectly waxed eyebrows at him, her stance screaming defiance and mockery. “I am not sure you should be…”

“Your father’s dead,” Devin announced without preamble, interrupting her before she used the opportunity to toss his words back at his face.