“Can I buy you a drink?” someone asked behind Anastasia Hazel Forrester, and she schooled her features into an impassive mask before turning to face her interlocutor. A pair of stunning blue eyes stared back at her coupled with a dazzling smile meant to charm. “I’m all good,” she drawled lazily, indicating her glass and dismissed the handsome stranger who had accosted her without second thoughts. She loathed the fact that the opposite sex seemed to think that every lonely woman at a bar was fair game. “Are you sure?” he insisted with an obvious slurred Italian accent, unfazed to the fact that she was clearly not interested. Ana refrained from replying, praying that he would pick the hint. Thankfully he did. She breathed a sigh of relief – that was her fifth overtures for the night, and she was not impressed. She’d heard that Italians were pretty flirtatious and straight-forward but had never been a hands-on witness to the fact until today. She’d just landed in Milan the previous
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 sa
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 atte
Time stopped for Ana when she heard the devastating news coming so bluntly from the man in front of her.For a little while, even for a transient moment, she’d felt genuine happiness at Kevin’s party. She had even managed to stop the flow of memories from flooding her with grief, having put Devin’s Crighton re-appearance in her life as an unfortunate coincidence. It had all been possible because of the wonderful time she’d been spending with Kevin who’d been so sure she would skip because of her hectic schedule. But she would never be too busy for him. For them. She loved them unconditionally and limitlessly.The orphanage kids. Over such a short span of time, they had become such an integral part of her life that now she could hardly imagine her future without them. Especially when she brought such joy to them, not only for monetary purposes, but with her presence and love. When life had knocked her out with sadistic perversion, she had used them as anchor to rebuild her shattered wo
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 an
“Ana,” a voice halted her steps from behind as she was leaving the cemetery after Melissa’s dramatic departure. At first, used to the wailings of her sister, she had not given much credit to the show the latter was putting on. It was only when insults had been directed at her, that she had paid scant attention interrupting her prayers. And the only emotion she could muster was grim irritation for having disturbed her silent plea to God to forgive her father, hoping that he’d at least found salvation.As for accepting the condolences, she’d preferred a laid-back performance, granting her father’s cousin Aunt Mathilda the main role while Melissa had been making a spectacle of herself. It had felt more appropriate, everyone from the family hated her anyway, considering she was not the rightful heir to her father’s millions.Like she needed that kind of dirty money, she chided derisively to herself while she waited for Uncle Jeremy to reach her at the end of the alley, most probably to ta
The suspense was killing him, he was waiting in his limo just outside the motored courtyard, and there was not a soul in the vicinity of the Forrester mansion. Devin was sure that Ana was still in Rochester, she couldn’t go back without at least having a decent conversation with him, could she?After their first date in Milan, Dev had inexorably been forced to admit that Ana had been even more conniving than her father to have fancied right at their first meeting that marriage would be the price to pay– there was no doubt that she was the true daughter of Alastair Forrester. To survive, he’d kept a fixation in mind about the woman he’d wanted to be instead of the real one, not investing more than necessary in their relationship so that he would not sway when the right time arrived.And he hadn’t.When the wedding hour had struck, he’d been stashed away in Rio to lick his wounds about the failure of his mission. Ana had been far from his mind, there was absolutely no way he could go th
“Hell, this is ingenious,” Devin inferred ardently, bending over her to have a better look into the laptop monitor, seemingly unaware of the eloquent effect he was having on her. Throat dry with nervousness, she scrolled down the page with a semblance of normality as they searched for the name Alyssa Huntington on the online directory.Dispirited when nothing came up, she grimaced at the screen, resisting the urge to look back in his direction, his male musky scent giving a pretty indication of his closeness. She felt an uncomfortable urge at her nape, striving not to turn her neck in his direction.“Why don’t you try looking only for Huntington?” he suggested, his hot breath blowing against the juncture at her neck, and she gulped heavily as her traitorous heart did a somersault. Maybe he was right; come to think of it, it wasn’t such a good idea after all.If it wasn’t for her half-sister, she would have let Dev carried on with his sordid plan. But how could she, in her full senses