the stairs to her room. She collapsed on the bed, her legs unwilling to support her as renewed shock ripped through her. She drew a pillow to her face to muffle the sound of the wrenching sobs that rumbled through her chest.
She had caused Solange Heidecker’s overdose.
She had ripped Bastien’s life apart!
Her tears fell faster, her insides quaking with the force of her pain. His father’s affairs had made Bastien bitter, but Ana realised it was his mother’s rejection and suicide attempt that had flayed him. Discovering he’d spent the last sixteen years hating his mother for something she hadn’t meant to do had rocked him. Ana had seen his shock when he’d realised this.
How could Bastien ever forgive her?
* * *
She woke bleary-eyed and heavy-hearted the next morning to the sound of knocking on her door. Her heart lurched, but it was Chantal who greeted her when she wrenched open the door, not Bastien.
‘Bonjour, mademoiselle. Your crew...they have arrived.’
‘Oh...okay. Thanks,’ she murmured, licking lips stiff with dried tears. She caught Chantal’s quick scrutiny before she started to turn away. She’d fallen asleep in her clothes and still clutched a tissue she’d used some time during the night. ‘Wait! Is Bastien...is he awake yet?’ She didn’t know how to begin to repair the damage she’d done but she’d lain awake knowing she had to start somewhere.
Chantal shook her head, her eyes solemn. ‘Non. Monsieur—he left last night.’
Misery and pain spiked through her, their bite so ferocious she folded her arms around her middle in self-preservation. ‘Left? When will he be back?’
The housekeeper shrugged.
Dazed, Ana closed the door. Bastien had left, and taken with him any opportunity to ask for his forgiveness.
The thought of him suffering because of what she’d done brought fresh tears. But Ana brushed them away and sucked in a deep breath. He was gone. She couldn’t do anything about that. What she could do, though, was throw her every last skill at making the ad campaign the best it could be. That she could control.
Trudging to the bathroom, she undressed and showered.
* * *
The crew’s arrival threw the château into a whirlwind of frenzied activity. Ana gladly submerged herself in the organised chaos, helping to unload equipment and assisting Chantal in setting up the crew in their allocated rooms. Anything to stop herself from revisiting that desolate place inside her that threatened to overwhelm her every time she thought of Bastien.
The first fracture in her false façade came when her phone beeped with a text. Thinking it was from Bastien, she jumped on it—only to find it was from Lily, wishing her luck for the shoot. The hope she’d been trying to stem since that phone call with her mother refused to die, no matter how much she tried to stave it off.
Her composure slipped even further when, at midday, a lawyer from a local firm turned up. He’d been hired by Bastien the day before and instructed to help her redraft new terms for her contract.
The short, moustachioed man was visibly startled when tears welled in her eyes. Bastien had shortened the twelve-month contract to two, and given her first refusal for any serialised campaigns. She signed the documents, her heart aching.
‘Ana—there you are.’
She turned from the late-afternoon sunlight streaming through the tower window to find Robin Green, the director, behind her.
‘Okay, that forlorn look you were wearing just now is great for when we shoot the scene downstairs, moments before you meet your handsome prince again after seven years apart. But not for the tower scene. Remember—this room is where love finally triumphs. I want radiance, ecstasy, unforgettable passion. Yes?’
She nodded, although deep inside she despaired about how she could pull off everlasting love when her insides were anguished, raw.
All through hair and make-up her mind drifted, wondering where Bastien was, what he was doing. How he was coping with the bombshell she’d thrown into his life.
Her emotions were so on edge a lump rose in her throat when the two security men guarding the Heidecker diamonds stepped forward. The white diamonds selected for the first scene were dazzling. As always, Ana was awed at the beauty of the pieces the Heidecker jewellers had produced. She’d modelled countless pieces of jewellery before, but none as stunning as the award-winning Diamonds by Heidecker collection.
She held her breath as the necklace was fastened. Against the royal blue of her floor-length strapless Dior gown the stones of the diamond collarette set in platinum stood out so vividly even the seasoned make-up artist gave a murmur of appreciation. Matching teardrop earrings went on next.
Xander Bryson took the role of her childhood love, the prince, but the scene they were shooting now required her to play alongside her current lover, on whose arm she was to arrive at a ball.
Robin yelled, ‘Action!’
A limousine rolled forward and the flashes of fake paparazzi cameras erupted as Ana stepped from the car onto the red carpet. Faking sadness came easily. Her actions had permanently scarred the beautiful man who owned her heart, so she immersed herself in her heartache and went with it.
‘That was perfection, Ana,’ Robin gushed. ‘Always a great sign when things go so well on a first take. Keep it up and we’ll have this thing wrapped in three days.’
* * *
Unfortunately the second day went in the opposite direction. Rain disrupted half a day’s shoot, fraying tempers and causing diva fits from Xander.
By the middle of day three Ana’s feet hurt and her whole body was mired in physical and emotional exhaustion. Striking poses for the photographer in charge of taking the stills—a tyrant who hid behind a perfectionist label—wasn’t going as smoothly as the filming had.
She heard the photographer’s annoyed huff one more time and suppressed her own huff. She wanted to scream, to tell him to take his camera and shove it somewhere dark and disturbing.
Swallowing her irritation, she tried another pose.
With another curse the photographer lowered his camera. ‘This isn’t working, Ana. Your shoulders are all hunched up. Relax!’
She gritted her teeth.
‘Think of something evocative...naughty. A lover kissing the back of your neck.’ He smirked.
Heat unfurled in her stomach as the image of Bastien doing exactly that rose in her mind. Her cheeks flushed, her body reacting instantly.
‘Yes! That’s it. Now, look straight into the camera!’
Ana responded to the directive automatically. The shutter clicked several times before she could wipe the look off her face. Shame drenched her as the photographer crooned his approval. Even after she’d lowered her eyes he clicked away.
The minute he took a break she sprang to her
