Chapter 5 05

05

But her mind was frizzled – her thoughts wandering once again to the man who was creating havoc in her life without even trying. Did she have to be so hard on herself? Would it be so bad if she allowed herself some leeway during her holiday?

If one intense look in her direction could instigate such a reaction from her, her stunned mind wondered what kissing him would be like? Almost as if in a trance, she swayed towards him, deciding to take destiny into hand, she flashed him her most dazzling smile in blatant invitation, totally clueless to the fact that she'd just signed her death warrant.

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.

She shifted slightly in her seat, the perfectly tailored navy suit hugging her lithe frame with impeccable precision. Her stilettos tapped a light rhythm on the marble floor as she regarded Mr. Patterson like one would a particularly annoying insect.

« 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 the top of a building ready to jump, people would gather like a voyeuristic crowd just to watch while pretending to care.

Her gaze swept across the room, catching the sly glances, the barely concealed smirks. She could almost hear their internal dialogue: Better him than me. Pathetic. Disgusting.

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.

Mr. Patterson finally cleared his throat, a broken sound, before mumbling, « I... I resign, Ms. Forrester. »

Ana inclined her head a fraction, signaling her bored acceptance.

« Leave your badge at the front desk, » she ordered crisply. « Security will escort you out. »

Without another word, Mr. Patterson stumbled out of the room, the thick tension parting for him like a curtain.

For a moment, silence reigned, heavy and suffocating. Then, as if on cue, the room exploded into a flurry of activity, everyone pretending to mind their own business, pretending they hadn't just witnessed yet another public execution at the hands of Anastasia Forrester.

Ana leaned back in her chair, exhaling a slow, measured breath. She could feel the familiar emptiness settle in her chest, the cold satisfaction curdling into a numb hollowness.

Once upon a time, she would have cared. Would have lost sleep over hurting someone. Would have fretted endlessly about doing the right thing.

But that girl was long dead.

Buried five years ago, in the streets of Milan, the night she had dared to smile at a stranger and lost herself forever.

Ana's hand curled slightly on the table, the diamond ring she wore-not for love, but for appearances-catching the harsh fluorescent light and throwing splinters of brilliance across the polished surface.

She was a success story now. The perfect headline: Anastasia Forrester – The Ice Queen Who Conquered the Fashion World.

Yet sometimes, late at night, when the city quieted down and the buzz faded, she felt the ghost of that girl she used to be.

Foolish. Hopeful. Trusting.

And it made her sick.

« Ms. Forrester? » her assistant, Tanya, appeared nervously at her elbow, clutching a tablet like a shield.

Ana didn't even glance at her.

« What is it? » she demanded curtly.

« Mr. Lancaster is here for the 3 p.m. meeting, » Tanya said, almost wincing. « Should I send him in? »

Ana's lips twisted in a humorless smile. Ah yes, another bloodthirsty shark from the business world, another opponent to destroy before lunch.

« Yes. And Tanya, » she added as the assistant turned to leave, « next time, don't bother asking. Use your initiative. »

Tanya flushed and scurried off, and Ana allowed herself a moment of private amusement. The girl would learn-or she would leave. Simple.

As the door opened again to admit Mr. Lancaster, Ana straightened her spine, her icy mask firmly back in place.

She had built walls around herself so high, so impenetrable, that even she sometimes forgot what it felt like to feel anything beyond cold efficiency.

And she preferred it that way.

Emotions were messy. Dangerous. Fatal.

The man who had once taught her that lesson was probably rotting somewhere in his own guilt by now, but it didn't matter. She didn't care.

She had survived. She had won.

And in this world, survival was the only victory that mattered.