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His mouth compressed, and his eyes were as cold as the Alps of his native Switzerland.
Without answering, he pressed a button in the keypad near his wrist. She watched with escalating dread as a monitor sprang up from the centre console and flickered to life. Once it had clicked into place he angled it to face her.
The jumble of words and numbers scrolling beneath the picture on the screen sent a surge of almost debilitating insecurity rushing through her. Feeling his gaze on her, she struggled to remain calm, not to give him any more ammunition against her. But even without adequate understanding Ana had watched enough television to grasp what the graph meant. Heart thudding, she followed the red line descending with alarming speed.
At the top right hand corner of the screen she saw the time emblazoned clearly: 15:32.
‘Turn it off,’ she snapped hoarsely.
‘That won’t make it go away,’ he rasped.
Pulling her gaze from the screen, she glanced down at her hands, saw the death grip she had on her purse and forced herself to relax. ‘Turn it off, Bastien. You’ve made your point.’
The screen disappeared into its casing.
Nervously, she licked her lips. ‘There must be something we...I can do?’
‘Not being caught in possession of drugs would’ve been the single, most positive outcome to this whole situation.’
She glared at him. ‘We can keep circling this conversation or we can discuss a useful way forward. Either way, my answer isn’t going to change. I don’t take drugs!’
‘So you were framed? That’s a little too convenient, don’t you think?’ he returned.
‘Convenient? I’ve just spent the night freezing my behind off in a cold cell for something I didn’t do. “Convenient” is the last way I’d describe my predicament.’
‘Well, you’ll have to start unravelling your predicament, fast. Your trial’s in three weeks,’ he informed her calmly.
‘Three weeks?’ Another wave of horror washed over her.
Bastien folded his arms over his chest. ‘You expect me to believe you’re not under the influence of drugs, and yet you can’t recall events that happened less than an hour ago.’
‘I was scared—all right?’ Her voice emerged more shrilly than she’d intended.
A flash of emotion lit his eyes. She wanted to fool herself into thinking it was compassion, but it disappeared way too quickly for her to be certain.
She cleared her throat. ‘I know I should’ve paid more attention in court. And I was. Before...before you showed up.’
‘Are you saying I distracted you?’
‘It wouldn’t be the first time,’ she replied.
His eyes narrowed but he didn’t respond. Their time in Cannes was a subject they both wanted to avoid.
So why did she keep thinking about it...and reliving it?
No more.
She forced herself to look into his eyes.
‘The last twelve hours have been difficult. I know it looks bad, but I haven’t done anything wrong. Someone put the drugs in my bag. I don’t know why. I’m innocent.’
She breathed a sigh of satisfaction when her voice stayed even. She could do this. Remaining calm was key to finding a way out of this mess.
‘Miss Duval, whether you’re innocent or not, my company continues to haemorrhage money.’ He flicked a glance at his watch. ‘The market closes in twenty-five minutes. Someone needs to be held accountable.’
‘But I can’t do anything in twenty-five minutes!’ Hysteria threatened to dissolve her shaky calm. Sucking in a desperate breath, she glanced out of the window.
And stiffened.
