A Bride At His Bidding

CHAPTER THREE

ANDREAS ENJOYED CARRIE’S attempt to hide her horror at this clearly unwelcome revelation.

‘I bought this place as a getaway from the world so it’s run in a more relaxed way than my other homes,’ he said. ‘As long as I have someone close at hand to take care of my needs, I don’t need much else and that, matia mou, is why you are here. Consider it an easy breaking-in for you. The house runs itself so you can dedicate your time here to me and we can get to know each other properly in the process.’

The colour drained from her face, her hazel eyes widening.

Understandable, he thought lazily. Carrie wouldn’t want him delving into her life with probing questions that would put her on the spot. She wouldn’t want to trip herself up with easily forgotten lies.

He admired that, through the tumult of emotions flickering through her eyes, her composure didn’t waver. If he were ignorant of her true identity he doubted he would have noticed anything amiss. If he didn’t know the truth he would assume she was a naturally quiet, self-contained woman.

He looked forward to seeing how far he could push her before she cracked and the real Carrie emerged.

‘Now for your room. You will find it adequately appointed.’ But not as adequately as Rochelle’s had been. She was being put in a much different room from the one his former Domestic PA had enjoyed. Rochelle’s room had been located at the other end of the house so she could have her privacy.

He didn’t intend for Carrie, this cuckoo in his nest, this spy, to have any privacy during her interlude in his life. Her duties would be of the kind he would never dream of imposing on a proper employee.

Andreas turned the handle of a door in the middle of the left-hand wall of his room. It opened into a much smaller, adjoining room.

He spread a hand out. ‘See? You have everything you need. A bed, a dressing table, wardrobe and your own bathroom.’ But no television or other form of entertainment. Andreas intended to be Carrie’s only source of entertainment while she was here.

The colour that stained her cheeks this time was definitely of the angry variety but she kept it in check to ask with only the slightest tremor, ‘My room adjoins yours?’

‘How would you take care of my needs if you were on the other side of the house? The previous owners used this room as a nursery. I admit it’s rather small—it was designed for a small child before they went into a proper room of their own—but I can assure you it’s perfectly adequate.’ Adequate for a baby or toddler. Barely adequate for a fully grown woman, even one as slender as Carrie. He’d intended to turn it into another dressing room and was glad he hadn’t got around to organising it.

‘Where’s the lock?’

‘There isn’t one so it will be nice and easy for you to come and go between our rooms.’ He winked. ‘But do not worry. I am a gentleman and only enter a lady’s bedroom when invited.’

And should she be tempted to enter his room without invitation, which she undoubtedly would seeing as her whole purpose for being here was to snoop, then the microscopic cameras he’d had installed in his bedroom and throughout the house would monitor her every movement.

He’d intended to bug her room too with voice-activated cameras but had talked himself out of it. There was a line a person should never cross and bugging a lady’s bedroom, even a journalistic spy like this one, was firmly on the wrong side of it. Now that he’d spent the day in such close confines to her, he was doubly glad he hadn’t crossed that line.

Carrie had an allure about her that played to his senses like a finely tuned violin.

She also had eyes that looked bruised from exhaustion.

‘I can see you’re tired. Is there anything you wanted to ask before we retire for the night?’

She shook her head, those soft, plump lips drawing in together. The situation had clearly overwhelmed her. He could sympathise. When she had walked into his offices in the heart of London’s financial district that morning she could not have guessed she’d finish the day cut off from everything she was familiar with in the paradise that was the Seychelles. No doubt she was feeling vulnerable.

Good.

He could sympathise but he would not. Carrie was a vulture. A beautiful vulture for sure, but a vulture nonetheless.

She deserved nothing less than what was coming for her.

‘In that case, I bid you goodnight. The clothes I promised you were flown in while we were travelling. Sheryl has put them away for you. You will find them imminently suitable. And remember...’

A pretty brow rose cautiously. ‘Remember?’

He winked. ‘I like to be welcomed with a smile.’

As he closed the interconnecting door he smiled himself to imagine her reaction to the clothing selected for her.

His fun with Carrie was only just beginning.

* * *

Carrie threw the entire contents of her new wardrobe onto the narrow excuse of a bed and rifled through them with increasing anxiety.

She’d expected to be given outfits akin to what chambermaids in hotels wore, not clothing like this.

Her wardrobe and dresser had been filled with soft, floaty summer dresses, vest tops, shorts that put the meaning into the word ‘short’, bikinis and sarongs. There was underwear too, all of the black, lacy variety.

Every item had a designer label.

Her skin had never felt so heated as when she’d picked up a pair of knickers and wondered if Andreas had chosen them personally.

But how could he have done? She hadn’t left his side since she’d stepped into his office. It must have been his PA, Debbie, who she’d been certain hadn’t liked her in the initial interview and who she’d had to give her vital statistics to as Andreas had whisked her out of his building.

Carrie tugged at her hair with a mixture of consternation and fear.

Whoever had chosen the items, which included beach paraphernalia along with all the clothing, this was not right, not by any stretch of the imagination. To make matters worse there was no Internet she could connect to and her phone signal seemed to be non-existent. The text message she’d written to her editor forty minutes ago was still trying to send.

Who knew she was here? Andreas and his PA Debbie, his flight crew and his Seychellois domestic staff. No one from her own life knew she was in the Seychelles, only people employed by Andreas.

Rubbing her eyes, she told herself she was probably worrying over nothing. It had been an incredibly long day and she was sleep deprived. Sleep deprivation did funny things to the brain.

The letter inviting her to the second interview had stated the successful applicant would be expected to start the job immediately. It was her own fault that she hadn’t taken the letter literally enough.

She was exactly where she wanted to be, with greater access to the man than in her wildest dreams.

But he also had access to her, and she eyed the adjoining unlocked door with nerves fluttering in her chest.

There was no way she would trust his word that he wouldn’t enter her room uninvited.

The way he looked at her... Did he look at all his employees with that same intensity? Did he leave the rest of his employees feeling that he was stripping them bare with a glance?

Or was it just her guilty conscience playing at her and making her see things that weren’t there?

Movement from the adjoining room made her catch her breath.

Andreas was still awake. They were connected to each other’s rooms and she couldn’t even lock herself away from him.

She forced herself to breathe.

She needed to take a shower but had been holding it off until she could be reasonably sure he’d gone to sleep. An hour after he’d left her in this tiny bedroom, there was nothing to suggest he was ready to turn in.

What was he going to do? she chided herself. Walk in on her while she showered?

Sexual foibles were the easiest secrets to uncover. Andreas Samaras might be many things but a sex pest was not something that had been flagged up about him, not even on the secret grapevine from which she and other journalists like her got so many of their stories. He rarely dated and when he did it was discreetly. If there was anything along those lines she had to worry about she would already know about them.

She was being over-cautious when she didn’t need to be.

Carefully putting the expensive clothing back into its rightful place, she realised what her real problem with it was. These were the sort of clothes a man bestowed on his lover for a holiday, not his employee.

* * *

Carrie awoke in the unfamiliar tiny room minutes before the digital alarm clock on her bedside table went off. It had been set for her by some faceless person that she would no doubt meet shortly, a person with whom she would have to pretend to be someone she was not.

Lying on an investigation had never bothered her before. The few she had done before, though, had been office-based. Offices were places where everyone wore a mask. She’d fitted in without any problems and without any guilt, knowing she was working for a good cause.

This was different. This was Andreas’s home. She had told herself over and over that this was an opportunity that had been gift-wrapped for her but she still felt as if she’d breached an invisible line.

He deserves it, she told herself grimly, focussing her mind on Violet’s scarred, emaciated body and its root cause. He deserves everything he gets.

She checked her phone and sighed to see the message to her editor still pending. Her room must be in a black spot.

After a quick shower under the disappointing trickle of water in her private bathroom, only mitigated by the expensive, wonderfully scented toiletries provided for her, it was time to select an outfit to wear.

After rifling through her new clothing for the dozenth time she chose a dark blue dress covered in tiny white dots. It was made of the sheerest material, had the thinnest of spaghetti straps and fell to mid-thigh but at least it covered her cleavage. And, she had to admit, it was pretty.

Scrabbling through her handbag, she found a hairband wedged in the bottom and tied her hair into a loose bun at the nape of her neck. She had no make-up with her. Usually that didn’t matter as she rarely wore it but today she felt she could do with some camouflage.

Dressed and feeling much more alert, she pulled the floor-length curtains open and gasped.

The sight that greeted her could have come from a postcard.

If she’d peeked through the curtains during the night she would have seen her room had its own private balcony. She stepped out onto it now, heart thumping, the sun kissing her skin good morning.

She closed her eyes to savour the feeling then opened them again, hand on her throat, staring in stunned awe at the deep blue sky unmarred by so much as a solitary cloud and at the stunning azure ocean that lapped gently onto the finest white sand imaginable, the cove’s shore lined with palm trees. A short distance ahead sat an isolated green landmass that looked, from her dazed estimation, close enough that she might tread through water to it. An artist couldn’t have painted a more perfect scene.

‘Good morning, Caroline.’

The deep, cheerful voice startled her and she gripped the balustrade before turning her head.

So mind-blown had she been by the view before her, she hadn’t noticed her balcony was far too wide to be hers alone.

Hair damp and wearing nothing but a pair of low-slung black shorts, Andreas strolled to stand beside her and grinned. ‘What did I tell you about the view in daylight—takes the breath away, doesn’t it?’

Her grip on the balustrade tightening, she stared back out at the view and nodded. ‘It’s stunning.’

But it was the view standing feet away from her that had truly stolen her breath and, though she tried her hardest to keep her attention on what lay in front of her, her senses were leaping to what stood beside her.

His body was even better than her imagination had allowed her to believe. Broad shouldered, muscular without being overdone and deeply tanned, this was a body kept fit by plenty of swimming and enjoyment of the outside life, not by lifting weights or working on a treadmill. This wasn’t a body that had been sculptured out of vanity.

‘Sleep well?’ he murmured, resting his arms on the balustrade.

She inhaled and gave a sharp nod, intensely aware of his penetrative gaze on her.

So much for sleep curing her inexplicable awareness of him.

‘Fine, thank you.’

‘Good. Ready to start work?’

She nodded again.

‘Then let’s introduce you to the others and get some breakfast. I don’t know about you but I’m starving.’

‘Okay.’ She turned to go back into her room.

‘Caroline?’

She met his sparkling gaze. ‘Yes?’

‘Have you forgotten my most basic requirement?’

She furrowed her brow as she tried to clear her mind of his semi-nakedness enough to think, pretended her insides hadn’t just clenched and heated to see the fine dark hair that lightly covered his chest snaked down and over his hard abdomen to where his shorts rested low...

He shook his head in amusement. ‘Where is my smile?’

‘Still waking up,’ she replied without thinking.

His grin was wide enough to eclipse the rising sun. ‘Ah, you do have a sense of humour. I did wonder. Now let’s get some breakfast.’

And with that, he strolled back into his room.

Carrie was on the brink of laughter for reasons she couldn’t begin to understand, although she suspected it would have a hysterical quality to it if it came out, when clarity suddenly came to her.

She was here.

She’d got the job.

Everything was in place to allow her to do what she’d spent the last three years dreaming of doing. The last thing she wanted was to blow the opportunity by not performing as required and getting sacked before she’d properly started.

Whatever strange reactions Andreas provoked inside her, she had to ignore them and do her job.

He’d made his requirements crystal clear. She was to be good humoured and cater to all his whims. Well, she would do just that. She would do everything he required of her and she would make darned sure to keep a smile on her face while she did it. She would inveigle her way into his confidence and uncover the secrets Andreas Samaras kept hidden from the world.

And then she would expose them.

And then, finally, she would find some peace of mind. Violet would have been avenged and both the men who’d destroyed her life would, in a much different way, be destroyed too.

With that happy thought in her head, she hurried to join him.

* * *

Breakfast had been laid out on the sunny veranda, an array of breads, pastries, fruits, condiments and yogurt.

‘I take my coffee black without sugar,’ Andreas said as he took his seat.

He’d introduced Carrie to his staff but had kept it quick. He’d taken Enrique and Sheryl into his confidence and they’d been outraged to discover an investigative journalist was trying to infiltrate his life. They were honest, upstanding people who he knew would struggle to hide their true feelings towards her for any length of time.

He liked to think he was an honest man too, but dealing with the shysters and scumbags that littered the financial world he inhabited like the dregs of a pot of coffee had taught him how to play the game that the people he employed on this island could never understand.

Carrie, still standing, poured his coffee for him. She even poured it with a smile.

‘I will have honeydew melon and yogurt,’ he told her.

She took a bowl and, with another smile, spooned chunks of melon into it. ‘Tell me when to stop.’

Her disposition since he’d startled her on the balcony had changed considerably, and very much for the better. He would bet her new, cheerful disposition was external only.

He waited until the bowl was full before raising a hand. He noticed her own hand was incredibly slim, the nails long and nicely shaped. If Carrie were to look at the hands of any of his domestic staff she would see none of them had nails as well maintained as hers. She would see her nails were a dead giveaway that her life had not been spent undertaking domestic work.

‘Four spoonfuls of yogurt,’ he commanded amiably.

Again, she obeyed. ‘Can I get you anything else to go with it?’

Tempted though he was to ask her to spoon it into his mouth, just to see if the smile fixed on her face cracked, he resisted. ‘That will do for the moment. I will let you know when I want anything else.’

She nodded and folded her hands together over her belly.

Andreas put a spoonful into his mouth and took the opportunity to cast his eyes over her again in an appreciative open manner he would never dream of doing with an ordinary employee.

She was a little smaller than the average woman, the modest dress she’d selected showcasing the lithe legs of a model and breasts he would never have guessed could be so full on so slight a person. The morning sunlight beamed on her face highlighting the soft dewiness of her skin, reflecting off her complexion in glimmering waves.

Carrie didn’t need make-up. She was stunning exactly as she was.

It was fortuitous that she wasn’t a proper employee of his, he thought, as a thick heaviness pooled in his loins. Boss-employee relationships were disasters waiting to happen and he steered well clear of them, just as he avoided anything that could harm his business and personal reputation. In today’s climate, where sexual harassment charges were a mere compliment about a pretty outfit away, he was too conscious of his position and power to risk his reputation.

Carrie would be a challenge to his self-imposed ideals. If he had to work with her in a close environment for real he knew he would find it a challenge to keep their relationship on a professional footing, a notion he found faintly disturbing.

Here and under these unique circumstances, his personal ethics could be safely pushed aside. She wasn’t his employee. She was a snake. A beautiful, beguiling, incredibly sexy snake who wanted to destroy him.

‘Are you not going to sit down?’ he asked once he’d swallowed his mouthful.

Her hazel eyes flickered, her brow furrowed slightly, but the smile stayed in place.

‘Are you not intending to eat?’

Now the furrow in her brow deepened.

‘I dislike eating alone, matia mou. While we’re here it is my wish that you dine with me, so, please, sit. Pour yourself a drink and eat something.’

As she complied with his request, he couldn’t resist adding, ‘Also, if you dine with me, it makes it easier for you to wait on me.’

‘Whatever makes your life easier,’ she said demurely and with only a hint of teeth being ground together. ‘I am here to serve you.’

‘That you are,’ he agreed. ‘And you look beautiful doing it. Are you happy with the clothes selected for you?’

Her spoon, which had been adding a little yogurt into the bowl she’d taken for herself, hovered in her hand. ‘Yes. Thank you. Although... I thought I would be given more...practical clothing.’

Poor Carrie. How disconcerting it must have been for her to open her wardrobe and find there was no uniform to hide behind, no means to slip unobtrusively into the shadows of his life.

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