A Bride at His Bidding

by Michelle Smart

  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.

  ‘Practical clothing has no place in such a beautiful setting.’

  ‘Well, it’s very generous of you. I’m amazed you were able to get it all here before we arrived,’ she said lightly.

  ‘It’s a bespoke Internet service my niece uses. She holidayed here during her Christmas break but flew over on a commercial flight and lost her luggage. Twelve hours later she had a whole new designer wardrobe delivered.’ He gave a rueful laugh. ‘I did wonder if Natalia lost her suitcase deliberately just so I could buy her new clothing.’

  Carrie’s face pinched in on itself as he spoke his niece’s name but only briefly. If he hadn’t been watching her so closely he would have missed it.

  It was good to know she was squirming inside.

  ‘Anyway, with all this talk of clothes, I should tell you that you will need to change after we’ve eaten,’ he said.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘The current on my beach is too strong to swim in at this time of year but there’s a cove on Tortue Island that’s perfect. We will take my boat out there and swim and get to know each other better. Doesn’t that sound good?’

  Her throat moved before she nodded and smiled. ‘I can’t think of anything I’d like more.’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  IF THE WIND CHANGED, Carrie was quite sure her face would freeze with this pathetic smile stuck on it for ever. Her cheeks ached with the effort of it and all she wanted was for the slave-driving Greek egomaniac to let her go to bed and get away from him for some respite.

  She’d thought the day before had been long... It had nothing on the day she’d just endured, which, despite being late evening, showed no sign of ending soon.

  Tortue Island had been the tiny green island paradise she’d spotted from her balcony, a mere five-minute hop on Andreas’s speedboat. He’d taken her to a secluded cove surrounded by enormous palm trees and drenched in sunlight. That was where paradise had ended.

  Violet as a toddler had been easier to take care of than this overgrown infant. Practically the only thing she hadn’t had to do for Andreas was towel him dry after his frequent swims. She’d kept him supplied with constant refreshments, opened his bottles of water, peeled his fruit, fanned him when he’d decided he was too hot, even read news articles off his tablet for him, which had been financial articles and as exciting to read as it was to watch paint dry.

  And she’d had to do it all with a cheerful demeanour!

  The only thing that had kept her cheerful was imagining his smug face when he discovered her true identity. He’d mentioned that they would be flying back to London before heading on to Frankfurt and she couldn’t wait to get going. Both of those homes had proper offices set up for him to work from—he was so lazy she was surprised he bothered having offices outside his homes—and she just knew it wouldn’t take her long to discover his illegal secrets.

  She couldn’t get over how spoilt and lazy he was. If someone had told her the rugged Andreas Samaras liked to have his grapes peeled for him as if he were a Roman emperor, she would never have believed it, and she had applied for a job with him with the lowest expectations of the man. It just didn’t fit with what she thought she knew of him. But, no, he clearly adored being waited on, a wolfish smile near enough constantly playing on his lips.

  Once he’d grown bored of Tortue Island, they’d returned to his peninsular where Carrie had
waited on him some more while he’d sunbathed by his swimming pool.

  She had never imagined a man like Andreas could do so much sunbathing!

  Her duties at the pool had consisted mostly of sitting by his side with a handheld fan aimed at his face in between runs to his fully stocked poolside bar for ever more refreshments for him. Then it had been time to prepare his clothing for dinner and take a super-quick shower herself before they went to sit out on his veranda for their evening meal. Other than her shower, she hadn’t had a minute to herself, had only been able to check for a phone signal as she’d chucked a clean dress on after her super-quick shower. No magical signal had been found; her text message still sat pending.

  The meal cooked for them by Brendan had been possibly the best food she’d ever tasted, fat succulent tiger prawn salad—Andreas had got her to shell his prawns for him—followed by a creamy coconut curry, but she’d been unable to appreciate it as Andreas had had her running back and forth to the kitchen like a yo-yo.

  She hadn’t done so much exercise in years.

  ‘Caroline?’

  She suddenly realised that while she’d been silently fuming about his lazy, slave-driving ways, he’d been speaking to her.

  She fixed the wide smile back on her face.

  What do you want this time? Another bowl of water set at the optimum temperature to dip your fingers into? Another napkin to dry them with or to wipe your mouth to go with the five I’ve already had to get for you?

  ‘Sorry, I missed what you said.’

  He drained his white wine and set the glass on the table. ‘I’m ready to go in...’

  About time.

  ‘...so I need you to run me a bath and turn my bed down.’

  ‘Turn your bed down?’ she answered blankly, not having the faintest idea what he was talking about.

  His forehead creased and he tilted his head. ‘You’ve never turned a bed down before?’

  Sensing danger, she hid her apprehension with a smile. ‘It’s not something that’s been asked of me before. Maybe I know it by another name?’