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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.’
