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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?’
‘I thought it was a universal term.’ A suggestive gleam sparkled in his eyes. ‘It just means preparing my bed so it’s ready for me—turning the sheets over so I can slide into them.’
‘Oh, that,’ she said with feigned brightness. Yes, this was exactly the sort of thing this spoilt man would demand. She would bet that in colder climates he would demand his domestic PA personally warm his bed for him. ‘Of course. Yes. Anything else?’
‘I’ll let you know if anything comes to mind while you’re running my bath.’
I just bet you will.
She got to her feet. ‘I’ll run it for you now. What temperature do you like it?’ Scalding or ice-cold? she prevented herself from asking.
He waited a beat before answering, a smile tugging on his lips. ‘Why don’t you run it to the temperature you like?’
Andreas watched Carrie walk into the house to run him a bath with amusement fizzing in his veins.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d enjoyed himself as much as he had that day.
She waited on him as if she’d been born to serve his whims. Her determination to act the role he’d set for her and act it well had been exquisite to watch.
The little tells that had betrayed her real feelings had been equally exquisite. When this was all over he’d have to arrange for her to be given an acting award because he was quite certain he would never have seen those betraying signs if he hadn’t been looking for them.
When this was all over…
That was a thought to knock the smile from his face.
He would have to put Carrie out of her misery sooner rather than later, however enjoyable it was to play the role of spoilt playboy, a role that, despite his riches, he’d never had the time or inclination to play before. With Carrie being the one to act the role of slave, the spoilt playboy role had been one to relish. What a shame he would have to put a stop to it so soon.
Debbie had messaged him earlier with news that made it clear he needed to return to London and start on damage limitation. Whatever Carrie’s reasons for being here, she’d prodded a hornets’ nest.
He poured himself another glass of wine. Other than shave, it was the first thing he’d done for himself all day. He took a sip, leaned back and closed his eyes.
His graduation from university had coincided with his parents’ world falling apart. Since then, his life had been one long conveyor belt of obligations. Family, work, responsibility, with Andreas the one holding everyone and everything together. Then, as he’d seen light at the end of the long dark tunnel, his sister and brother-in-law had died and he’d suddenly found himself guardian to his teenage niece. Natalia had been raised in London and was already a weekly boarder at her school in the English capital when her parents died. Andreas hadn’t wanted to uproot her life any further so had uprooted himself instead, moving his life and business from Manhattan to London. Natalia had become his priority.
He had never begrudged anything he’d done for his family. It was what families did—they loved and took care of each other. But it was only when Natalia had left for university and he’d felt the burden of responsibility lifting from his shoulders that he’d realised what a weight it had been on him. That weight had been there most of his adult life.
