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‘You spied on me while I slept? While I…?’ She shuddered, unable to voice her thoughts.
He must have read them though for he frowned. ‘There were no cameras in your bedroom or any of the bathrooms. Unlike you, I have boundaries.’
‘Boundaries?’ she shouted. ‘You had me bring you a drink while you were in the bath!’
‘And didn’t you enjoy looking at me?’ he mocked. ‘Now answer my question. Your real name.’
Cheeks burning, she glared at him, willing him to feel the hate vibrating out of her and to be scorched by it. Then she straightened her spine and spoke steadily. ‘My legal name is Caroline Fiona Dunwoody, exactly as it says on my passport. I have been known as Caroline Rivers since my mother remarried when I was four but my name was never legally changed. I have always been called Carrie.’
‘So, Caroline Dunwoody Rivers, why are you investigating me?’
She put her hands on her hips and glared at him. ‘I’m not answering that.’
‘You are,’ he contradicted amiably. ‘I promise that by the time the sun comes up you will have told me everything I wish to know.’ He leaned forward. ‘You are an award-winning journalist. You specialise in exposing the illegal practices of rich businessmen. You went to a lot of effort to infiltrate my life. You supplied false references. Debbie spoke to the people you stated were your referees. I assume these were your colleagues and that this sting has been carefully orchestrated by you and your newspaper. Investigations are not started on a whim. I want to know what started this whole ball rolling. I want to know everything.’
She listened to his words, delivered in such a reasonable tone but with steel lacing the staccato, with mounting fury at herself.
Why had she not listened to her instincts when she’d walked into his office and every nerve in her body had told her to turn on her heels and run?
And how was she supposed to answer any of his questions without dragging herself deeper into the hole she’d stupidly and unwittingly allowed herself to fall into?
When she remained tight-lipped, he sighed. ‘Caroline…’
‘Carrie.’
His broad shoulders raised nonchalantly. ‘I don’t care. What I do care about is the truth and we’re not going anywhere until you give me answers. You’ve lied and lied and now you owe me the truth.’
She put her hands on the table and glared at him. ‘I don’t owe you a damned thing and you lied too. You didn’t have to go along with the pretence. You could have confronted me in the interview.’
‘And have you run straight back to your newsroom and out of my reach?’
‘But why have me skivvy after you? What was the point in that?’
‘You really need to ask?’ Amusement flared in the darkness of his eyes. ‘You wanted to destroy me. The least I could do was let you suffer a little humiliation in return. I haven’t enjoyed myself so much in years.’ The amusement dropped. ‘Someone is out to destroy me. It is either a business rival or a disgruntled ex-employee, or you are on a personal vendetta…because you and I have history, don’t we, Carrie Rivers, sister of Violet?’
It was the way Carrie’s face contorted at the mention of her sister’s name that was the clincher for Andreas.
His intuition had been right all along. For Carrie, this was personal.
He got to his feet. ‘Stay here. I’m going to get us a drink.’
‘I don’t want anything.’
‘I do. And when I get back you will sit down and you will tell me everything because I promise you this—you won’t be leaving the Seychelles until you do.’
He left her standing there, white-faced in her fury, and strode inside to his bar. He looked through the rows of bottles and plumped for a bottle of whisky, a brand with the spicy bite he needed right then.
Grabbing two crystal tumblers, he headed back to the veranda, part of him expecting Carrie to still be stubbornly standing where he’d left her but she’d sat down, legs crossed and arms folded across her chest, giving him what he could only describe as a death stare.
He took his seat opposite her, unscrewed the lid and poured them both a hefty measure. He pushed one of the tumblers to her. ‘You’re welcome to throw this in my face or smash the glass but it won’t change anything.’
She picked it up with a scowl and sniffed it. ‘It smells disgusting.’
‘Don’t drink it, then.’
She took a sip and pulled a face. ‘It tastes worse than it smells.’ That didn’t stop her taking another sip.
He settled back and stared at her. She met his gaze, the hazel of her eyes reflecting fire at him. The effect gave her beauty a majesty.
