A Bride at His Bidding Page 6

  He’d seen the suspicion in her eyes in the moments before she’d gone back inside to cater to his latest whim. Instinct had made him switch his phone over to the live feed coming from his bedroom.

  Judging by the stillness in her frame as she stared around his bedroom, he suspected her own instincts had kicked in too.

  After a couple of minutes of nothing, her expression suddenly changed, sharpening, her head tilting, brow furrowing as she walked trance-like towards the French door.

  And then she was looking right at him...

  Her pretty lips formed a perfect O as he watched realisation hit her.

  Suddenly she was on the move, her face set, lips now pressed tightly together. She dragged a chair to the curtains and climbed onto it and yanked the camera out. The picture disappeared and he had to wait a few seconds for one of the others to kick in in its place. By then she’d found another, hidden in plain sight on the television. Her face now twisted with rage, she mouthed a curse at him before yanking that one out too.

  She made her way systematically around the room until she’d removed all four hidden cameras and there were no more feeds left.

  Andreas sipped more Scotch and prepared himself for the storm that was surely going to follow, breathing deeply to abate the weighty beats of his heart.

  This was it, a few hours sooner than anticipated. Time for the truth to be revealed.

  He didn’t have to wait long.

  The patio doors slammed open and Carrie appeared, marching straight towards him. When she reached the table, she snatched the glass from his hands and dropped the four tiny cameras into the Scotch.

  He looked her up and down as she faced him, hands clenched in fists at her sides, chest heaving, her furious face pinched, looking ready to punch his lights out.

  ‘Why don’t you sit down?’ he suggested coolly.

  In many respects, it was better for the truth to come out now, when it was just the two of them and no witnesses.

  Her lips parted and her jaw moved, clearly struggling to get any words out. When they finally came they were barely audible. ‘You know, don’t you?’

  ‘That you’re the undercover journalist Carrie Rivers?’ He hooked an ankle on his thigh. ‘Yes, matia mou, I know exactly who you are. I’ve always known.’

  ‘So...this has all been a game?’

  He allowed himself a smile. ‘And what a game it has been. You have played it exquisitely. You make an excellent skivvy.’

  She moved so quickly she was a blur, grabbing her glass and throwing the lemonade in his face.

  Carrie, her heart a heavy burr, her stomach a mass of knots, fought for breath, feeling not the slightest bit of satisfaction to see the cold liquid soaking his face and hair.

  He hadn’t even flinched.

  Of all the things she hated about him, at that moment the greatest thing to loathe was that he was sitting there, as cool as a cucumber with lemonade dripping off him while she couldn’t even control her own breathing.

  But then his eyes clashed with hers and she realised he wasn’t as cool as he appeared. His jaw was taut and his eyes as dark as she’d ever seen them, filled to the brim with the danger she had always sensed but had stupidly chosen to ignore.

  He’d known who she was all along. Right from the beginning.

  Her brain burned just to recall it all. She’d known there was something wrong with the way he’d got her waiting on him hand and foot, had been too focussed on the prize at the end to allow herself to think about it. She’d also, she had to admit with painful humiliation, been too busy fighting her reactions to him to pay attention to all the dangers and warnings.

  She’d ignored everything her instincts had been telling her.

  It had all been a game and she had fallen for it.

  She had infiltrated his life to bring him down but he had turned the tables on her and played her like a toy.

  Slowly and deliberately, he wiped his sodden face with his hands and shook the liquid away, his piercing eyes never leaving her face.

  ‘I believe it is time for you to tell me why you are really here, Carrie Rivers.’

  His tone cut through her along with the words he used.

  ‘But before you start, tell me your real name. Are you Carrie or Caroline? Or would you prefer I address you as Lying Snake?’

  ‘I’m not the snake here.’ Why did her voice have to tremble so much? ‘How many cameras have you had spying on me?’

  ‘Enough to have monitored your every move if the need had arisen.’

  ‘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.

  Whatever had motivated Carrie to set out to destroy him, she thought she had right on her side. She was set for a humiliating disappointment.

  ‘Okay, let us establish some facts to begin with. The paper you work for has a reputation for excellent journalism and I include you in that. When it splashes on a big story the rest of the media follows. It is rarely sued for libel and when it is it rarely loses—namely, it backs up its stories. It is a serious, weighty newspaper. It doesn’t print spurious gossip. It stands to reason that there was evidence for your editor or whoever is in charge of signing investigations off to think it worth their time and expense sending you to investigate me. What was that evidence?’

  She dropped her gaze from his and took another sip of the whisky she professed to hate.

  ‘The evidence?’ he repeated, his patience waning.

  ‘There were rumours.’

  He drummed his fingers on the table. ‘Rumours? About what?’

  Her chin lifted. ‘That you were embezzling your clients’ funds.’

  ‘What a pile of rubbish. Where did these rumours come from? Because I can assure you they are lies. Markets go up and down but I invest my clients’ money with the same care I would if it were my own. I defy you to find a single investor who would say otherwise.’

  Something flickered on her face, a shamed, guilty expression she tried to cover by taking a bigger sip of her whisky.

  But it was too late. He’d seen it. Seen her guilt.

  ‘The rumours came from you, didn’t they? What did you do? Go to your editor and say you had a credible tip-off about me that was worth investigating?’

  She lifted her head to look at him, her lips drawn tightly together. The truth was right there in her eyes.

  He breathed deeply, trying to contain the anger swirling like a maelstrom in him. ‘Come on, Carrie. It is just you and me. There is no one to hear what we say. We have both been playing games and now it is time for them to stop. Be honest and admit the truth. You went to your editor with a pack of lies about me, didn’t you?’

  Carrie’s chest had compacted so tightly that she couldn’t draw breath.

  They’d both been playing games?

  This had never been a game for her. This had been her sister’s life, which Andreas had destroyed.

  Everything she had done, the risks she had taken, the lies she had told, had all been for Violet and now she had to face that it had all been for nothing.

  He’d rumbled her before she’d even set foot in his office and any secrets he had would remain secret.

  She would never be able to expose him. Violet would never see justice.

  Pulling air into her cramped lungs, she looked him square in the eyes. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Yes. It was a pack of lies. I told my editor that I’d had a tip-off from a credible source that you were embezzling funds and, yes, he believed me.’

  ‘He authorised your investigation into me on nothing more than your word?’

  She leaned forward, willing him to feel every atom of her hate for him. ‘I have spent three years dreaming about bringing you down and when the time came, there was no way I was going to let it slip through my fingers. Believe me, I was very convincing.’

  ‘You have been plotting this for three years?’ He shook his head slowly. ‘I assume this has something to do with your screwed-up sister?’

  His words cut through her like an arsenic-laced blade. ‘Do not speak of Violet like that.’

  Now he was the one to lean forward, close enough for her to see the stubble breaking out on his jaw. ‘I have no idea what kind of a woman she’s grown into but do not delude yourself as to what she was like three years ago. She was a mess.’

  Carrie’s rage consumed her so totally that it took what felt an age before she could speak. When she finally managed to get the words out, they tumbled from her, three years of pent-up heartbreak and anger spilling out in a torrent.

  ‘Yes, Violet was a screwed-up mess. And do you know why? It was because you let your drug-peddling friend seduce her under your own roof. Between you and your bastard friend, you ruined her life, so yes, the reason I’m here is for Violet. I knew all I had to do was find a way into your life and I would find the evidence I needed to expose you as the monster you are and kill the squeaky-clean image you’ve fooled the world into believing.’

  ‘What the hell are you talking about?’

  Andreas had listened to the venom pouring from Carrie’s tongue with growing incredulity and outrage. He’d suspected her motives were personal, that she had a grudge linked back to her sister’s expulsion, but had assumed she had seized the opportunity to investigate and potentially expose him when the opportunity had come.

  While he could take some relief that there was no business rival trying to blacken his name or anything nefarious going on within his company he was unaware of, it felt like ice in his veins to know he’d spent the past three years unaware he had such a dangerous enemy patiently biding her time and working against him.

  ‘As if you don’t know!’ Putting her hands on the table, she rose to her feet like a phoenix emerging from the ashes, her face more animated and alive with colour than he could have believed. ‘James Thomas. Violet met him when she was staying in your home, under your care. He groomed her—what teenager wouldn’t be thrilled to have a rich, handsome man showering her with expensive gifts and attention? He bedded her for the first time on her sixteenth birthday, the clever, underhand bastard. He was thirty-six! They had a six-month affair and in that time he introduced her to drugs and all manner of perversions, and then he dumped her.

  ‘When she refused to go quietly, he threatened to destroy her—five days later and drugs were found in her school bedside table and she was expelled, her life destroyed exactly as he’d promised. You instigated the search of her bedroom, you, his friend, and don’t you dare deny it—the headmistress told me that you had informed her Violet and Natalia had been taking drugs and urged her to search their room. What an amazing coincidence that drugs were only found in Violet’s possessions and only Violet was expelled. Your niece got off scot-free.’

  Andreas took a deep breath, veering from rage to horror and back again, furious at the accusations being levelled at him but also revolted that Carrie—that anyone—could think him capable of covering up such depravity.

  ‘Let me make one thing very clear,’ he said levelly. ‘James Thomas is no friend of mine and never has been. I knew nothing of this.’

  ‘You would say that,’ she scorned.

  He downed his whisky before looking her in the eye. ‘Be very careful, matia mou. I can see you are emotional right now but you have made many slanderous accusations against me and I will defend myself. James Thomas came to my home once, years ago, with a numbe
r of other potential investors for a business dinner. That is the only time I met him because I disliked him on sight and refused to take his business. I don’t remember Violet being there that weekend but accept she could have been. I knew nothing of any affair between them.’

  ‘If you weren’t in cahoots with him—and I congratulate you on keeping your association with him out of the public eye—then why did you get Violet expelled?’

  ‘Because I came home early from an evening out and discovered Violet and Natalia off their heads on drugs and alcohol. It was the weekend before her expulsion. Do you remember? Because I sure as hell do. That is a weekend I will never forget.’

  The rage had turned to bewilderment. ‘You caught them taking drugs?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And you didn’t think to tell me?’

  ‘I would have called you in the morning but events took a turn that changed everything. After letting them know how disgusted I was with their behaviour, I sent them to bed to sleep it off and sober up. An hour later Violet came into my bedroom naked.’

  ‘Liar.’

  ‘I do not lie. In her intoxicated state she thought I was going to call the headmistress to warn her of what I had found. She thought seducing me would soften my anger and stop me reporting them. Violet had left cannabis and cocaine in her bedside table at school and knew it would be found if their room was searched and that she would be expelled. She was already on a final warning for disruptive behaviour as you know perfectly well.’

  Carrie looked as if she were going to be sick.

  She would look worse if he relayed how Violet had tried to climb into his bed and the filthy language she had used. He dreaded to think what kind of films she’d watched to imagine he would find such language a turn-on.

  ‘I will spare you the details but Violet became hysterical when I rejected her. The noise woke Natalia. She tried to calm her and got a smack in the face from Violet for her trouble. If Violet hadn’t been only sixteen I would have kicked her out onto the street. As it was, I waited until morning and sent her home in a cab.

  ‘You are correct that I influenced Violet’s expulsion. I make no apologies for it. Natalia confessed in the morning that Violet had been running wild and using drugs for months. Natalia was being drawn into a world she didn’t know how to escape. That is what prompted me to call the school—I was protecting my niece. I am not in cahoots with James Thomas. I despise the man.’