The Greek's Forbidden Innocent. Annie West
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a way to stop our wedding.’
Mina wanted to tell Carissa to grow a backbone and stand up for herself. But Carissa wasn’t made that way. Besides, she cared for her father, though he’d got her into this mess. Plus it sounded, from other things she’d said, as if Mr Carter hadn’t recovered from his wife’s recent death. That might explain why he’d slipped up at work. A good employer would make allowances for grief. Mina suspected Alexei Katsaros was a domineering tyrant, considering no one but himself.
Irresistibly, her thoughts dragged back to those fraught days after her father’s death. Her future and her sister’s had hung in the balance, their fate determined by a man with little sympathy for their hopes and wishes.
Mina remembered the horror of being utterly powerless.
She refused to let Carissa become a chattel to buy her father out of trouble, or satisfy Katsaros’s desire for a convenient, biddable wife.
‘I’ve packed a bag. I can’t reach my father, so I’ll have to go. But it means leaving Pierre.’ Carissa wrung her hands and Mina felt something snap inside.
Carissa was sweet but she had as much grit as a marshmallow. Between them, Katsaros and Carter could herd her into a marriage that would make her miserable for the rest of her life. Mina couldn’t change her friend into a woman who’d look a thug in the eye and send him packing, or tell her father he couldn’t marry her off to a stranger. But she could delay things long enough for Carissa and Pierre to marry. A few days, a week at most.
‘How long before they collect you?’
Carissa’s answer was drowned by a sharp rap on the door. She gasped and grabbed Mina’s hands.
The last shred of doubt fled Mina’s brain as she read her friend’s terror and despair. Carissa was a pushover, but Mina wasn’t.
She got to her feet.
* * *
‘Still no sign of Carter, sir. He hasn’t been home.’
Alexei’s grip tightened on the phone and he ground his teeth in frustration. But he refrained from chewing out the head of his London office. It wasn’t MacIntyre’s fault Carter had done a bunk. Alexei should have acted sooner, but initially he hadn’t wanted to believe Carter’s guilt. The man had been at his side for years, the only person Alexei really trusted.
That was why his betrayal cut so deep. Trust came hard to Alexei. He’d seen his mother betrayed and cast aside, made into a victim and her life shortened, because she trusted too easily.
Alexei bore a lot of the blame. He’d been gullible, falling for his stepfather’s charm, believing the man genuinely cared. He’d persuaded his mother to let the guy into their lives. Too late they discovered he’d only cultivated Alexei to get to his mother and her dead husband’s insurance payment.
No one could accuse Alexei of gullibility now.
That was what made it so remarkable that, despite his caution, he’d come to believe in Carter. It wasn’t just his way with numbers. His almost uncanny knack for identifying problems and possible solutions. It was his reticence, his scrupulous separation of business and personal life. He’d been the perfect executive.
Until his double-dealing came to light.
Alexei felt that sucker punch of betrayal. Worse this time because he should have known better. He was no innocent kid.
‘Keep me informed. Have the investigator check in daily.’
‘Yes, sir. Of course, sir.’
Alexei ended the call and scraped a hand through his hair, telling himself he’d grown soft. He should have acted sooner. Now he had to play catch-up.
He swung round to pace, ignoring the turquoise water and white sand beyond the window. He didn’t want to be in the Caribbean, no matter how restful his private retreat. He wanted to be wherever Carter was. The man’s depredations had been deep. Not enough to destabilise Alexei’s business but enough to send a ripple of disquiet through anyone savvy enough to discover Alexei had been duped.
Despite his policy of employing the best, most innovative people in the industry, Alexei Katsaros was his company as far as the market was concerned. He’d worked hard to establish one of the world’s leading software companies and build a reputation as a canny entrepreneur. His nose for success was only rivalled by his company’s groundbreaking IT solutions. News of his fallibility would crack that image and damage his company’s position.
Damn Carter. Where was he hiding?
Alexei slammed to a halt as he heard a vehicle through the open window.
At last. The ace up his sleeve.
Alexei breathed deep, easing cramped lungs, assuring himself that now, finally, he had the upper hand.
He crossed to the window and watched as the four-wheel drive pulled up. The driver’s door opened but before Henri could get out the front passenger door swung open and someone alighted.
Alexei’s brow twitched into a frown. That couldn’t be her. He waited for the rear door to open but it stayed steadfastly shut. Henri walked ponderously to the rear of the vehicle and pulled out a single suitcase of candy pink.
That was all. One suitcase and one passenger, though not the passenger he expected.
Alexei’s frown became a scowl. The call from Paris had assured him that she’d been collected from her apartment and deposited on his jet. Yet surely this wasn’t Carter’s daughter. He’d expected a fashion tragic with mountains of luggage.
His gaze rested on the svelte figure of a woman who stood, hands on her hips and head back, surveying his home. Far from being addicted to high-end fashion as he’d been led to believe, she wasn’t dressed in designer casuals for a tropical island holiday, but for...what? A yoga class? An artist’s garret?
Understanding took root. That was it.
Carter, when he’d raised the preposterous idea of a match between Alexei and his daughter, had waxed voluble about the girl he’d never mentioned in years of employment. He’d wittered on about her beauty and charm, her sweet disposition and eagerness to please. And her aspirations to be an artist in between shopping. She lived in Paris, playing at an artistic career, no doubt funded by the money Carter had embezzled from Alexei.
Pain radiated from Alexei’s jaw down his neck to his tight shoulders.
He yanked his thoughts from Carter’s crimes to the man’s daughter.
She took her pretensions seriously. Or perhaps the outfit was for his benefit, though surely it wasn’t designed to please a man. Flat black shoes, black leggings and an oversized black T-shirt that gaped over one shoulder.
Definitely not Alexei’s style. He preferred a woman who dressed like a woman.
Yet even as he dismissed Carissa Carter as not his type, his gaze lingered on the length of shapely legs silhouetted in black. Long legs, the sort of legs he’d enjoy wrapped around his waist during sex.
His gaze flicked higher, skimming her slight figure. He supposed, in the right gear, she’d be a perfect clothes horse, but personally he preferred a woman whose curves were more abundant.
Then the tilt of her head altered and he found himself face-to-face with her.
She was too far away for him to make out her features properly. Just good bone structure and dark hair pulled ruthlessly back into a bun. He had the impression of a wide, mobile mouth, but he wasn’t paying attention. His thoughts were on the sudden throb pulsing through his belly.
It couldn’t be attraction. Not for the daughter of a criminal. A woman whose lifestyle had probably fed her father’s depredations. He had no proof Carissa Carter knew of her father’s crimes, but she’d benefited. Maybe she’d been in on the scheme, eager to fund her easy life in Paris. Alexei couldn’t trust her. He’d play the part