He gestured to the London skyline. “Brave enough to leave this place straight away? To leave London with me?”
Kizzy stared at him blankly, unable to work out what was going on inside their huge, floating bubble of glass. “Leave? Now?”
“In the next thirty minutes.”
“And go where exactly?”
“Somewhere I can keep a close eye on you until I sort out some legal guarantees between us. I agree to provide you with work and accommodation in return for your cooperation with regard to the Antonides family. The ‘future’ part is up to you, but you’ll have the tools to make it happen. I want you to come to Greece with me. The island of Rhodes, to be precise.”
“But I’ve nothing with me, no spare clothes.”
“Don’t worry.” A slow smile formed as his dark eyes trailed her body from head to toe. “You won’t be needing many clothes.”
Chapter Two
Kizzy blinked away the fierce sunshine of Rhodes and, in spite of her previous protestations, flipped down the designer sunglasses that Andreas had insisted on buying her…along with a wardrobe’s worth of the finest silk and linen daywear money could buy.
“So, still want your woolen suit back? And those stockings?” Andreas flicked Kizzy a condescending smile, then urged her to speed up as he marched her through one of the ancient stone gates in the city ramparts toward the harbor.
“That wouldn’t be very sensible under the circumstances. They did have a run in them,” Kizzy replied breathlessly. His strides were a good deal longer than hers.
She tossed her head belligerently, glad of the sunglasses in case her eyes gave away just how intimidated and awestruck she was feeling.
It had cut her to the core having to accept an entirely new and outrageously expensive set of clothes. But Andreas had insisted. He’d said it was a non-negotiable part of the deal.
She had, however, managed to salvage a shred of pride by refusing to try on anything that could not be justified as necessary for everyday practical purposes, leaving her with a few casual pieces and a couple of smarter combinations that would do for business, whatever that would amount to. And just two pairs of shoes. Flat ones.
“I didn’t ask for all this stuff,” she pointed out. “If you’d given me time to go home and pack, I could have saved you a fortune.”
“And let you loose on my hard-earned business interests dressed like some backwater funeral director? That suit was…” He cocked his head to one side and surveyed her slowly from head to toe. “Let’s just say you’re better off being guided on such matters.”
Kizzy stopped dead in her tracks. Her cheeks sizzled with indignation. This man was so insulting. “I’ve never had money to burn, as it happens,” she replied, with undisguised contempt.
“Well I do, and most women would lap it up. So what’s your problem?”
“Problem?” Kizzy let out a hollow laugh. “You’ve turned my whole world on its head, flown me thousands of miles, insulted my dress sense, and my integrity, and I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be doing apart from keeping my mouth shut of course.” She frowned. “I’m curious, Mr. Lazarides. Just what sort of job am I here to do?”
Andreas tightened his lips thoughtfully and took a moment to savor the amethyst fire that was dancing in her eyes. Kizzy Dean was clearly not going to be the fawning, simpering variety of female he was accustomed to, employee or otherwise. Her manner was irritating, in that it was beginning to take up more of his valuable time than he’d like, but there was something else happening. A dart of amusement hit him. This was like being attacked by an angry dormouse—painless enough, but impossible to ignore.
“I’ve not decided yet. I intend to assess your skills over the next few days, to see what can be done with you.” He allowed his eyes to drop to her new silk camisole as it fluttered against her breasts in the breeze, deliberately provoking more annoyance by studying her at length. “But we won’t go rushing you into haute couture or customer relations.”
“You promised me a job,” Kizzy pointed out, only belatedly realizing that he had her at a complete disadvantage. She didn’t speak a word of Greek, had no money and nowhere to go.
She then remembered with horror that he hadn’t returned her passport at the airport, so she had no form of identification either. She felt the blood drain from her face as her hand strayed to a nonexistent inside pocket. He’d taken her cell phone to call his driver in London—he still had that too. There was nothing to stop him from just dumping her in the middle of the ocean and leaving her to drown. No one was going to raise the alarm in England now, were they?
“And a job you shall have, plus accommodation. But if you can’t behave yourself and are determined to be difficult, the chances are you will get a mediocre, undemanding job.” Lazarides was clearly enjoying her discomfort. His chin lifted, baiting her. “If you are a good girl, however…”
Kizzy’s dry mouth opened to deliver a blistering response, but before she could reply her attention was drawn down to the left hand side of her body. The hem of her expensive new cream jacket appeared to be trapped. The fabric was suddenly dragging at her body, tugging her insistently backward and down to…a child. Large avocado stone eyes stared up, from a sallow, dirty face that had cheekbones just a little too prominent for a boy of what Kizzy estimated to be nine or ten years old. The boy’s face broke into a nervous smile as he began to pump away at a battered accordion.
“Parakalo?” he ventured, holding out a dirty, trembling hand.
“What’s he saying?” Kizzy asked as she instinctively went to brush the matted hair out of his eyes.
“What do you think he’s saying? He’s begging for money.” Andreas thrust out his own hand to block her palm from making contact with the little boy. “And begging is frowned upon—especially here, where he’s likely to offend and annoy most of the super-yacht owners he encounters. He’s also infested with lice.”
Kizzy felt an icy wave course through her body in spite of the searing heat. It was only a matter of hours ago that she had been a disheveled, pitiful mess at the mercy of this coldhearted Greek. Her heart went out to the waif.
“But look at the state of him. Couldn’t we give him something?”
“Absolutely not.”
Andreas eased himself between Kizzy and the puny wretch, and bent to issue a few harsh phrases in Greek. The child’s eyes opened wide to show their blemished whites and he quickly snatched up an old ice cream tub containing a few coins from the dusty promenade. Kizzy stared open-mouthed as the boy ran away as fast as he could in dirty, worn, adult-sized trainers that swamped his tiny feet. They flapped noisily around his ankles and Kizzy felt her insides twist with sickening fury.