A Taste of the Forbidden

Cesar opened the file, his brows rising as he immediately saw Grace Blake’s date of birth placing her as being only twenty-six years old. ‘A little young …?’ He eyed Kevin speculatively.

Kevin looked uncomfortable. ‘Her references were excellent.’

‘So you said …’ Cesar sat back in his chair and regarded the younger man with narrowed eyes. ‘Is she also beautiful?’

Kevin flushed. ‘If you think for one moment I would let the way she looks influence me—’

‘So she is beautiful,’ Cesar drawled mockingly. ‘She also does not appear to have been employed for the past eight months …?’ he added after another glance at the file.

‘No. Well. Her mother was very ill, and so she gave up her job to nurse her—’

‘I do not believe I asked for details of her private life, Kevin.’ A nerve pulsed in the tightness of his jaw.

‘I was merely trying to explain—No, of course you didn’t.’ The other man nodded as Cesar simply continued to look up at him. ‘I’ll talk to her about the flowers as soon as we’ve finished here.’

‘See that you do.’ Cesar’s jaw was still tight as he closed the file on Miss Blake with a firm snap before putting it to one side to be read more thoroughly later.

Raphael was still outside bringing himself up to date in regards to the security here, but Cesar had no doubts that when the other man returned he would very quickly ensure that the young and beautiful Miss Blake knew exactly what Cesar would and would not accept from his employees.

Grace was putting the finishing touches to the dessert she was preparing for Cesar Navarro’s dinner when Kevin Maddox strolled into the kitchen. ‘How nice to see you again, Kevin,’ she greeted him warmly.

She had heard the helicopter arrive about fifteen minutes ago, and had hoped that Kevin would have accompanied Mr Navarro. He was someone she considered as being relatively normal, after the past two days of feeling as if her every move were being watched, either from behind those reflective black sunglasses worn by the numerous security guards that constantly seemed to be on duty, or the cameras she had discovered both in the house and the grounds, and no doubt watched over intently by even more security guards in that room full of monitors she had discovered in the basement of the house when she went exploring earlier today!

The cottage she had been given to stay in was more than adequate, luxurious in fact, but the inside of the main house was breathtaking, with its elegant antique furniture and statuary, ornate ceilings and gleaming glass chandeliers, beautiful paintings—all originals, no doubt!—adorning the pale silk-covered walls.

As for the kitchen …!

If she ignored the two security cameras placed strategically in two corners of the room, and the fact that she had to key in a code to get in and out of the back door, then it was possible to appreciate that the mellow oak units gave the room an old-fashioned appeal, at the same time as it was a chef’s delight, with every conceivable appliance necessary to produce the sumptuous cordon bleu meals she was expected to cook for its owner.

But getting in and out of the estate was every bit as much of a nightmare as Grace had thought it might be. As she had learnt when she went to shop for food in the nearest town this morning. Security out, security in, with all of the shopping bags being checked before the same guard from yesterday—Rodney, he had deigned to tell her was his name when she made a point of asking—would allow her and her car back inside the grounds.

Either Navarro was completely paranoid, or he had some really serious enemies. Neither of which possibility particularly appealed to Grace.

Kevin Maddox’s homely good looks, short blond hair and deep blue eyes were like a breath of fresh air after only twenty-four hours of living in this goldfish bowl!

‘Something smells good.’ He nodded approvingly.

Grace nodded back, wearing her usual ‘uniform’ for working in: a crisp white blouse and pencil knee-length black skirt, with her long dark hair brushed back and secured in a ponytail so that it was out of the way as she prepared the food. ‘Carrot soup, followed by grilled sea bass, minted new potatoes, with sautéed Mediterranean vegetables. And for dessert—’

‘Ah.’ Kevin gave a grimace as he looked down at the rich chocolate mousse Grace had been decorating with dark and white chocolate swirls when he entered the kitchen.

Her expression turned to dismay as she saw Kevin’s expression. ‘Mr Navarro doesn’t like chocolate?’

‘Mr Navarro doesn’t eat dessert.’

Her eyes widened. ‘What, none at all?’

‘Nope.’

‘But I specialised as a pastry chef!’

‘I realise that.’ Kevin shrugged. ‘But you also did a cordon bleu cookery course in Paris before you specialised.’

‘That isn’t—’ Grace broke off her impatient protest as she realised it was pointless; for the moment she needed this job, and if Cesar Navarro didn’t eat dessert then he didn’t eat dessert. ‘Is there anything else Mr Navarro doesn’t like to eat?’ She picked up the glass dish of chocolate mousse and placed it in the refrigerator.

‘I didn’t say he doesn’t like dessert, only that he doesn’t eat it,’ Kevin drawled ruefully.

‘No doubt he’s afraid of middle-aged spread—Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.’ Grace sighed.

‘No, you shouldn’t,’ Kevin agreed evenly. ‘But while we’re on the subject, he doesn’t like the flowers in the entrance hall, either. Although, again, that’s my mistake.’ He grimaced. ‘Mrs Davis was here long before I started working for Mr Navarro, and so knew of all his personal quir—preferences. I should have told you about them at our second interview,’ he corrected his lapse briskly.

Grace frowned at Kevin Maddox. ‘He doesn’t like the lilies?’

‘No.’

‘Then what flowers does he like in the house?’

‘He doesn’t.’

She blinked. ‘Does he have an allergy? Hay fever, something like that?’ She knew how awful that could be—depending on the pollen count, her sister, Beth, could suffer dreadfully with hay fever during late spring and early summer, and then again in the autumn at harvest time.

‘Not that I’m aware, no.’

Grace gave a frustrated shake of her head. ‘Then what’s not to like about having flowers in the house?’ The long-stemmed pink lilies were absolutely beautiful, and they had smelt divine when she was arranging them in the vase earlier today.

Kevin shrugged broad shoulders. ‘Experience has shown me that it’s best never to question Mr Navarro’s instructions.’

‘When he says jump people just ask how high, hmm?’ Grace guessed shrewdly.

Kevin gave a wry chuckle. ‘That pretty much sums it up, yes.’

‘And on this occasion he wants me to remove the flowers from the entrance hall?’

‘Yes.’

‘Okay.’ She shrugged.

Kevin gave a sigh of relief. ‘Apart from these few minor hiccups, how are you settling in?’

She wasn’t. And now that Cesar Navarro had actually arrived, bringing yet more restrictions with him, she wasn’t sure she wanted to, either …

The set of rules she had been given before she arrived, and the level of security once she had got here, were all alien enough, but Grace could actually feel Cesar Navarro’s presence in the house now. A dark and arrogantly brooding presence that seemed to pervade the entire estate. Kevin Maddox certainly wasn’t as relaxed and congenial as he had seemed at their two interviews, or during their telephone conversation yesterday, and no doubt Rodney, and his group of security cronies, were on even higher alert now that their boss was in residence.

How did people live in this way? How did Cesar Navarro live this way? Constantly shielded, in a protective bubble, set apart from the real world? Grace had no idea, but it certainly wasn’t a lifestyle she would ever want for herself. Not that she would ever be rich enough, or important enough, to need to bother!

She gave Kevin a bright, noncommittal smile. ‘The cottage is lovely, and this kitchen is amazing.’ She looked about her appreciatively.

‘That’s good.’ He nodded, obviously pleased with her answer. ‘Raphael will be down shortly to check on Mr Navarro’s dinner.’ He gave a glance at his wristwatch as he straightened. ‘Time I was leaving.’