had flown to England especially to complete. ‘If Drey-fuss does not—What are these?’ He came to an abrupt halt beside the table standing in the middle of the hallway.
Kevin winced as he looked at the decorative vase of flowers. ‘Er—lilies?’
Cesar’s jaw tightened. ‘The minute we finish our conversation I want them removed,’ he snapped before continuing on down the hallway to his study.
‘Of course.’ Wisely, the other man didn’t so much as question why as he trailed behind him.
Cesar waited until he was seated behind the huge mahogany desk in his study before pinning the younger man with the darkness of his gaze. ‘I am sure I have made it more than clear that there are never to be flowers inside the house?’
Kevin grimaced. ‘I apologise. I must have omitted to mention that to Miss Blake …’
Cesar arched a dark brow. ‘The new housekeeper?’
‘Mrs Davis retired—’
‘I am well aware of that. I believe I gave her a cheque on her retirement.’ The firmness of his mouth quirked derisively.
‘Yes, you did,’ Kevin confirmed, having been responsible for the delivery of that cheque. ‘I obviously sent Miss Blake’s file to Raphael for his approval.’
‘Obviously.’ Cesar nodded tersely. ‘You have a copy of that file with you now?’
‘Of course.’ Kevin opened his briefcase and removed the appropriate file before handing it to him. ‘She’s a little young but her references were excellent, and as I said, the security check on her panned out.’
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