Sensible Housekeeper, Scandalously Pregnant Page 11

  “This house could be so lovely,” she said softly.

  His lips twisted. “Do not fall in love. We will be here only a few days.” He pushed open a door. “You will sleep in here.”

  This bedroom, at least, had been neatly tended. A small crib had been set up in the darkest corner near the large, modern bed.

  With an intake of breath, Louisa turned back to him, her eyes shining. She’d wondered if he had any goodness left in his soul, but he must. Or why else would he have been so kind? “Thank you for letting me sleep in the same room as the baby. I promise you can trust me. I won’t take Noah anywhere without your permission.”

  “I know you won’t.” His eyes were dark. “Because you and I will be sharing a bed.”

  She looked sharply at the bed. The enormous bed. And imagined what he planned to do to her there.

  She’d thought she would do anything to keep her baby…but this?

  Give her body to the man who hated her? Who had such power over her? Who wanted revenge for the way she’d kept his son a secret?

  She repressed a shiver, remembering the last time they’d been in bed together on the private Greek island. She’d been so happy then. He’d made her light up with joy from without and within, given her such pleasure she hadn’t even imagined it possible.

  If she gave him her body ever again, how much longer would it be before he owned every inch of her soul?

  Any woman who loved Rafael Cruz would ultimately be destroyed by that love. Because he had no love to give. He offered only seduction, not love. He had a heart of ice.

  And if at times he seemed to care, if he seemed to be vulnerable after all, that was the most dangerous illusion of all.

  Straightening her shoulders, she turned to face him. “I won’t sleep with you.”

  “You will,” he said, a sensual smile tracing his mouth. “You are my wife.”

  She licked her lips. “Just because we are legally married does not mean you own me!”

  “Does it not?” he said softly.

  He approached her, and for a moment she thought he intended to kiss her. Then the baby started to whimper and squirm in her arms. He stopped.

  “Take care of my son,” he said. “When you are done, I will be waiting.”

  Cuddling Noah in the bedroom, she fed him once they were alone. When he was asleep, she tucked him tenderly into the crib. The only sound was the quiet, even breathing of their sleeping baby as she finally left the bedroom, closing the door softly behind her.

  She looked up with an intake of breath when she saw him waiting for her at the end of the hall, a dark, towering figure in a house full of shadows.

  Rafael’s eyes never left hers as he came slowly toward her. He put his hands on her shoulders, and she shivered.

  How long could she resist him?

  God help her if he ever reverted to the charming, seductive man she’d once known, the man with a gift for words and a light in his dark eyes that could convince any woman that she, and only she, could bring out the good in his heart.

  God help her if Rafael decided to make her love him again.

  “Come,” he whispered.

  Taking her hand, he pulled her down the hall. Dinner had been catered in and served on the massive oak dining table overlooking the wall of windows and the view of the city. The servers set up the food, then departed, along with the bodyguards.

  Louisa was alone with Rafael, with no chaperone but their sleeping baby down the hall. She looked out toward the windows, past the ghostly white furniture covered with sheets. He opened a bottle of Argentinian red wine and poured it into two crystal goblets.

  It should have felt intimate, and yet in the neglected penthouse it felt cold. Soulless. The food was delicious, but this place didn’t feel like home. It felt dead. It felt like a prison.

  And Rafael was her jailer.

  She thought of the snug little apartment she’d left behind in Key West, of the sunshine and sound of the sea and her niece’s laughter, and felt a lump in her throat. She set down her fork with a clang against the china plate.

  “Don’t you like the empanadas?” he asked.

  “They’re delicious,” she murmured. “But it doesn’t feel like home.”

  “Still a housekeeper at heart?” he said mockingly.

  She lifted her chin. “I’d rather cook for us. For our family.”

  “Just take care of Noah. That is enough. We won’t be here long.” His eyes narrowed, and the darkness in his gaze scared her. “I have some business in Buenos Aires. A payback that has been a long time coming.” He smiled. “Once that’s done, querida,” he said, “we will return to Paris.”

  Paris. She thought of her memories there with a shiver. Back to Paris. Where she’d first surrendered to her desire for her playboy boss. Where she thought he’d opened up his soul to her.

  She couldn’t let herself fall for him again—couldn’t!

  He might have some kind of sensual power over her that she could not fight—but she wouldn’t let him have her soul!

  She took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders.

  “I cannot just live with you, doing nothing,” she said quietly. “I married you and came to Buenos Aires because you left me no choice, but you must see that this cannot last. Let me at least act the part of your housekeeper. Because you do not want me as your wife.”

  “And you?” he said mockingly. “Do you want me as your husband?”

  She swallowed, trying not to remember the ridiculous dreams she’d had after she’d first found out she was pregnant, when she’d dreamed of Rafael falling in love with her. When she’d imagined him changing somehow into a good father, a good husband. Then, she’d wanted…

  She shook her head. She wouldn’t think of it! “I was doing fine on my own. Noah and I were happy in Key West.”

  “Too bad.” He took a drink of the expensive red wine from the crystal glass. “You’re never going back.”

  It was exactly what she’d feared he would say, but she lifted her head defiantly. “Of course we’re going back. I have a business to run, and a family that needs me—”

  “Consider the bakery a gift to your sister,” he said carelessly. “She now owns it.”

  She stared at him in shock, then narrowed her eyes.

  “You are out of your mind,” she said tersely, stabbing her fork toward him in midair for emphasis, “if you think I’ll let you just give away the business I love, the business I built and created with my life savings after I worked for you for five hard years—”

  “Yes, I am certain that was a fate worse than death,” he said coolly, taking another sip of the red wine. “But your sister and her daughter will do well with the bakery. They will be happy and secure. That is what you want, is it not?”

  She ground her teeth.

  “Of course it is. But I want to be there with them! I’ve missed too much time with them already,” she said softly, then shook her head. “Florida is my home. You cannot take me away from a place where I’ve made friends—”

  “Sí,” he said sardonically. “I saw your many friends when I was there. Why don’t you admit the truth about why you’re so desperate to return?”

  “Because I hate the sight of you?”

  To her frustration, he seemed untouched by her jab. He only gave her a cold smile. “Who is he?”

  “He?”

  “The man you have been seeing. Or was there more than one? I might have been your first experience in bed, but how long did you wait for your second and third and fourth?” His cold eyes met hers over the table. “Tell me, Louisa. How many men did you invite to your bed while you were still pregnant with my child?”

  She stared at him in horror. Then, she rose from the table. Looking down at him, she raised her hand but he grabbed her wrists. He was so strong she could not pull away.

  He stared at her for a moment in cold fury. She felt the pounding of her own heart, heard the soft gasp of her own breath. Felt the electricity in
the air suddenly change between them.

  Then, lowering his head to hers, he claimed her mouth in a punishing kiss.

  Louisa tried to fight. Tried to push him away. He was bruising her, hurting her—

  Then his kiss suddenly gentled. His hold on her became seductive, his arms caressing her softly, so softly, that her shirt and shorts disappeared as if blown off her body by a light warm breeze. His lips moved against her so tenderly, so lovingly, that she could not resist.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck as he lifted her up into his arms and carried her, not to the bed, but to the nearby couch covered with a white sheet. There, he made love to her with such amazing tenderness that she wept.

  Afterward, as she held him and he slept in her arms, she looked out at the view of the city and was suddenly reminded of their first night together, in Paris. The night she’d admitted to herself that she was in love with him.

  Now, she looked at him in the slanted light from the windows, curled up beside her on the long, wide sofa covered with the white sheet. She listened to the rise and fall of his breath, felt the warmth of his skin against her cheek, heard the beat of his heart with her head against his chest.

  And knew she still loved him.

  She’d been in love with him secretly, hopefully, desperately for years. The sixteen months they’d spent apart, where she’d tried to convince herself she didn’t love him anymore, had changed nothing.

  She loved him.

  And, from the way he’d touched her in the night, was it possible he could love her…?

  No, she told herself fiercely. It’s just his nature. His body promises what his soul cannot deliver.

  And yet…

  They had a child together. Could somehow, by some miracle, Louisa be the one to reach Rafael’s heart, to make him whole, to heal his soul so they could be the real, loving family she longed for them to be?

  She heard Noah cry. Quietly, so she wouldn’t wake her husband, she crept out of his arms and went down the hall. Pulling on her clothes, she padded softly across the apartment to feed the baby and rock him back to sleep.

  She returned to the living room with her heart in her throat, full of dreams and plans and hopes to help Rafael be the man she needed. The man she loved. The man she was convinced he was born to be. She could hardly wait to sleep in his arms…

  She stopped abruptly when she saw the sofa was empty.

  He came up behind her. She whirled around to discover him wearing a white terry cloth robe, clearly just come from the shower.

  “That was enjoyable,” he said coolly, drying his wet hair with a towel. “I think I may like having a wife.”

  She tilted her head, her heart pounding with hope. “You think so?” she whispered.

  His lips curved. “Of course. You’re in my bed. At my service. And apparently wishing to cook and clean for me whenever you’re not satisfying me in bed. I’m saving a great deal of money, since I don’t even have to pay you. You are—” he reached out to stroke her cheek “—every man’s dream wife.”

  She swallowed, trembling as she looked up into his cold gray eyes. “You are trying to hurt me. Why?”

  “I said I will enjoy our marriage. And you—will not.” Pulling his hand away, he leaned forward until his handsome face was inches from her own. “Nothing has changed,” he whispered. His eyes were a mesmerizing gray. “You will regret the day you stole my son away from me.”

  Pain stabbed through her. Was that all their night together had been for him? She’d thought—dreamed—it could be some kind of new start for them, the sweet promise of forgiveness and a new life, raising their son together.

  He’d fooled her yet again. His tenderness, his sensuality, had been the weapons he’d used to punish her!

  She had the sudden image of the pain he could inflict on her, this man she loved, this man she’d once known so well.

  I can’t offer you marriage. But for as long as we’re together, I promise I will be faithful to you.

  She sucked in her breath. He’d cared for her. He still did. It was only his anger that was making him try to hurt her!

  But she wouldn’t let him. She wouldn’t let him destroy their chance of being a family. Somehow, in spite of everything, she would break through his anger and make him forgive her!

  It was their only hope…

  She looked up at him. She could tell he was waiting for her to get upset, to yell, to cry.

  Instead she took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry?” he ground out. “For stealing my son? You think an apology is enough?”

  She nodded. “I thought I had no choice,” she said simply. “If I’d told you I was pregnant in Istanbul, you would have insisted I was a gold digger—and punished me. Instead I tried to raise our son on my own, without any help from you. So you accuse me of being vindictive—and you want to punish me.” She lifted her eyes to meet his. “Have you ever considered that you are an impossible man to please? Have you ever considered,” she said quietly, “that the problem might be you?”

  He stared at her.

  “Are you joking?” he growled.

  She folded her arms over the paper-thin fabric of her tank top, wishing she had more clothes than her little shirt and shorts, more armor to protect her as she faced him. If only, she thought, she had one of her old gray woolen suits, her old thick black-framed glasses!

  But all she had was herself. That would have to be enough.

  She took a deep breath. “I still love you, Rafael,” she whispered, then gave him a tremulous smile. “There. I said it. In spite of your faults, in spite of your weakness, I love you.”

  “My weakness?” he exploded.

  She shivered at the danger in his dark eyes. But she still forced herself to be brave enough to speak the truth in her heart.

  “A strong man,” she said, “allows himself to be vulnerable. He shows his love at any cost. A truly strong man gives everything he has—everything he is—to his family. He loves with all his heart and holds nothing back!”

  “And where did you learn that? Housekeeping school?” he sneered.

  “No,” she said simply, facing down his sarcasm. “I learned it from my father, who though he never made a fortune, he made us feel every day like we were valued and loved.”

  Rafael sucked in his breath through his teeth.

  “Forget it,” he barked. Pulling on some jeans and a black T-shirt, he stuffed his feet into black Italian-made shoes and headed for the door.

  “Where are you going?”

  He looked back at her just once. His face was dark in the shadows of the apartment.

  “Out,” he said.

  “Out? Out where? It’s midnight!”

  He gave a hard laugh. “The night is young—for me. I guess I’m too weak to stay.” His eyebrows lowered as he ordered her, “Be ready for me upon my return. Perhaps I will want you again.” A cold smile curved his mouth. “Perhaps not.”

  She stared at him, her heart throbbing painfully in her throat.

  “Don’t do this, Rafael,” she choked out, blinking back tears. “Stay and talk to me. Please. I want so much for us to—”

  “I’ve had enough talk for one night,” he said coldly. Opening the door, he walked out. She saw him have a quiet word with the huge bodyguard outside as the door closed behind him.

  Louisa shook with humiliation and despair. She went to the window and stepped out onto the wrought-iron balcony, staring out into the twinkling lights of Recoleta and all Buenos Aires beyond it in the warm, humid night.

  Looking down, she watched Rafael leave the building, watched him with her heart in her throat and tears streaking her face.

  He glanced up. Their eyes met.

  Then he coldly turned away. He climbed into the yellow sports car his bodyguard had brought to the curb. Stepping on the gas, he drove off into the night.

  Where was he going? Louisa wondered with anguish. To meet another woman?

  She stayed
on the balcony for a long time after he left, feeling trapped, feeling helpless. The city at her feet still seemed to be busy and alive, noisy and young. All of the things she no longer felt.

  Louisa was so tired, but she knew she would not be able to sleep. Not when her emotions were so wound up. Not when pain and love and helplessness made her shake.

  Then she had an idea.

  If Rafael couldn’t stand a direct discussion, she would come at him sideways.

  She would lure him into their marriage through the weak point he would never think to guard. She would seduce him with her skills. She would give him a home.

  A small smile traced her lips as she left the balcony. Crossing the apartment, she flung open the front door. She spoke directly to his head bodyguard outside, an American named Evan Jones who rose respectfully to his feet.

  “I need your help,” she told him coolly, in her housekeeper voice that no staff member could ever resist. And neither did he.

  As she gave him her instructions, Louisa suddenly felt a surge of optimism. She might no longer be Rafael’s housekeeper, but she still had power in his life. More than she’d ever had before. And though he did not know it, Rafael himself had given it to her. He’d done it when he’d made her his wife.

  Chapter Nine

  RAFAEL didn’t return to the apartment until noon the next day.

  He’d met some old school friends for a drink, but when women had come up to them at the bar, he’d found himself bored. Not just bored—uncomfortable. And so he’d left.

  But he couldn’t go home. Not after what Louisa had said.

  In spite of your faults, in spite of your weakness, I love you.

  His hands clenched to remember it. How did she dare? His weakness? No woman had ever said such a thing to him before! He’d intended to punish her, and yet somehow she’d gotten one step ahead of him!