Sensible Housekeeper, Scandalously Pregnant Page 13

  But would she still be his wife next week? Louisa’s hands tightened on the handle of the stroller.

  “Shall we walk back to the apartment?” he said.

  Her eyes widened. “You have time? Now, in the middle of the day?”

  Rafael shrugged. “It is a beautiful morning. I’ll make time.”

  She swallowed. Of all the days she’d wished he would spend time with her, he was choosing now? Now, when she was racked with guilt and fear over what she’d done, bringing his mother secretly to Paris? She took a deep breath and tried to smile. “That would be lovely.”

  They walked together along the river. She gave him little glances. He’d been busy constantly with work since they’d arrived in Paris. He’d had time only to give his baby son a kiss each morning before he left—and when he came home late at night, he’d climbed into bed beside Louisa and made passionate love to her in the dark. But this was the most they’d spoken together in weeks.

  In many ways, nothing had changed since the last time she’d lived in this city. She still based her whole world around Rafael Cruz, running his home and trying to gain his approval.

  But in other ways, everything had changed. While she still oversaw the house, Rafael wanted her to spend her time as mother to their son—and as his wife. Which meant far too many shopping trips to the designer boutiques of the nearby Rue du Faubourg St-Honoré. In fact, in a few days, she would attend her first society ball on his arm.

  The thought of attending the soirees she’d once organized for him, not as his housekeeper but as his wife, terrified her. The thought of facing all the various women he’d once slept with—and for all she knew, might someday sleep with again—made her ill.

  She’d tried to create a loving home. But it wasn’t enough, not nearly enough. He still didn’t allow himself to be vulnerable. He still wouldn’t allow himself to love either her or the baby.

  Springtime in Paris was lovely. The flowers and trees were starting to come back to life. The baby was awake and chortling happily, kicking his feet in the air as Rafael pushed the stroller, by the time they reached the eighteenth-century building near the Champs-Élysées. Rafael owned the entire building, but only used the top two floors to live in. The floor beneath was for his bodyguards and assistants, and the several floors below that were being used as office space until the new headquarters was finished.

  As the elevator opened to their spacious penthouse, Louisa took a deep breath at the beauty of the home and the view of the city. She could see the Eiffel Tower across the river. Even as housekeeper, she’d loved this home; and now she was not only its mistress, but the mistress of all Rafael’s homes around the world.

  But if he knew the truth about how she’d brought his mother to Paris and allowed her to spend time with Noah behind his back…

  It was wrong. Louisa knew she shouldn’t have done it. But he was so caught up in his ideas of revenge.

  How could she ever make him forgive his mother, how could she ever get him to open his heart, without causing him irreparable harm?

  A sudden thought occurred to her.

  She could tell him the truth. Rather than wait for him to find out what she’d done—rather than avoid conflict, as she always had—she could take the bull by the horns and tell him all about it.

  But the thought terrified her. No. She couldn’t risk it!

  Later that night, with their baby sleeping in his lavish nursery, a few hours after Louisa had gone to bed, she felt Rafael climb in beside her. She always slept naked, as he preferred. Before she was quite sure whether she was dreaming, he was kissing her. She felt him on top of her, felt his body hot and hard against hers. Within moments, she was crying out her pleasure, and she heard his shout as he collapsed on top of her.

  Afterward, he held her close in his arms in the darkness.

  “I have a gift for you,” he murmured against her skin.

  She looked up at him in the shadows, her heart in her throat. “What is it?”

  He purred in her ear, “Do you remember that private Greek island?”

  How could she forget? Those were the happiest two days of her life. “Of course.”

  He kissed her temple and whispered, “I bought it for you today.”

  She sucked in her breath. “You—bought it?”

  “Novros wasn’t sure he wanted to sell.” She heard his smile in the darkness. “But I convinced him.”

  “Thank you,” she said softly. Her eyes filled with tears as she held him tightly to her.

  His hand moved toward her naked breast. “Anything for you, querida.”

  Anything?

  Suddenly she knew she had to take the gamble. She wanted him to trust her. She didn’t want to lie to him.

  She loved him. He gave her everything she could want when it came to money, but so little of himself except his lovemaking, which was very inventive and satisfying. Now he’d given her an entire island, but it was still not enough. Not nearly enough.

  She wanted him.

  She wanted him to be the man he was born to be. The good, kind, loyal man she knew he had inside him, beneath all the calloused armor.

  She entwined her fingers in his. “I have…a favor to ask you.”

  “A favor?”

  Her teeth chattered. Was favor the right word to describe her request that he give up all thoughts of revenge, give up all his other women, and love her madly, as she loved him? “It’s bigger than a favor.”

  “Ah. It takes more than a Greek island to impress you, does it?” He gave her a wicked half smile as he slowly moved his hand over her naked belly. “I will see what else I can do.”

  Though he’d just barely brought her to gasping fulfillment, she could feel that he already wanted her again. She felt the same. But before his touch could utterly distract her from taking the risk she must take, she put her hand over his own, stopping him.

  “I have to tell you something,” she whispered. “But I’m afraid.”

  “You can tell me anything,” he said. “You’ve started to earn back my trust, querida,” he says softly. “I am glad of that.”

  A huge jolt went through her.

  “I brought your mother to Paris,” she blurted out. “I spoke with her at the café today.” Her teeth chattered as she looked up at him and whispered, “You have to forgive her.”

  Rafael felt sucker-punched as he stared down at her.

  “You brought my mother to Paris?” he said in a low voice. “You allowed her to see Noah?”

  “Yes,” she said, staring up at him, her hazel-brown eyes wide.

  He ripped his hand away from her. As he rose naked to his feet from the bed, the world seemed to be spinning around him. “You disobeyed me.”

  She shook her head desperately. “I’m trying to save you!”

  “Save me?” he ground out.

  “Your mother loves you. You have to forgive her. She had a good reason for not telling you about your father!”

  He sucked in his breath. “What was it?”

  “I…I…” She hesitated. “I can’t tell you.”

  His heart beat rapidly inside his hollow chest. There was a metallic taste in his mouth. “You betrayed me.”

  She grabbed his hand. “I could have lied to you. But I’m telling you the truth. I’m telling you now, rather than doing it behind your back. I—”

  He was beyond listening. “I told you what would happen if you ever betrayed me.”

  She looked stricken, as if he’d just slapped her.

  “Please,” she whispered. “I was only trying to make us a real family.”

  He reached for his clothes and swiftly got dressed. “I told you what would happen,” he repeated.

  His words were cold and even, but inside, he felt sick.

  He’d never thought she would betray him like this. He’d never thought he would have to carry through on his threat, but now he had no choice.

  “But, Rafael,” she whispered, “I love you.”

&nbs
p; “Love? All that you’ve proven,” he said harshly, “is that every time I start to trust you, you stab me in the back.”

  “But I didn’t—I told you the truth!”

  “Yes, after the fact.” How smug they must be right now, both the women in his life who’d conspired against him and made him look like a powerless fool in his own house! “I told you what would happen if you ever crossed me. Get out of my house. I’ll be filing for divorce.”

  “I’m not leaving you, not now, not ever! But you can’t treat your mother so shamefully, not when she is innocent of what you think she did—”

  “She told you that, I suppose?” He sneered.

  Louisa started to speak, then cut herself off. She took a deep breath. “She didn’t have to tell me. I saw it in her eyes! She loves you, she would die to protect you. The same as I feel about Noah!”

  “You’ll have to love him from a distance,” he said coldly. “Because I’m cutting you out of his life.”

  “I won’t leave him—or you! If you want me to go, you’ll have to throw me…” she flung her arms toward the wide tree-lined boulevard of the Champs Élysées “…out that window!”

  “Very dramatic,” he said acidly, following her gaze. “But your little act won’t save you.”

  Now fully dressed, he strode out of the room and headed straight for the nursery. He heard Louisa rush to follow him, scrambling for a robe.

  But Rafael didn’t pause. He didn’t stop. He simply collected his sleeping son from the crib. Noah immediately started to cry when he was woken up. His wails matched Louisa’s screams and sobs as she abandoned her attempts at tying her robe and clutched wildly at his arm.

  “No!” she screamed. “You can’t take him away from me!”

  He stared at her, feeling unmoved. Feeling absolutely nothing.

  Or so he told himself.

  “My lawyer will be in contact,” he told her coldly. Ripping his arm away, he carried his son downstairs and had two words with the bodyguard in the small apartment below.

  Louisa tried to follow him, but at his orders, his bodyguard held her back as Rafael left.

  When Rafael arrived at his favorite hotel ten minutes later, he felt guilt and pain threatening to bubble up inside him as he climbed out of the chauffeured limousine. He pushed the emotion away. He told himself Louisa was no decent mother, no decent woman. She’d lied like all the rest.

  She didn’t deserve either Rafael—or their son.

  By the time Rafael had checked into the penthouse suite at the hotel, and their part-time nanny had arrived after his assistant’s frantic call, the baby still was crying. But even after the plump, motherly Frenchwoman had come up to the suite and taken the baby tenderly in her arms, Noah wouldn’t stop crying. He cried until his little face was red.

  And slowly, Rafael realized he was the liar.

  Louisa had made him a liar.

  Because he could not follow through with his threat. Damn her! He could not separate his son from her. No matter how she’d betrayed him, no matter if she deserved it, he could not see his son suffer without his mother.

  Cursing her, cursing himself, he realized he would have to allow her access to their child. But their marriage was over, he told himself furiously. It was done. But as he reached for his phone to call Louisa, it rang in his hand.

  “I never thought you could do something like this. Ever.”

  He frowned. “Mamá?” he replied slowly, almost not recognizing her voice.

  “Louisa called. How could you take her baby from her? How could you! You are not the man I thought you were!”

  He ground his teeth. Of course Louisa had called her! “What happened between my wife and me is no concern of yours.”

  “I am downstairs. I have something to tell you. Come down now.”

  “Why should I?” he said stiffly.

  “See me this one last time, mi hijo. One last time before I go back to Argentina.”

  The phone clicked softly in his hands.

  Rafael set his jaw. Fine. One short conversation would be a small price to pay to get the woman out of their lives forever. Rafael made sure his son was tucked away in the second bedroom with the French nanny, then went downstairs.

  He found Agustina at the bar. He expected her to try to immediately look at him with timid love and a pleading smile, as she always had for the last twenty years.

  But this time, she’d changed. She was no longer the soft, anxious woman he remembered. Her face was stern. She started speaking the instant he sat beside her at the darkened hotel bar.

  “I’ve tried to protect you for all your life,” she said without preamble. “But you are a man. At a certain point, no parent can protect their child. And now that I’ve heard what you’ve just done, I fear my protecting you has done you more harm than good.” She pushed some pages toward him on the smooth polished dark wood of the bar. “Here.”

  A sneer twisted his lips as he reached for the pages.

  The sneer soon dropped off his mouth as he read the old faded words. His eyes widened. He turned the page. He couldn’t stop reading it. Five minutes later, he got the final stab in his throat when he read who’d signed the letter. His whole body felt cold when he finally looked up into the eyes of his mother.

  “My father wrote this letter,” he whispered, then shook his head, trying to get some warmth back into his body. “You told him you were pregnant with his child. And he told you to get rid of me.”

  His mother’s eyes, so much like his own, looked at him steadily. “Yes. When I wouldn’t, he sent me his gold ring. He said that was all I would ever get from him.”

  “Why?” he said over the lump in his throat. “Why didn’t he want me?”

  “He disliked children. And he’d never been in love with me. I found out he’d never even been faithful to me.” She took a deep breath. “I was so young. I had no way to support us. I went back to Buenos Aires and married the man my parents had wanted me to marry all along. Arturo said he would be a good father to you…but he did not follow through on that promise.”

  “But, Mamá,” Rafael said slowly over the ragged, sharp pain in his throat, “why did you never tell me the truth? Why did you let me blame you for all these years? Why wouldn’t you tell me my father’s name?”

  “You’d already suffered enough from having one father who didn’t love you, and all those years you never knew why—until Arturo broke his word and told you the truth as he died.” Her eyes went dark, then with a sigh, she dropped her hands into her lap and became the gentle mother he’d always known. “You were so young and so hurt. When you found out you weren’t his true son, you imagined all these wonderful things about your real father. I couldn’t let another father disappoint you. I couldn’t let your heart be broken all over again.”

  Rafael sat back with shock in his chair.

  Everything he’d thought was true—was wrong.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered, turning to his mother. He put his hand over hers as he felt tears rise unbidden to his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

  His mother smiled through her own open tears. “I’m sorry I couldn’t give you the father you deserved,” she whispered. “But you can be that father for Noah. You can give him the family I tried and failed to give to you.”

  Family. Rafael sucked in his breath.

  Louisa.

  All he could suddenly think about was what he’d done to his wife. The woman who tried so hard to love him.

  “Does Louisa know?” he said faintly.

  His mother nodded. “But she wasn’t going to tell you. She didn’t want to hurt you.”

  Rafael stared at her.

  Louisa hadn’t wanted to hurt him? Even when he’d done the cruelest thing possible to her, taking their child away, she hadn’t wanted to hurt him. She’d been trying to protect him.

  In spite of everything, in spite of knowing his faults so well, Louisa truly loved him. The generosity and loyalty of her love took his breath away.
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  And this was how he’d treated her. She’d risked everything to tell him the part of the truth that would not hurt him, and he’d made her pay for it. She’d openly offered him her heart, not once but twice, and he’d wantonly ripped it apart, stomping on the pieces.

  He stared blindly across the dark shadows of the exclusive bar.

  “She’ll never forgive me,” he said.

  He felt his mother’s hand on his shoulder. “She will.”

  He looked up, no longer trying to hide the sheen of tears in his eyes. “How can I ever win her back? All this time I’ve thought I couldn’t trust her. The truth is, how can she ever trust me?” He thought of his son crying upstairs. He’d done everything wrong from the start!

  What could he do?

  How could he ever make it up to her?

  Louisa had tried to save his soul, and he’d repaid her by nearly destroying hers.

  He loved her, he realized.

  He loved her.

  He’d been trying to fight it for years. Even as he’d told himself he just wanted her in his bed, or needed her skills in his home, the truth was that he’d loved her for years. Not just what she did for him, but her. Her smile, her gentleness, her feistiness. The way she looked all mussed in the morning. The way her eyes glinted with tenderness when she saw him across the room.

  He loved her.

  Clenching his hands into fists, he slowly rose to his feet.

  He loved her. Even if it made him weak. Even if it made him vulnerable. He loved her, and he would make her love him.

  He’d win this fight, or he would die trying.

  Chapter Eleven

  COLLAPSED on the floor, Louisa lay curled up on the priceless Turkish carpet. She’d run out of tears hours ago. The bodyguard who’d restrained her, Evan Jones, had seemed disgusted with his job that day, but he’d done as his boss had ordered, keeping her a virtual prisoner in the luxury penthouse.

  After Rafael had left, Louisa had thought desperately of calling the police, then despaired. Rafael was, after all, Noah’s father! So instead, she’d called Agustina, who’d cried with her over the phone. The older woman had promised to try to help. But what could she do, really?