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She was, he thought grudgingly, a decent mother. What she would not be—what she could never be again—was a woman he could trust.
But that didn’t stop Rafael from wanting her.
There is someone else, she’d said.
Who was the man? Rafael’s hands clenched. How many lovers had been in Louisa’s bed over the last year, while he’d tossed and turned, tormented by longing for his fantasy of her as he’d believed her to be—honest, loving, chaste?
For all these years, Louisa Grey was the one woman he’d never been able to completely possess.
Now, he wanted to punish her. To break down her elusiveness. To own her.
Then discard her like the rest.
An idea occurred to him. A cruel, perfect idea.
It would be a neat, tidy, perfect revenge.
He smiled grimly. Walking across the nursery, he placed his hand on her shoulder.
“There is just one condition,” he said brutally.
“Anything,” she whispered. “Just don’t separate me from my son.”
Lowering his head, Rafael gave her a seductive kiss. He possessed her mouth with his, luring her with his tongue. He felt her shiver in his arms. He felt her sigh, then surrender.
When he pulled away, he saw the haze of longing in her eyes, and hid a smile.
She thought she’d beaten him, but he would make her pay. He was the master of the coldhearted seduction. Soon, his possession of her would be complete.
“You will be completely mine,” he whispered. He stroked her cheek as he looked down at her, his eyes glittering in the shadowy room. “You will marry me, Louisa.”
Chapter Eight (#ulink_4d8a5f93-1f15-5fa9-80c4-9038867ed626)
“WELCOME to Buenos Aires, Señora Cruz.”
As the doorman greeted her, Louisa barely had time to wonder how he already knew about the marriage before bodyguards hustled her inside the Belle Époque high-rise in the exclusive Recoleta district. In two seconds, they’d crossed the lavish marble floor and were in the elevator.
Tall, hulking men clustered all around her, making Louisa feel small as she cradled her baby nervously in her arms. Worst of all: the tallest and most powerful of the men around her was Rafael. Her new husband.
When she’d woken up in Key West that morning, Louisa had never imagined she could find herself taken to Buenos Aires as the wife of a man who hated her. He kissed her so well that she almost imagined, in his arms, that he could forgive her. But when he pulled away from her, he could not hide the coldness in his slate eyes.
Within minutes after he’d demanded marriage, he’d dragged her to the courthouse. He’d somehow managed to convince the clerk Louisa was not a Florida resident and to skip the three-day waiting period. Before they’d even left Key West, Louisa had been his lawfully married wife. He’d spent the long flight on his private jet working. Ignoring her.
Now, in the elevator, Rafael’s dark eyes gleamed at her malevolently. What did he intend to do to her?
I would make you pay for trapping me into marriage. I would make you pay…and pay…and pay.
At least she still had her baby in her arms, she comforted herself. That was what mattered. When she’d thought Rafael meant to take their son away, she’d been so frightened, she’d known she would do anything—anything—to stay with Noah. And so she’d said farewell to her sister and niece, telling her she was eloping with Rafael.
Katie had been ecstatic for her. “We’ll be fine with the bakery until you get back,” she’d said joyfully. “Have a wonderful time!”
If only her sister knew the truth. Louisa feared she was never going back to that warm, loving home in Key West. Rafael would never let her go.
When the elevator reached the top floor, Rafael pushed open the double doors.
“Welcome home,” he said sardonically.
“Home?” Louisa looked around her in dismay. The old luxury apartment was old, musty and desperately in need of cleaning and refurbishment. All the furniture was covered with white sheets, which gave it a ghostly appearance. But in spite of her anger and fear, she could not help but observe the space with a professional eye and see the loveliness beneath the neglect. It had high Edwardian plaster ceilings and a view of the city through wide windows. Against her will, she could almost see how to make this apartment beautiful again. How to make it a home.
“I had no idea it was in such disarray,” she whispered.
He shrugged. “I’m not here often.”
She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “I could make it nice,” she offered.
“Don’t bother,” he said shortly. “We won’t be here for long.”
Louisa shivered. Now that she was his bride, now that they shared a child, he had more power over her than ever before. After five years of obeying his orders as his housekeeper, it would have been easy to return to the habit of trying to please him. But her time living in Key West had changed her. She had finally found her voice.
“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.
