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Where would she go, without him to be both her albatross and her star? What would she do without him, all alone?
Slowly, heavily, she started to go up the stairs to her room. As she passed the study, she heard one of his assistants say, “Mademoiselle Lepetit is on the phone for you, sir.”
Louisa froze on the stair.
Dominique Lepetit was a beautiful French starlet famous mostly for her time spent pouting while topless, posing for the paparazzi during the Cannes Film Festival. Blond, curvaceous and cruel—she was everything that most men seemed to want in a woman.
“Tell her I’m busy,” came Rafael’s curt reply, and Louisa exhaled. She hadn’t realized until then how very much, in spite of everything, she wanted him to be faithful to her.
Rafael Cruz, faithful to any woman? She mocked herself as she climbed slowly up the stairs to her room. Had the pregnancy hormones kicked in already? She must really be out of her mind!
But he’d refused Dominique Lepetit’s phone call. Could a man change?
Could he understand that sometimes fate changed people’s lives in unexpected ways—for the better?
When she reached her room, she closed the door behind her, leaning against it for strength. She looked down in wonder, putting her hands on her belly as a new realization occurred to her.
Pregnant. A new life was growing inside her—Rafael’s child. A smile lifted her lips. A baby. A sweet-smelling baby to cuddle in her arms, to love forever. Her parents had died long ago, and she’d been estranged from her younger sister for five years. But with this baby, she would finally have a family of her own. A reason to create a real home, after so many years alone.
Had Katie felt like this when she’d first found out she was pregnant?
Louisa pushed away the unbidden thought. She didn’t want to think about Katie. Didn’t want to think about the niece or nephew she’d never met. The child must be almost five now, probably with brothers and sisters. And Matthias Spence as their father…
She’d tried not to think about Matthias for years. But to her surprise, the thought of him no longer hurt her the same way. Because she’d never really cared about him? She’d worked for him for only a few months before he’d proposed to her. She hadn’t known him half so well as she knew Rafael.
Or perhaps it was because her relationship with Matthias seemed so laughably in the past, the crush of a schoolgirl long ago, compared to the enormity of being pregnant with Rafael’s baby.
How could she tell Rafael the news?
Straightening her shoulders, Louisa went to her closet. She pushed through all the plain, serviceable clothes and pulled something out of the back, covered by plastic. Taking it out, she stared down at a sexy black bustier dress.
The last time she’d worn this, she’d been an engaged woman. Her sister had been visiting for a month from college, and had insisted they go shopping. “You’re so lucky,” Katie had said wistfully. “Going from a live-in housekeeper to a rich man’s wife.” “I love him,” Louisa had replied, smiling. But she’d allowed Katie to talk her into spending an entire paycheck in one splurge on the dress for their engagement party. Louisa had hoped to look pretty for Matthias, and try her best to impress his friends. Then a few weeks later, an hour before their engagement party began, her nineteen-year-old sister had asked to speak to her privately.
“How could you?” Louisa had gasped a few moments later. “You’re my sister. How could you do this to me?”
“I’m sorry!” Katie had cried. “I never meant to get pregnant. But I can’t believe you even love him. If you did, you wouldn’t have kept him at arm’s length, refusing to sleep with him until you were married! Who does that anymore?”
“I do,” Louisa had choked out, and grabbing her purse, she’d run from the house. She’d run as far away from Miami as she could, all the way to Paris.
She’d nearly thrown the dress in the trash five years ago. But instead, for some reason, she’d kept it. Now, the sexy black dress was the one item of clothing from her old life, before she’d been afraid of love, before she’d disappeared from the world to walk the earth like a ghost.
As she put on the dress, Louisa told herself she had no illusions that Rafael would love her; he would certainly never marry her. She only prayed he might love and accept their coming child. And that was the reason—the only reason!—that she put it on.
It was a little loose from her weight loss over the last few years, all the time she’d spent without time to exercise or sit down and eat meals or take care of herself properly. But when she added a belt, the dress still looked nice. She brushed her dark hair, leaving it tumbling and lustrous down her shoulders. She took off her black-rimmed plastic glasses and put in contact lenses. She was out of practice after wearing glasses for so long. She added some mascara to her lashes and some deep red lipstick on her mouth, then surveyed herself in the mirror for the effect.
After so many years, she almost didn’t recognize herself.
She looked pretty.
Louisa prayed it would help. Because she was terrified.
As she went downstairs, she could hear the first guests starting to arrive outside. She saw Rafael at the base of the stairs and stopped, gripping the polished wood of the railing. She closed her eyes as she took a single calming breath, her hand on her belly. Could this night be anything like her deepest dreams?
“I’m pregnant, Rafael,” she would say.
His gray eyes would widen. He’d gasp. Then he’d take her into his arms. “I am glad,” he’d say fiercely. “Of course I want this baby. And I want you. You are the only woman for me, querida.” Looking down at her, he would lift her chin and whisper tenderly, “I love you, Louisa.”
“Louisa.”
She opened her eyes to see Rafael looking up at her from the bottom of the stairs. He was frowning at her as if she’d dyed her hair purple and dressed like the Easter bunny.
“Why are you dressed like that?” he demanded, coldly surveying her from head to toe.
It wasn’t quite the reaction she’d been hoping for, but she tried to smile as she walked down the stairs—carefully, on her four-inch black patent high heels.
“For the party,” she said. She stopped one step above him. He still wouldn’t smile back at her. “For your birthday,” she tried again.
Instead of looking pleased, Rafael scowled. “You are going to attract attention like that.”
A servant should always be invisible. The rule had been drummed into her for ten months. After her parents had died, Louisa had given up her chance at a college scholarship to stay home and take care of her little sister and ailing great-aunt. But her aunt had left Louisa a small inheritance, which she’d used to attend butler school to become a certified household manager. You are not a person to your employer. You are a tool in his service. Serve invisibly. Never invade your employer’s privacy or force yourself upon his notice. To do so will cause embarrassment to you both.
Now, Louisa stiffened. “You don’t like my dress?”
He glared at her. “No.”
It seemed almost impossible to believe just that morning, she’d been in his arms. They’d been naked together in the amazing Greek mansion overlooking the Aegean. Now, when she needed his attention the most, he’d suddenly become distracted. Distant.
Was he already thinking about Dominique Lepetit, who was already on her way? Had he already forgotten Louisa completely?
“Go change,” he said coldly. “The guests will arrive any moment.”
He seemed completely disinterested in her. Just as he’d promised two days ago, their little affair had apparently cured his desire for her. He’d had his fill of her. He was done. He was ready to move on.
With a deep breath, she told herself it was irrelevant if he cared for her. She had to think about their unborn child. Rafael had to know she was pregnant. For their baby’s sake.
As he turned to leave, she grabbed his wrist. It took every ounce of her courage. “I need to talk to you.”
He stared at her hand on his wrist. She released him as if he’d burned her.
“I want you on the plane to Buenos Aires tomorrow,” he replied icily.
“Buenos Aires?” she whispered, staggered. He no longer wanted her in Paris? “Why Buenos Aires?”
“You’ll take over my house there.” He gave a single dismissive nod, already turning away. “Now go change your dress.”
Louisa felt a stab of pain.
He could not have said it more plainly. He no longer saw her as anything but a servant.
And the truth was that even in Greece, when she’d imagined herself his cosseted mistress, she’d still been his servant. Serving his needs in bed, rather than in the household. And now that he was done with her, he expected her to simply return to being invisible, to being the plain gray ghost that vanished into the hundred-year-old woodwork of the mansion.
So he cared nothing for her but as his invisible servant? She gritted her teeth.
So be it.
She had no intention of going to Buenos Aires. She wouldn’t go meekly off to serve him forever in exile, while he enjoyed a succession of other women!
Having him love her—what a ridiculous fantasy that had been!
Her head pounded. She felt almost physically sick. But she pushed the pain aside. She would deal with that later. Tonight, she had a job to do.
She’d make his dinner party perfect. He would never have reason to complain she’d been anything less than an exemplary housekeeper.
Then, afterward, she would tell him she was accidentally pregnant. Not because she still hoped he might care. But because her baby deserved a father, and Rafael deserved the truth. He deserved that much, and no more.
The doorbell rang, and she lifted her chin.
“I’m sorry, your guests are already arriving,” she said sweetly. “I have no time to change my clothes. Excuse me.”
Pushing past him, she opened the door.
That night, as the guests arrived, Louisa personally stood near the door to take their coats. The house was all in readiness; she’d supervised everything. As she took each coat, she saw that each guest was more powerful, wealthy and beautiful than the last. She watched Rafael greet each of them, some with handshakes, some with slaps on the back.
But not the women—no. He greeted each of them with a kiss on both cheeks. The five women were all so beautiful, and every single one of them looked up at Rafael with longing. No wonder. Impeccably dressed in a tuxedo with a black tie, he was beyond handsome. He was the spectacular angel of his namesake.
He didn’t look at Louisa. He seemed not to notice she was there, any more than he noticed the grandfather clock or the antique hat rack that she’d lovingly chosen for this mansion. All his possessions, including her, were to be used and then discarded at will when he no longer found them useful.
She clenched her hands, trying to ignore the pain.
“Dominique,” he purred, pushing past Louisa to help the beautiful blond starlet remove her white fur coat. He pulled it off her shoulders himself, smiling down at her seductively. “I am glad to see you.”
“Rafael.” The infamous French beauty reminded Louisa of a pampered white Persian cat, with her tiny button nose, big blue eyes and fluffy bleached-blond hair. Her sparkly gold minidress barely covered her nipples on the top and upper thighs on the hemline. She smiled up at him with her curved red lips. “I wouldn’t miss your birthday, chéri.”
Looking at them together, Louisa suddenly felt how plain she was, how tall and ungainly and skinny in her five-year-old black dress. A sharp pain rose in her throat. Twenty minutes earlier, she’d thought she looked rather pretty in the mirror but now she felt as drab as a sparrow. Why hadn’t she just stayed in her gray smock and glasses? At least then no one would have snickered at the plain girl who was actually trying to look pretty, who was apparently under the delusion she could compete with someone like Dominique Lepetit!
Rafael and Dominique were suited for each other in every way, both physically and by reputation. The French starlet was as well-known for discarding love-tortured suitors as Rafael was known for crushing women’s hearts. Louisa swallowed, looking down at the floor.
Suddenly a fur coat was thrust into her arms. She nearly coughed at the weight and sensation of something so huge and fluffy—like a dead animal beneath her nose.
“Take care of that, won’t you?” Rafael murmured to Louisa, not looking away from Dominique.
“Of course, Mr. Cruz,” she replied miserably.
The dinner party was sparkling. The company was served mezes, starters like stuffed vine leaves and dip, cooked artichokes and hummus with pide bread, along with cocktails and Argentinian wine. Louisa supervised the entire night, calming down the chef who though recovered from his earlier illness, seemed dangerously unhinged emotionally as he rushed around the kitchen. Realizing how many famous people were sitting in the dining room for Rafael’s birthday, the man seemed to abruptly disintegrate under pressure and, while shouting at one of his poor assistants, he nearly cut the end of his thumb off with a sharp knife.
She’d prepared for this. She’d gone to the famous butler school in Miami when she’d realized she had no skills except taking care of people. And organizing homes. And, she thought dully, falling in love with her boss.
Louisa managed the cook, calmed down the kitchen and then organized the waiters who brought out each course of the meal. Each time she went into the dining room she was involuntarily dazzled by the beautiful guests, by their sparkling conversations and witty repartee. She tried not to listen, but she could not help it. Just as she could not help noticing how Rafael looked into Dominique Lepetit’s lovely, wicked eyes with such apparent fascination as they leaned their heads together and she whispered something in his ear.
She’d known Rafael would move on—but she’d never thought it would be at such lightning speed!
She swallowed, feeling increasingly hot as she returned to the kitchen. How could she tell him she was pregnant?
Should she even tell him?
What if he rejected their baby? What if he not only blamed Louisa for the pregnancy, but he was never able to love the child they’d created, the child he’d never wanted?
As the interminable dinner was finally drawing to an end, she went into the dining room and announced heavily that dessert and coffee would be awaiting them on the terrace. When one of the toothpick-skinny actresses asked her to list the desserts Louisa couldn’t stop herself from looking at Rafael when she mentioned the caramel macadamia brownies. Across the room, from where he sat beside Dominique Lepetit, Rafael’s slate-gray eyes suddenly locked with hers.
The pouting French beauty abruptly knocked over her wineglass. “Oh! Mon dieu, but how clumsy of me!”
With an intake of breath, Louisa hurried forward with a hand towel to clean up the mess. She saw Dominique’s feline smile as the beautiful girl leaned forward on the table, blocking Rafael’s gaze from her.
One of the other guests, a very handsome dark-eyed man sitting across the table, watched the scene with interest. As Louisa straightened from the table with hot, flushed cheeks and the wine-soaked towel, her eyes met the stranger’s. His lips curved, as if he knew everything. Her cheeks, already red with humiliation, became hotter still.
“Novros,” Rafael said, rising from the table with sudden sharpness. “We have business to discuss. It is time.”
“Yes,” the other man said to him, his black eyes gleaming.
“Excuse us,” Rafael said more smoothly to the other guests at the table, pausing for a particular smile at Dominique. “We will join you on the terrace in a moment. Miss Grey, will you show them the way, if you please?”
“Of course, sir,” Louisa said over the lump in her throat.
Once outside in the moonlit night, upon the high stone terrace overlooking the garden and the sparkling Bosphorus below, the guests scattered in pairs into the shadows. Louisa directed several maids in setting up the pastries, including the kadayif, the shredded puff pastry filled with nuts and honey, along with strong Turkish coffee, brandy and other liqueurs, serving them on sterling silver trays filled with antique copper goblets.
As the maids bustled around her, Louisa paused in the moonlight. Blinking fast, she stared up into the inky-blackness of the sky twinkling with distant frozen stars.
Just yesterday, she’d been his mistress. Just yesterday, she’d been free. Just yesterday, she’d had everything she’d ever wanted.
A lot could change in just one day.
By early autumn next year, she would be a mother. She would have a baby to love and care for.
But would her child have a father? Would Rafael have any love for their baby—or would he just resent and despise the innocent child for being forced upon him?
A shudder went through her body. She was afraid she already knew. He did not want a wife. Did not want a child. She had been a fool to ever dream otherwise. Louisa stared across the garden, yearning to run away and not even give Rafael the chance to despise and abandon them.
Why had she not kept to her original plan and waited to become a wife, before she’d ever risked becoming a mother?
Because she’d been in love with Rafael for years. And at twenty-eight years old, she hadn’t felt principled and idealistic. Her virginity had started to feel like a burden. She’d started to feel like she would never be wanted—never be loved.
She took a deep breath when she heard the guests flirting and laughing among each other out in the shadows of the garden. As soon as she could get Rafael alone, she would be the idealistic, principled girl that she’d been raised to be. She would be strong. She would force herself to tell him the truth, even if it did nothing but hurt her.
Wouldn’t she?
Rafael was in hell.
He’d been distracted all night. By returning to Istanbul. By his guests. By his birthday. By the business deal he was about to make.
