by Jennie Lucas
Louisa was deliberately choosing to deprive her baby of his father, and though she tried to remind herself why she’d had no choice, suddenly pain ripped through her. She looked down at her baby. What if she’d made the wrong choice?
“Can you ever forgive me?” her sister whispered.
Reaching over, Louisa hugged Katie fiercely with one arm. She realized she was crying, too. “There is nothing to forgive.”
“I love you,” Katie whispered. “And I want you to be happy. Do the right thing while you have the chance. Give your child a father.”
“I can’t tell him,” Louisa said over the lump in her throat as she pulled away. “Rafael would be furious. He might try to take Noah away from me…”
“He wouldn’t!”
“You didn’t hear him last year when he said he would force me into marriage and make my life hell as his wife. If he ever knew I’d had his baby…”
She looked down at Noah. At almost eight months, he was a happy, chubby baby with fat legs and a smiley disposition. Other than his dark hair and the slate-gray color of his eyes, he was nothing like the man who’d fathered him.
“Whatever he said to you, he said in anger,” Katie argued. “He wouldn’t take Noah away from you. You’re a good mother!”
“You don’t understand,” Louisa cried, wiping her tears away fiercely. “If Rafael knew I’d had his baby…he would destroy me.”
The words were still coming out of her mouth when Louisa heard the chiming bell of the door. She froze. Then, with her baby still against her hip, she turned.
Rafael stood in the doorway. He’d been reaching for the bag of caramel brownies that he’d left on the counter. But by the wide look in his eyes as he saw Louisa with the baby in her arms, she knew her worst fears had been realized. He knew everything.
“Rafael,” she breathed. “I can explain.”
He looked at the baby.
“Who is that?” he asked in a low voice.
“Rafael…he is…I wanted to…”
His eyes narrowed. His shoulders straightened, and his body seemed so tall and strong and powerful. His face was dark as he took a step toward her, and it took all of her courage to remain rooted in one spot.
“Is that baby mine?” His voice was cold. Dangerous.
The panicked thought raced through her brain that she should lie, say the baby was her sister’s, or that she was babysitting for a neighbor—but as she looked up into his hard, gray eyes, her heart pounded in her throat. And she found she could not lie.
“Tell me.” His voice was deceptively soft as he took another step toward her. “Who. Is. That. Baby.”
Her teeth chattered. “He is…my son.”
Coming very close to her, looking down at her without touching either her or Noah, he said in a voice low as a whisper and dark as night, “And who is the father?”
Lie! A voice inside her screamed. Lie!
But she could not. Even after everything she’d done, she could not look into his face and deny him the truth that was obvious. Everything about their son looked exactly like Rafael, from his black hair to his beautiful gray eyes.
“Is he my son?” Rafael said in a low voice.
Closing her eyes as if bracing for a blow, she took a deep breath.
“Yes,” she whispered.
The simple, clipped word from her lips—Yes—nearly caused Rafael to stagger back, as if struck by a mortal blow. Even though he’d known the truth from the instant he saw the baby on Louisa’s hip.
But hearing the word, beads of sweat broke out over his forehead. His entire body felt like ice.
She’d had his baby. And she hadn’t told him.
Louisa had caused him to unknowingly abandon his son.
His hands tightened as he stared at her across the warmth of the bakery. A large group of tourists entered the shop behind him with a happy chime of the bell.
With a snarl, Rafael opened his mouth to speak, to accuse. Grabbing his arm, still holding her baby against her hip, Louisa pulled Rafael up the flight of stairs behind the counter.
At the top of the stairs, he looked grimly at the second-floor apartment around him. It was a small, pretty, feminine home. Anxiously tugging on his arm, Louisa pulled him into a bedroom and closed the door behind him.
“Please understand,” she said desperately, turning to face him. “You left me no choice!”
He stared around the small room. It contained a single bed, a crib and a changing table. The bed was covered by a handmade quilt. On the wall over the crib, soft fabric letters spelled out N-O-A-H beside a framed picture of a giraffe that looked like it was from an old children’s book.
There was no lavish luxury here. This apartment wasn’t a palace, but it was homey and cozy. It was bright and warm. The bedroom was decorated with warmth and simplicity—and kept absolutely clean.
Warmth. Love. Care. Everything Louisa had denied Rafael for the last year and a half. Along with the truth. Along with his child.
The rage of betrayal ripped through him.
“Rafael, please. Won’t you talk to me?”
Slowly he turned back to stare at her. He’d thought Louisa Grey was different from any woman he’d known. He’d thought her an intelligent woman with a bright mind and a rare sense of dignity—of loyalty. In the years she’d worked for him, he’d looked forward to seeing her every night after he returned from a date. He’d become accustomed to seeing dark eyes gleam through her glasses as she made him a late-night turkey-and-baguette and listened with some amusement to his latest dating woes, which always involved some woman going to pieces after he dumped her.
“It’s your own fault, you know,” she’d chided him gently. “You treat them badly.”
“I make them no promises,” he’d protested. “I tell them our affair cannot last. I am not a man made for marriage.”
“You might tell them that, but your eyes say something else,” she’d said quietly. “I’ve seen you. You look at every woman as if she, and only she, might be the one to make you faithful.”
Rafael exhaled. She’d been right, of course. Louisa saw through all of his lies—even the ones he hadn’t realized he was telling. She’d made herself indispensable in his life. Unique.
And now this. Her vengeful cruelty took his breath away.
Had Louisa Grey always been a liar? Or had Rafael turned her into a liar—when he’d slept with her?
No! He wasn’t going to think that way—wasn’t going to give her any excuse to say he was the one at fault for her crime. He wasn’t the one who’d done this! All these months, he’d felt so guilty, thinking he’d treated her badly. And all along, she was the one who’d lied to him. She’d stolen his child.
If not for the anonymous letter, he might never have come here. His baby might always have grown up believing Rafael had abandoned him.
His hands clenched into fists. He’d once thought Louisa a gold digger. Now he wished she were. A gold digger would have at least contacted him for a payout. This was far worse. Louisa Grey was a vindictive, cold, ruthless woman.
Rafael looked at the child in her arms. What kind of woman could keep a baby a secret from his own father?
“What is his name?” he said harshly.
She looked at him with pleading eyes. “You told me you never wanted a child, Rafael. You said—”
“That’s your excuse?” he bit out furiously. “You use my own words against me? I also told you that if you were pregnant, I would marry you.”
“But I didn’t want to marry you!”
He stared at her, then shook his head in fury. “No, you didn’t, did you?” he said. “You wanted revenge for the way I treated you. And you knew this would hurt me as nothing else ever could.”
“That’s not true!” she gasped. “You made it clear you never wanted a wife or child! Do you think I would share my precious baby with a man who didn’t even want him?”
He narrowed his eyes. “It wasn’t your decision to make.”
She took a deep breath, shifting position from her left leg to the right as the baby squirmed in her arms.
Without warning, Rafael took the baby away from her. He saw Louisa choke back a protest, saw her clench her hands at her sides, as if fighting her initial instinctive reaction to snatch the baby back into her own arms.
He looked down at the baby. “My son,” he whispered. “You are my son.”
“His name is Noah, after my father,” she said unwillingly behind him. “Noah Grey.”
Holding the baby tenderly, he whirled to face her in a swift and decisive motion. “Noah Grey? You did not even give him my name?”
She shook her head stubbornly.
“You lied to me, Louisa,” he said softly. He looked from his precious young son to the lying woman who had given birth to him. He saw her tremble, but kept himself from touching her—from raging at her, from shaking her—by an act of fierce will. “You are a far greater liar than I ever imagined.” He gave a low, harsh laugh. “And to think you said you loved me,” he sneered. “That’s what your love was worth!”
Her cheeks went hot. “I did love you,” she said quietly. “It nearly killed me.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “So that is why you lied to me about being on birth control? Because you thought you were in love with me?”
“I didn’t lie!”
“Then how did you get pregnant?”
“I was on the Pill in Paris, like I told you,” she whispered, then shook her head. “The whole staff ate some bad fish from the market. I threw up for days. I never thought that it might make the Pill useless, but then,” her cheeks colored, “I never paid much attention to the birth control aspects of the medication. I never expected you to seduce me!”
Silence fell. Through the sheer curtains at the large sash window, with its brightly painted open shutters, he could see clouds trailing across the blue sky, above the distant turquoise sea. He took a deep breath.
“Perhaps you’re not lying,” he said quietly. “For if you were truly a gold digger, you would have jumped at the chance to marry me. The pregnancy must have been an accident.” He set his jaw as he looked down at his son. “But your lie to me for the last year and a half was not.”
“You’re not being fair!” she cried. “You told me you never wanted a child. If I’d told you I was pregnant, you’d have insisted I was a gold digger who’d purposefully set out to ‘trap’ you!”
“Like the devil, you twist my own words against me,” he said, then gave a low laugh. “You are the most cold, heartless woman I have ever known. Which is a high mark indeed.”
“I’m not,” she whispered.
“You looked into my face and lied to me. I’m not pregnant, you said.” He nearly choked on the words. “When were you planning to tell me the truth, Louisa? After he was a grown man? Or did you mean to punish our son as well as me,” he said harshly, “by only telling him the truth after I was dead?”
She went pale. “I would never do that to you.”
“You already have.”
Pain racked his body. Louisa had hurt him in the most devastating way possible.
And when he thought of how, just a half hour ago, they’d walked along the beach, he’d humbly held his heart in his hands and asked her to be his lover…
He shuddered with humiliation and fury. Then, still holding the baby, he turned without a word.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m taking my son home.”
“No!” she shrieked. Racing ahead of them, she blocked the door. “You can’t take my baby away from me—you can’t!”
“We’ll come to a custody arrangement.” He had the satisfaction of seeing her shoulders sag with relief before he mercilessly continued, “You’ve had Noah for the last eight months. I will take him for the next eight months.” Cradling his baby son against his shirt, he turned to go. “You will hear from my lawyers sometime before next Christmas.”
“No!” she screamed, pulling on his arm. “You can’t take him from me—his mother! Not for eight months!”
He glanced back at her coldly. “Can I not? But that is what you have done to me. You’ve had your time. I will have mine. Is that not ‘fair’ enough for you?” he said mockingly.
“No,” she wept freely. “Please. It would kill me.”
Rafael looked down at her. Somehow, in her abject grief and surrender, even with her nose red and tears streaking down her cheeks, she was still beautiful. He still wanted her. It infuriated him.
He heard the baby start to cry, his loud wailing mingling with Louisa’s. Rafael awkwardly tried to comfort the baby, but could not. He had no experience with babies and no idea how to comfort Noah. He did not know his own son. The injustice of it raged in his heart as, setting his jaw, he gently handed the baby to Louisa.
“Noah. Oh, Noah.” Louisa’s weeping only intensified as she cradled her baby against her, whispering words of love, kissing his chubby cheeks again and again. “Oh, my sweet baby.”
Rafael stared down at them. He took a deep breath. And came to a sudden decision.
“Vale,” he said through clenched teeth. “I will not separate you.”
“Thank you,” Louisa whispered.
He stared at her coldly. “It’s for my son’s sake. Not yours.”
She rocked the baby in her arms, her breath still uneven between sobs and hiccups. Rafael looked at her, then looked slowly around the room, from the sheer curtains over the window to the giraffe on the wall above the crib.
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
“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 coul
d 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.
