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.
Most of all, by Louisa.
He was trying his damnedest to push her away. To keep her at a distance. He was desperate to return to simply being boss and employee. He’d promised her it would be easy, hadn’t he? He’d promised her when they returned to Istanbul, everything would fall back into place. But his plan that never before failed—had failed.
Somehow, after two days of making love to her, he still wanted her more than ever.
And if that weren’t bad enough, Louisa had come down the stairs looking like some kind of damned sex symbol in a tight black dress. Was she trying to torture him? Or was it possible…she already knew his plan had failed, and so she was looking for a new employer?
His hands tightened. From the moment he’d seen her in that dress, he’d hated the thought of any other man looking at her. One man above all—his business rival, Xerxes Novros. He’d invited his Greek rival to the party in his determination to finally close the real estate deal in Paris; but the two men were far from friends. Novros was such a callous womanizer, he made Rafael look like a damned saint. That was why Rafael had ordered Louisa to change clothes before the party. When she’d come down the stairs, looking so shockingly, glamorously beautiful in a way he’d never seen her before, he knew at once that she would attract the wrong attention.
“By the way,” the Greek said coolly as they walked down the hall, “I never wished you a happy birthday.”
“Thanks.” At thirty-seven, Rafael no longer felt young and invincible. His soul was starting to feel brittle around the edges. He was ready to leave this city, with his failure and the memory of his father’s funeral, far behind him.
Rafael had hundreds, perhaps thousands, of friends around the world. They were amusing. They were witty. The women were beautiful and eagerly gave themselves to his bed. The men were all business rivals who placed bets and smiled through their teeth like wolves. He didn’t really give a damn about any of them, including the guests who were here tonight. He craved distraction.
He craved…her.
“You have a beautiful house,” Xerxes Novros said as he followed Rafael down the hall to his private study. “You said your housekeeper supervised the refurbishment? That lovely creature in the sexy black dress?”
“Yes,” Rafael growled as he snapped on the light. He closed the door behind them then picked up papers from his desk. “Your lawyers sent their corrections this morning. Sign these and we’ll be done.”
“Does she have a lover?”
“Who?”
“Your housekeeper.”
“None of your damned business.”
Flashing him a smile, Novros flung himself down in a high-backed chair and looked idly through the contract.
Rafael sat down at his desk, watching him. He never should have borrowed the man’s private Greek island the last two days, he thought grimly. It gave him the vague sense of being in the man’s debt. A dangerous feeling as he finished the negotiations of purchasing the real estate in Paris, a prestige property in the business district of La Défense. A dangerous feeling, as it brought Louisa to the other man’s notice.
“It all appears to be in order.” Novros looked up with a lazy smile. “Throw in your housekeeper to seal the bargain, and we have a deal.”
Rafael’s hand tightened on his pen.
“Careful,” he growled through his teeth. He lifted his head, and his eyes glittered dangerously at his rival. “Don’t talk about her. Don’t even look at her.”
Novros lifted a dark eyebrow. “I see,” he said mildly, and looked back at the papers. He shook his head and threw them back on his desk. “Sorry. I’m going to need more time to think about it.”
Rafael clenched his jaw. He needed to break ground on the hugely expensive property at once in order to meet his schedule, and they both knew it. He wished to build a new headquarters for his international conglomerate in Paris. They’d already agreed on a price. He was tempted to smash the man’s face in.
Instead he smiled.
“Shall we throw in a sweetener?” Rafael suggested. “Sign it. Finish the deal. And this house—” he indicated the study with a generous sweep of his hand “—will be thrown into the bargain.”
Xerxes Novros stared at him for a moment.
Then with a nod, he signed the papers with a flourish.
“You gave in too easily,” the man said, handing the contract back to Rafael with an insolent
