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.
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