Pregnant By The Ceo: Sensible Housekeeper, Scandalously Pregnant / She's Having the Boss's Baby / The Baby Who Saved Dr Cynical

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.

She’d been in love with him secretly, hopefully, desperately for years. The sixteen months they’d spent apart, where she’d tried to convince herself she didn’t love him anymore, had changed nothing.

She loved him.

And, from the way he’d touched her in the night, was it possible he could love her…?

No, she told herself fiercely. It’s just his nature. His body promises what his soul cannot deliver.

And yet…

They had a child together. Could somehow, by some miracle, Louisa be the one to reach Rafael’s heart, to make him whole, to heal his soul so they could be the real, loving family she longed for them to be?

She heard Noah cry. Quietly, so she wouldn’t wake her husband, she crept out of his arms and went down the hall. Pulling on her clothes, she padded softly across the apartment to feed the baby and rock him back to sleep.

She returned to the living room with her heart in her throat, full of dreams and plans and hopes to help Rafael be the man she needed. The man she loved. The man she was convinced he was born to be. She could hardly wait to sleep in his arms…

She stopped abruptly when she saw the sofa was empty.

He came up behind her. She whirled around to discover him wearing a white terry cloth robe, clearly just come from the shower.

“That was enjoyable,” he said coolly, drying his wet hair with a towel. “I think I may like having a wife.”

She tilted her head, her heart pounding with hope. “You think so?” she whispered.

His lips curved. “Of course. You’re in my bed. At my service. And apparently wishing to cook and clean for me whenever you’re not satisfying me in bed. I’m saving a great deal of money, since I don’t even have to pay you. You are—” he reached out to stroke her cheek “—every man’s dream wife.”

She swallowed, trembling as she looked up into his cold gray eyes. “You are trying to hurt me. Why?”

“I said I will enjoy our marriage. And you—will not.” Pulling his hand away, he leaned forward until his handsome face was inches from her own. “Nothing has changed,” he whispered. His eyes were a mesmerizing gray. “You will regret the day you stole my son away from me.”

Pain stabbed through her. Was that all their night together had been for him? She’d thought—dreamed—it could be some kind of new start for them, the sweet promise of forgiveness and a new life, raising their son together.

He’d fooled her yet again. His tenderness, his sensuality, had been the weapons he’d used to punish her!

She had the sudden image of the pain he could inflict on her, this man she loved, this man she’d once known so well.

I can’t offer you marriage. But for as long as we’re together, I promise I will be faithful to you.

She sucked in her breath. He’d cared for her. He still did. It was only his anger that was making him try to hurt her!

But she wouldn’t let him. She wouldn’t let him destroy their chance of being a family. Somehow, in spite of everything, she would break through his anger and make him forgive her!

It was their only hope…

She looked up at him. She could tell he was waiting for her to get upset, to yell, to cry.

Instead she took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” he ground out. “For stealing my son? You think an apology is enough?”

She nodded. “I thought I had no choice,” she said simply. “If I’d told you I was pregnant in Istanbul, you would have insisted I was a gold digger—and punished me. Instead I tried to raise our son on my own, without any help from you. So you accuse me of being vindictive—and you want to punish me.” She lifted her eyes to meet his. “Have you ever considered that you are an impossible man to please? Have you ever considered,” she said quietly, “that the problem might be you?”

He stared at her.

“Are you joking?” he growled.

She folded her arms over the paper-thin fabric of her tank top, wishing she had more clothes than her little shirt and shorts, more armor to protect her as she faced him. If only, she thought, she had one of her old gray woolen suits, her old thick black-framed glasses!

But all she had was herself. That would have to be enough.

She took a deep breath. “I still love you, Rafael,” she whispered, then gave him a tremulous smile. “There. I said it. In spite of your faults, in spite of your weakness, I love you.”

“My weakness?” he exploded.

She shivered at the danger in his dark eyes. But she still forced herself to be brave enough to speak the truth in her heart.

“A strong man,” she said, “allows himself to be vulnerable. He shows his love at any cost. A truly strong man gives everything he has—everything he is—to his family. He loves with all his heart and holds nothing back!”

“And where did you learn that? Housekeeping school?” he sneered.

“No,” she said simply, facing down his sarcasm. “I learned it from my father, who though he never made a fortune, he made us feel every day like we were valued and loved.”

Rafael sucked in his breath through his teeth.

“Forget it,” he barked. Pulling on some jeans and a black T-shirt, he stuffed his feet into black Italian-made shoes and headed for the door.

“Where are you going?”

He looked back at her just once. His face was dark in the shadows of the apartment.

“Out,” he said.

“Out? Out where? It’s midnight!”

He gave a hard laugh. “The night is young—for me. I guess I’m too weak to stay.” His eyebrows lowered as he ordered her, “Be ready for me upon my return. Perhaps I will want you again.” A cold smile curved his mouth. “Perhaps not.”

She stared at him, her heart throbbing painfully in her throat.

“Don’t do this, Rafael,” she choked out, blinking back tears. “Stay and talk to me. Please. I want so much for us to—”

“I’ve had enough talk for one night,” he said coldly. Opening the door, he walked out. She saw him have a quiet word with the huge bodyguard outside as the door closed behind him.

Louisa shook with humiliation and despair. She went to the window and stepped out onto the wrought-iron balcony, staring out into the twinkling lights of Recoleta and all Buenos Aires beyond it in the warm, humid night.

Looking down, she watched Rafael leave the building, watched him with her heart in her throat and tears streaking her face.

He glanced up. Their eyes met.

Then he coldly turned away. He climbed into the yellow sports car his bodyguard had brought to the curb. Stepping on the gas, he drove off into the night.

Where was he going? Louisa wondered with anguish. To meet another woman?

She stayed on the balcony for a long time after he left, feeling trapped, feeling helpless. The city at her feet still seemed to be busy and alive, noisy and young. All of the things she no longer felt.

Louisa was so tired, but she knew she would not be able to sleep. Not when her emotions were so wound up. Not when pain and love and helplessness made her shake.

Then she had an idea.

If Rafael couldn’t stand a direct discussion, she would come at him sideways.

She would lure him into their marriage through the weak point he would never think to guard. She would seduce him with her skills. She would give him a home.

A small smile traced her lips as she left the balcony. Crossing the apartment, she flung open the front door. She spoke directly to his head bodyguard outside, an American named Evan Jones who rose respectfully to his feet.

“I need your help,” she told him coolly, in her housekeeper voice that no staff member could ever resist. And neither did he.

As she gave him her instructions, Louisa suddenly felt a surge of optimism. She might no longer be Rafael’s housekeeper, but she still had power in his life. More than she’d ever had before. And though he did not know it, Rafael himself had given it to her. He’d done it when he’d made her his wife.

Chapter Nine

RAFAEL didn’t return to the apartment until noon the next day.

He’d met some old school friends for a drink, but when women had come up to them at the bar, he’d found himself bored. Not just bored—uncomfortable. And so he’d left.

But he couldn’t go home. Not after what Louisa had said.

In spite of your faults, in spite of your weakness, I love you.

His hands clenched to remember it. How did she dare? His weakness? No woman had ever said such a thing to him before! He’d intended to punish her, and yet somehow she’d gotten one step ahead of him!

His weakness.

Louisa knew him too well. She’d lived with him, day in and day out, for five years. No other woman had had such an opportunity to see beneath the facade. Or so thoroughly get under his skin. She knew him.

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