Rafael’s hand stroked her cheek. “You won’t answer. You never answer,” he said softly. “Someday you will.” He looked down at her. “Someday, you will tell me everything.”
But as he pulled her once more into his arms beneath the bright Greek sun, Louisa knew she would never tell him about the last man she’d fallen in love with. Her last boss. At least, she’d thought it was love at the time. She’d been so young then, so young and naive…
Thinking of the pain in her past, she looked at her future and was very, very afraid.
“Do you like this place?” he said softly, twisting a tendril of her hair around his finger.
She looked at him.
“So much that maybe I should get a job here,” she said, only half-joking. “Does your friend who owns this island need a housekeeper? What is his name?”
Rafael glowered at her. Irritation emanated off him in waves.
“He is not a kind man. Especially where women are concerned.”
She’d been trying to lighten the mood, but it seemed to have failed miserably. Why was he taking her comment so seriously? Lifting herself on one elbow, Louisa reached up to rub his shoulder. “The same could be said about you,” she teased.
His jaw clenched. “Yes,” he said shortly. “It could.”
Was it possible he was jealous? No, surely not! “You know I’m not serious, Rafael!”
“I do not care for such jokes of you mentioning other men,” he said stiffly. “You belong to me.”
She stopped rubbing his shoulder. She looked at him. “I belong to you?”
He shook his head. “You know what I meant. You are a valued member of my staff. You—”
“No,” she interrupted. She pulled back her hand, sitting up. Suddenly she was so furious she couldn’t think straight. “You had it right the first time. You think I belong to you. That you own me. That I’m your possession.” So much for imagining herself to be his adored mistress! “You think I have no feelings.” She slapped down on the nearby table. “Like this!”
“Do not be dramatic. I pay you well. There is no question of you being my possession. You stay in my employ because you appreciate your situation.”
“And now?” She looked around them at the luxurious place that had suddenly lost its glamour. “Am I working for you now?”
He ground his teeth. “No. You know you are not!”
“Then who am I to you?”
“Here, you are my mistress. Beyond this island, you are the best servant on my staff. You oversee all of my homes, coordinating with the other housekeepers. I could not manage without you.”
He might as well have slapped her across the face.
“Perhaps it really is time for me to move on,” she said slowly, feeling numb. Why did she feel so betrayed, when she’d known all along how this would end?
“No,” he said furiously. “You won’t go work for him—or any other man. You belong to—with,” he corrected himself as he caught her glare, “me.”
His hands grasped her naked waist in the bright sunlight. She looked down into his gray eyes. His face was dark, almost savage. She could hear the hoarseness of his breath. Their eyes locked.
His fingers tightened on her almost painfully.
Then he reached up and kissed her.
His kiss was hard and deep, a plundering of her mouth, as if he’d held something back for far too long, as if the master had himself been enslaved by an unwilling passion he could no longer control. His kiss abruptly became more persuasive, wistful and sensual in a way she could not resist. She wrapped her arms around his neck as, with a low growl, he pulled her back against his naked body on the lounge chair. She could feel how he already wanted her again.
“You belong to me,” he whispered. “Say it.”
“Never,” she said.
But her defiance only seemed to increase the force of his passion. He made love to her again beneath the hot Greek sun, hard and fast and with a brutality that matched her own passionate desire.
“You’re the only woman I trust,” he said in a low voice afterward, caressing her cheek as he looked down at her cradled in his arms. “The only woman I’ve trusted in a long, long time.”
But as he held her and closed his eyes, dozing in the sun, tears streaked unheeded down Louisa’s sunburned cheeks.
She was well and truly caught.
She had to face it. Though she knew it was nothing more than a fantasy, though she knew it was foolish, stupid and dangerous, she could no more stop loving him than stop breathing. No two-day idyll would cure her of loving Rafael.
She did belong to him. Completely.
BACK in Istanbul the next afternoon, Louisa stumbled as she came out of the private hospital northeast of Taksim Square. Blindly she stepped into the street.
A loud honk made her fall back as she was nearly run over by a taxi driver who shouted at her in fluent, expressive Turkish. Gasping, almost crying, Louisa stood trembling on the sidewalk, shivering with shock.
Pregnant.
She was pregnant with Rafael’s baby. Pregnant with the child she’d promised him she could never conceive!
Over the last week, she’d tried to mock her own fears, tried to convince herself she was being foolish to worry. But she hadn’t been foolish at all. The doctor had just confirmed her worst fears had been right on target.
What would Rafael say when she told him?
She walked down the street, took deep breaths until she stopped trembling, then climbed back into the tiny car that was used by the staff. She drove north through the thick traffic to the outskirts of Beyoğlu.
They’d been back in Istanbul for only a few hours, but already everything had changed between them. Rafael had immediately gone to his home office and barked out orders to various assistants about the upcoming real estate deal he was hoping to have signed tonight. And all the house staff had rushed to her with their questions about the final preparations for the dinner party.
Louisa had become his employee again. Rafael had become her boss.
They’d left the lovers behind on the island. Left them behind forever.
Now, Louisa stared out at the busy traffic, colorful billboards and old buildings of the city through the grimy glass. The car needed to be washed, she thought dimly. She’d have to tell the chauffeur’s assistant when she got back…
Should she even tell Rafael she was pregnant?
Her great-aunt’s words came back to her. Always be honest, child. Tell the truth, even if it hurts. Better to hurt now than twice as much later.
But Louisa wasn’t so sure. She’d saved five years of her salary in Europe, since she’d never taken time to travel or see the sights. She’d always told herself she mustn’t be selfish—Mr. Cruz’s needs must come first. She’d told herself she would see the sights of Europe later. Somehow, that time had never come.
And what did she have to show for it? She was just five years older. Pregnant. Alone!
The shaking vibration of the little car as she drove north on the old road was hypnotic.