Pregnant By The Ceo. Kate Carlisle
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He gave a cold, cruel smile as he straightened. “I would take pleasure of you in my bed until I had my fill.” He stared down at her. “I would own you, as you would never own me.”
She sucked in her breath.
She looked up at him, her eyes troubled in shadow. “But would you love our baby?”
Suddenly he was done with her endless evasions. Setting his jaw, he reached into his pocket for a cell phone. He dialed a number and spoke into the phone. “Dr. Vincent, please.”
“What are you doing?”
He looked at her coldly. “Since you refuse to tell me if you’re pregnant, I will have you examined by my doctor in Paris.”
Louisa ripped the phone from his hands and ended the call. She took a deep breath.
“Well?” he said coolly.
“I’m…” She licked her lips.
He stared at her, his heart full of darkness and fury.
“I’m…” she said in a low voice. She took a deep breath, briefly closing her eyes as she said, “I’m not pregnant.”
He exhaled in a rush. “You’re not?”
She stared at him. Her eyes were pools of darkness.
Relief coursed through him, almost making him stagger.
He hadn’t been wrong about her! She could be trusted! He hadn’t been such a fool as he’d feared!
Then, staring at Louisa’s tight shoulders and barely concealed fury, he reconsidered that statement. If she was innocent, he’d just treated her very badly indeed.
Looking at her with sudden regret, he rubbed the back of his head wryly. He’d let Novros’s suspicions get to him. The Greek bastard had probably made it all up, he thought in irritation, spinning the facts for his own reasons, hoping to cause friction between Rafael and his housekeeper. Hoping he could get Louisa for himself!
He sighed. So who was a stupid fool after all…?
“Sorry,” he said, spreading his hands wide and giving her his best smile. “Forgive me. I let my suspicions get the best of me. I should have known I could trust you, Louisa…”
But as he reached out for her shoulder, she backed away before he could touch her.
Rafael ground his teeth, silently cursing both his own untrusting nature and the Greek business rival who’d so easily managed to cause such trouble in his household.
“So, Miss Grey,” he said in a determinedly jocular voice, “your housekeeping skills are desperately needed at my apartment in Buenos Aires. Please go fix it up, just as you’ve done here. There’s no reason to stay in Istanbul any longer, as I just gave this house away in a business deal—”
“You did what?”
“You’ll fly to Argentina in the morning. I will follow in a week or two, after I’ve completed the Paris deal.”
For a moment, she was silent. Then she said a single cold word.
“No.”
He tried again. “You will, of course, receive a muchdeserved raise. I intend to double your salary.”
“No,” she bit out. She lifted her chin, and her eyes glittered. “I’ve done nothing, nothing to deserve the humiliating treatment you’ve given me. My only mistake was sleeping with a heartless playboy, knowing what kind of man you were!”
He set his jaw. “Louisa, you must believe I never meant—”
“I’m not finished!” she nearly shrieked. “For the last month, I’ve asked myself again and again how I could have slept with you in Paris. Then I did it again, letting you convince me to be your mistress on that Greek island. I wanted you so desperately. For years, I’ve made excuses for your bad behavior. I told myself you had some goodness deep inside you. I’ve devoted every moment of the last five years to making your life comfortable. But now, I see you how you really are. How could I have ever let myself love you? A coldhearted, selfish bastard like you?”
“I never asked you to love me.” He gritted his teeth. “And I paid you well—”
“You’ll never pay me another penny,” she interrupted in a low, cold fury. “I won’t take one more dime from you. Ever.”
He took a deep breath. “Louisa, you’re just upset,” he said in a reasonable voice. “I admit I was rude to jump to conclusions, but surely you can see how your past looked to me? I am sorry I accused you of trying to trap me. I should have known you would never try to purposefully get pregnant with a child neither of us want. Forgive my stupidity,” he said humbly. “Let’s forget all this unpleasantness. Leave it behind and return to how we were. Boss. Valued employee.”
She shook her head, her face a mask of repressed fury and some other emotion he could not read. Disgust? Grief?
“I will never work for you again,” she whispered. “God help any woman stupid enough to be completely under your control. I’m done with you, Rafael. I never want to see you again.” She lifted her chin, and her eyes glittered. “I quit.”
Sixteen months later
THE bakery had been busy all day amid the hubbub of the early spring season in Key West. Outside, the sun was warm, glimmering off the turquoise sea and a cruise ship docked nearby. It was only early afternoon, but Louisa guessed that she’d already served nearly every tourist on that ship. As she worked the counter, she glanced at the ship briefly through the storefront window that proclaimed Grey’s Bakery.
Then, as the family of six left with their arms full of doughnuts and cookies, Louisa turned with an apologetic smile to the last customer. “Good afternoon. I’m so sorry for the wait—”
Then she finally got a good look at the man who’d been behind the throng of tourists. She sucked in her breath. The tongs she’d been holding dropped to the floor with a clang.
Rafael looked down at her, smiling with his dark eyes.
“Hello, Louisa,” he said. “How are you?”
She stared at him in shock, unable to speak.
It had been almost a year and a half since she’d left him in Istanbul, this selfish, coldhearted man who hadn’t wanted either a wife or a child. He looked at her now with the exact same gray shade of eyes as her baby son, who was now almost eight months old. The baby who was right now sleeping in the tiny office behind the counter. The baby he didn’t know about.
Involuntarily she moved a little to the right, blocking his view of the office door. What was Rafael doing in Florida? Had he somehow found out about Noah?
“What are you doing here?” she choked out.
“You don’t look pleased to see me.” He rubbed the back of his dark hair and glanced up at her with a sheepish half smile. “I guess you’re not the one who sent the letter. I hoped you were.”
“Letter?” She hid her shock by leaning down behind the counter to pick up the tongs from the tile floor. She turned and dropped them into a sinkful of soapy water. Bracing her hands against the sink, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
“Not exactly a letter,” he clarified. “It was a flyer advertising your bakery. Someone sent it to my office in Paris.”
A chill went through her. She knew just who’d sent it. Damn Katie!
Fear pierced her heart.
Don’t be afraid,