“Get her pregnant, and she’ll play you for a fool,” Novros said lazily. He stroked the polished wood of the door frame thoughtfully. “She did do excellent work overseeing this house. A very clever girl—and beautiful to boot. Send her to me, won’t you, when you’re tired of her?”
After the man left, Rafael sat still at his desk, staring blankly at the wallpaper across the study.
Louisa had said she was on the Pill. He’d blindly believed her. He’d told himself Louisa Grey would never tell a lie. He, who trusted no woman, had trusted her!
Cold rage slowly built up inside him. Was everything Novros had said true? Had Louisa been trying to become pregnant?
She’d had ample opportunity. He hadn’t used a condom in Greece, either. In fact, she could already be pregnant now.
Placing his hands on his desk, he pushed himself to his feet. He took a deep breath, briefly closing his eyes as he clenched his fists. Then he went out into the garden.
He found Dominique waiting for him in the moonlight, pouting and smiling.
“Darling, I’ve been waiting for you for so long,” she purred. She shimmied toward him in her tiny gold dress. She reached up her arms, barely able to reach his shoulders as she gave a seductive laugh. “It took you so long.”
Coldly he pushed her away.
“Go home, Dominique,” he said. “The party is over.”
And leaving the pampered French starlet gaping behind him, he strode toward the terrace, where he saw the source of his desire, his suffering and his fury. Louisa.
Chapter Five
COLORFUL paper lanterns swung across the trees in the breeze, illuminating the dark garden above the black shimmer of the Bosphorus far below as Louisa cleaned the dishes from the terrace.
Dessert was over. Most of the guests had swiftly disappeared, returning to their rented villas or to nearby hotels, gorgeous women and wealthy men pairing off, seduced by each other and the exotic sensuality of Istanbul.
Louisa looked up when she heard a trill of low, feminine laughter. Dominique Lepetit’s laughter. She heard the murmur of Rafael’s low voice in answer.
For a moment, Louisa stared out blindly into the night. She blinked back cold tears beneath the cool breeze of wind coming off the water.
Then with a deep breath, she bent over to continue scrubbing the stone table. She gathered the silver coffeepot and dirty dishes back onto a tray. Some of the puff pastries remained, but all of her specialty caramel-macadamia brownies had been devoured down to the last crumbs. Rafael had never gotten his birthday brownie after all…
Louisa heard footsteps on the terrace and looked up.
A tall, dark-haired man stood alone on the other side of the terrace. He looked her over with an appre ciative glance.
“You are Miss Grey?”
“Yes.”
“I enjoyed those bars you made. What were they?”
She swallowed. “My secret recipe.”
“A secret. How delightful.” He wasn’t entirely handsome; he had a slightly crooked nose, and a cruel twist to his lips as he said carelessly, “And if I offered to pay you a million dollars?”
She lifted her chin. “I still wouldn’t give it to you. It’s mine.”
For a moment, he stared at her. Then he smiled. “Good for you.”
And with those incomprehensible words, the man left her. She stared after him for a moment, frowning as she lifted the tray full of all the dirty dishes, whiskey and brandy bottles and small plates of half-eaten desserts.
“What did he say to you?”
Rafael’s voice was harsh behind her.
Louisa almost dropped the tray as she whirled around. He took the tray from her grasp and set it back down on the stone table. His gray eyes flashed.