“Where are you going?”
“I’m taking my son home.”
“No!” she shrieked. Racing ahead of them, she blocked the door. “You can’t take my baby away from me—you can’t!”
“We’ll come to a custody arrangement.” He had the satisfaction of seeing her shoulders sag with relief before he mercilessly continued, “You’ve had Noah for the last eight months. I will take him for the next eight months.” Cradling his baby son against his shirt, he turned to go. “You will hear from my lawyers sometime before next Christmas.”
“No!” she screamed, pulling on his arm. “You can’t take him from me—his mother! Not for eight months!”
He glanced back at her coldly. “Can I not? But that is what you have done to me. You’ve had your time. I will have mine. Is that not ‘fair’ enough for you?” he said mockingly.
“No,” she wept freely. “Please. It would kill me.”
Rafael looked down at her. Somehow, in her abject grief and surrender, even with her nose red and tears streaking down her cheeks, she was still beautiful. He still wanted her. It infuriated him.
He heard the baby start to cry, his loud wailing mingling with Louisa’s. Rafael awkwardly tried to comfort the baby, but could not. He had no experience with babies and no idea how to comfort Noah. He did not know his own son. The injustice of it raged in his heart as, setting his jaw, he gently handed the baby to Louisa.
“Noah. Oh, Noah.” Louisa’s weeping only intensified as she cradled her baby against her, whispering words of love, kissing his chubby cheeks again and again. “Oh, my sweet baby.”
Rafael stared down at them. He took a deep breath. And came to a sudden decision.
“Vale,” he said through clenched teeth. “I will not separate you.”
“Thank you,” Louisa whispered.
He stared at her coldly. “It’s for my son’s sake. Not yours.”
She rocked the baby in her arms, her breath still uneven between sobs and hiccups. Rafael looked at her, then looked slowly around the room, from the sheer curtains over the window to the giraffe on the wall above the crib.
She was, he thought grudgingly, a decent mother. What she would not be—what she could never be again—was a woman he could trust.
But that didn’t stop Rafael from wanting her.
There is someone else, she’d said.
Who was the man? Rafael’s hands clenched. How many lovers had been in Louisa’s bed over the last year, while he’d tossed and turned, tormented by longing for his fantasy of her as he’d believed her to be—honest, loving, chaste?
For all these years, Louisa Grey was the one woman he’d never been able to completely possess.
Now, he wanted to punish her. To break down her elusiveness. To own her.
Then discard her like the rest.
An idea occurred to him. A cruel, perfect idea.
It would be a neat, tidy, perfect revenge.
He smiled grimly. Walking across the nursery, he placed his hand on her shoulder.
“There is just one condition,” he said brutally.
“Anything,” she whispered. “Just don’t separate me from my son.”
Lowering his head, Rafael gave her a seductive kiss. He possessed her mouth with his, luring her with his tongue. He felt her shiver in his arms. He felt her sigh, then surrender.
When he pulled away, he saw the haze of longing in her eyes, and hid a smile.
She thought she’d beaten him, but he would make her pay. He was the master of the coldhearted seduction. Soon, his possession of her would be complete.