“I cannot just live with you, doing nothing,” she said quietly. “I married you and came to Buenos Aires because you left me no choice, but you must see that this cannot last. Let me at least act the part of your housekeeper. Because you do not want me as your wife.”
“And you?” he said mockingly. “Do you want me as your husband?”
She swallowed, trying not to remember the ridiculous dreams she’d had after she’d first found out she was pregnant, when she’d dreamed of Rafael falling in love with her. When she’d imagined him changing somehow into a good father, a good husband. Then, she’d wanted…
She shook her head. She wouldn’t think of it! “I was doing fine on my own. Noah and I were happy in Key West.”
“Too bad.” He took a drink of the expensive red wine from the crystal glass. “You’re never going back.”
It was exactly what she’d feared he would say, but she lifted her head defiantly. “Of course we’re going back. I have a business to run, and a family that needs me—”
“Consider the bakery a gift to your sister,” he said carelessly. “She now owns it.”
She stared at him in shock, then narrowed her eyes.
“You are out of your mind,” she said tersely, stabbing her fork toward him in midair for emphasis, “if you think I’ll let you just give away the business I love, the business I built and created with my life savings after I worked for you for five hard years—”
“Yes, I am certain that was a fate worse than death,” he said coolly, taking another sip of the red wine. “But your sister and her daughter will do well with the bakery. They will be happy and secure. That is what you want, is it not?”
She ground her teeth.
“Of course it is. But I want to be there with them! I’ve missed too much time with them already,” she said softly, then shook her head. “Florida is my home. You cannot take me away from a place where I’ve made friends—”
“Sí,” he said sardonically. “I saw your many friends when I was there. Why don’t you admit the truth about why you’re so desperate to return?”
“Because I hate the sight of you?”
To her frustration, he seemed untouched by her jab. He only gave her a cold smile. “Who is he?”
“He?”
“The man you have been seeing. Or was there more than one? I might have been your first experience in bed, but how long did you wait for your second and third and fourth?” His cold eyes met hers over the table. “Tell me, Louisa. How many men did you invite to your bed while you were still pregnant with my child?”
She stared at him in horror. Then, she rose from the table. Looking down at him, she raised her hand but he grabbed her wrists. He was so strong she could not pull away.
He stared at her for a moment in cold fury. She felt the pounding of her own heart, heard the soft gasp of her own breath. Felt the electricity in
the air suddenly change between them.
Then, lowering his head to hers, he claimed her mouth in a punishing kiss.
Louisa tried to fight. Tried to push him away. He was bruising her, hurting her—
Then his kiss suddenly gentled. His hold on her became seductive, his arms caressing her softly, so softly, that her shirt and shorts disappeared as if blown off her body by a light warm breeze. His lips moved against her so tenderly, so lovingly, that she could not resist.
She wrapped her arms around his neck as he lifted her up into his arms and carried her, not to the bed, but to the nearby couch covered with a white sheet. There, he made love to her with such amazing tenderness that she wept.
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…?