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“A strong man,” she said, “allows himself to be vulnerable. He shows his love at any cost. A truly strong man gives everything he has—everything he is—to his family. He loves with all his heart and holds nothing back!”
“And where did you learn that? Housekeeping school?” he sneered.
“No,” she said simply, facing down his sarcasm. “I learned it from my father, who though he never made a fortune, he made us feel every day like we were valued and loved.”
Rafael sucked in his breath through his teeth.
“Forget it,” he barked. Pulling on some jeans and a black T-shirt, he stuffed his feet into black Italian-made shoes and headed for the door.
“Where are you going?”
He looked back at her just once. His face was dark in the shadows of the apartment.
“Out,” he said.
“Out? Out where? It’s midnight!”
He gave a hard laugh. “The night is young—for me. I guess I’m too weak to stay.” His eyebrows lowered as he ordered her, “Be ready for me upon my return. Perhaps I will want you again.” A cold smile curved his mouth. “Perhaps not.”
She stared at him, her heart throbbing painfully in her throat.
“Don’t do this, Rafael,” she choked out, blinking back tears. “Stay and talk to me. Please. I want so much for us to—”
“I’ve had enough talk for one night,” he said coldly. Opening the door, he walked out. She saw him have a quiet word with the huge bodyguard outside as the door closed behind him.
Louisa shook with humiliation and despair. She went to the window and stepped out onto the wrought-iron balcony, staring out into the twinkling lights of Recoleta and all Buenos Aires beyond it in the warm, humid night.
Looking down, she watched Rafael leave the building, watched him with her heart in her throat and tears streaking her face.
He glanced up. Their eyes met.
Then he coldly turned away. He climbed into the yellow sports car his bodyguard had brought to the curb. Stepping on the gas, he drove off into the night.
Where was he going? Louisa wondered with anguish. To meet another woman?
She stayed
on the balcony for a long time after he left, feeling trapped, feeling helpless. The city at her feet still seemed to be busy and alive, noisy and young. All of the things she no longer felt.
Louisa was so tired, but she knew she would not be able to sleep. Not when her emotions were so wound up. Not when pain and love and helplessness made her shake.
Then she had an idea.
If Rafael couldn’t stand a direct discussion, she would come at him sideways.
She would lure him into their marriage through the weak point he would never think to guard. She would seduce him with her skills. She would give him a home.
A small smile traced her lips as she left the balcony. Crossing the apartment, she flung open the front door. She spoke directly to his head bodyguard outside, an American named Evan Jones who rose respectfully to his feet.
“I need your help,” she told him coolly, in her housekeeper voice that no staff member could ever resist. And neither did he.
As she gave him her instructions, Louisa suddenly felt a surge of optimism. She might no longer be Rafael’s housekeeper, but she still had power in his life. More than she’d ever had before. And though he did not know it, Rafael himself had given it to her. He’d done it when he’d made her his wife.
Chapter Nine
RAFAEL didn’t return to the apartment until noon the next day.
He’d met some old school friends for a drink, but when women had come up to them at the bar, he’d found himself bored. Not just bored—uncomfortable. And so he’d left.
