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Why was he being so strangely cold? Louisa thought. This woman was his mother! Whoever his father had been—she was the one who’d given birth to him, loved him, raised him!
She’d hoped that Rafael was starting to forgive her, that he was starting to allow the goodness of his heart to shine thro
ugh. But now…she didn’t know what to think.
Holding her own baby against her hip, Louisa smiled at the older woman.
“Welcome to our home, Señora Cruz,” she added warmly in English. “I am so happy to meet you at last.”
The other woman blinked at Louisa in her white cotton tea-length dress, peering at baby Noah in a white shirt and black pants with a little tie. Louisa had chosen their clothes with care. Meeting Rafael’s mother was important to her. And yet—she glanced over at Rafael. He was casually dressed in a black shirt and dark jeans. Why had he, alone in the group, made no effort?
Agustina blinked at Louisa and the baby. “Thank you, my dear. But who are you?”
“I am Rafael’s new wife.”
Agustina turned reproachful eyes upon her son, still standing grim and silent behind them. “Rafael, you are married?” she chided gently.
He shrugged.
“And this,” Louisa added quickly, to cover up for her husband’s coldness, “is our baby. Noah.”
Agustina stared at the baby. “Your…your baby?” she gasped. Tears filled her eyes. “My grandson?”
Louisa nodded. Smiling, she placed the baby in his grandmother’s arms.
“Oh mi nieto, mi pequeño angelito,” the woman whispered. Tears fell unheeded down her face as she held the baby in her arms.
Watching her joy, tears filled Louisa’s eyes as well. She looked back at her husband with a smile, expecting to see the same emotion in his face. Instead his dark eyes were blank. Expressionless. Dead.
“Come,” he said in a low voice. “Let’s sit down for dinner.”
The meal was a joyful one—at least for the baby, mother and grandmother. Agustina Cruz was a lovely, warm, charming woman. She reminded Louisa of her own mother, whom she missed very much.
“That was delicious,” Agustina said at the end of the meal, when she’d finished the last bite of Louisa’s brownies covered with vanilla ice cream and butterscotch crumble.
“Thank you.” Louisa had insisted on preparing the meal herself, as an expression of respect and care. Rafael had scoffed at that idea, then shrugged and let her do it.
Louisa had thought, when he’d come home at noon after being out all night, that she’d done everything she could to make him happy here. She’d worked on the house most of the night and all of the morning between caring for the baby. She’d dressed with care. She’d baked his favorite foods. She’d really thought she was starting to get through to him…especially after she’d been able to learn from the bodyguard, to her intense relief, that Rafael had spent the previous night alone at a hotel.
It had killed her to pretend she didn’t care. But she knew Rafael too well. She couldn’t play by the same rules as his other women had done. She had to keep him guessing. Keep him off balance. It was her only hope of gaining what she truly wanted.
His happiness—and her own.
Agustina set down her fork. “What an amazing meal.”
“Louisa made it. To honor you,” Rafael said coldly.
Gratitude and joy washed over his mother’s face.
“Thank you. Both of you,” Agustina said tearfully. “I was so afraid you’d never forgive me, Rafael. You must believe that I never meant to hurt you when I wouldn’t share your father’s name…”
“Hate you? Why would I hate you?” He took another drink of brandy then set the empty glass hard against the table. “Just because you waited until he was dead—just because you made sure I never had a real father and left me begging you for answers for twenty years—why would I hate you?”
Her plump cheeks had gone pale. “Rafael,” she whispered, “I thought you understood.”
“I do understand. And now—” he rose to his feet “—you will finally understand as well. You will know how it feels.” He stared down at her. “You’ve met my family. For the first and only time. Now, you will never see them again.”
“What?” Louisa gasped.
