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She’d never once tried to lure him. Unlike the often clumsy attempts of every woman from his elderly secretary to the cocktail waitress at the bar to gain his notice. Louisa had barely seemed to notice he was a man. That made him want her most of all. She was so mysterious. She never spoke of her feelings; never spoke of her past. She had a cool reserve, and hid her beauty beneath glasses and awful clothes.
Still, he’d promised himself he’d never seduce an employee, and he never had once been tempted to break that vow.
Until a month ago.
A mistake. His seduction of Miss Grey had been momentary lapse of willpower. From now on, he had promised himself he would have some self-control.
She was his lead house manager. She coordinated between all his homes around the world. He could not afford to lose her. And women always fell apart when he ended affairs—even previously independent, strong women always turned clingy, whining and desperate in the end. If their night together turned into a full-blown affair, the only end would be the termination of Louisa’s employment. Either she would quit, or he would be forced to fire her.
His only hope of keeping her where she belonged—directing his home and satisfying his needs before he was even half-aware of them—was to keep her at a distance.
But his resolve had disappeared from the moment he saw her today.
He’d had a horrible day. Arriving in Istanbul—too late, too late!—his whole body had been knotted up in tension and grief and fury.
Returning from his father’s funeral, the father he’d never known, he’d felt so tense his muscles had ached with his rage and failure. His chauffeur had opened the door, and as Rafael had gotten out beneath the drizzling rain, he’d loosened his tie and headed for his house, intending to seek a tall glass of whiskey and perhaps to send his private jet to Paris to collect his latest French flirtation and deliver her to Istanbul. He’d told himself his one-night-stand with his housekeeper had been a mistake that must never be repeated. It must be forgotten.
Then he’d seen Louisa in the twilight of the garden behind the mansion. Standing beneath the cypress and fig trees, she’d been holding a basket of freshly cut roses. She looked even more beautiful than he remembered, more sensual and desirable than he could bear. Looking out at the dark waters of the Bosphorus toward Asia, she’d had an expression of wonderment and wistfulness.
Louisa Grey was an oasis of calm and comfort in this chaotic, cold world.
Rafael had promised himself he wouldn’t touch her. But when she’d turned to him with her wide, black-fringed eyes, he’d looked at her slender body beneath those shapeless, ugly clothes. He’d known from that moment that he would have her again, no matter what it cost him.
He’d ordered her to come up to his bedroom. Tense and pacing, he’d waited for her. Then he’d been surprised by the maid with the tray. Later, when Louisa had deigned to come up to his room, she’d defied him as no one else dared. She’d tormented him—provoked him. Finally, when she’d drawn up her shoulders and said in a voice full of bravado, I don’t remember you so much as kissing me, something inside him had snapped.
He’d seized her.
Now, kissing Louisa was heaven. Her lips were so soft and sweet and yielding beneath his. Her skin smelled like soap and spring flowers. His whole body tightened with the force of his desire.
It was more than desire. He knew this was wrong—forbidden—but he longed for her in a way he’d never felt for any woman. The elusive Miss Grey. When he felt her surrender in his arms, a growl rose in the back of his throat. He wrapped his arms around her more tightly and started to pull her back toward the bed.
With a gasp, Louisa wrenched away from him. “No!”
“Louisa—”
“No.” She stumbled back from him violently. “We can’t do this!”
He reached his arms out for her. “We must.”
She jumped back another two steps. With a shuddering intake of breath, she put her fingertips on her lips as if she could still feel him kissing her. “I can’t,” she whispered. “I work for you.”
He knew she was right. That just made him more angry, more determined to have her.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said fiercely.
“Oh, but it does. You have a rule, Mr. Cruz,” she said, lifting her chin. Her beautiful chocolate-colored eyes glittered. “You never seduce your employees. That’s the one line you don’t cross!”
He craved her desperately. She was the one tonic that would make him forget everything he’d lost today. But he could not tell her that. He must never appear vulnerable to anyone—not to any woman on earth, let alone one of his employees!
“It is my rule, not yours,” he said coolly. “I can choose to make an exception.”
But she stepped back, out of his reach.
“I choose differently,” she said. “What happened between us in Paris was a mistake. It will never happen again. I can’t lose my career, my reputation, my life,” she whispered. “Not again!”
He frowned, trying to read her expression.
“What do you mean, again?”
