Pregnant By The Ceo: Sensible Housekeeper, Scandalously Pregnant / She's Having the Boss's Baby / The Baby Who Saved Dr Cynical

Coldly he pushed her away.

“Go home, Dominique,” he said. “The party is over.”

And leaving the pampered French starlet gaping behind him, he strode toward the terrace, where he saw the source of his desire, his suffering and his fury. Louisa.

Chapter Five (#ulink_d5640691-0bb2-5229-bed3-e08a0f04317a)

COLORFUL paper lanterns swung across the trees in the breeze, illuminating the dark garden above the black shimmer of the Bosphorus far below as Louisa cleaned the dishes from the terrace.

Dessert was over. Most of the guests had swiftly disappeared, returning to their rented villas or to nearby hotels, gorgeous women and wealthy men pairing off, seduced by each other and the exotic sensuality of Istanbul.

Louisa looked up when she heard a trill of low, feminine laughter. Dominique Lepetit’s laughter. She heard the murmur of Rafael’s low voice in answer.

For a moment, Louisa stared out blindly into the night. She blinked back cold tears beneath the cool breeze of wind coming off the water.

Then with a deep breath, she bent over to continue scrubbing the stone table. She gathered the silver coffeepot and dirty dishes back onto a tray. Some of the puff pastries remained, but all of her specialty caramel-macadamia brownies had been devoured down to the last crumbs. Rafael had never gotten his birthday brownie after all…

Louisa heard footsteps on the terrace and looked up.

A tall, dark-haired man stood alone on the other side of the terrace. He looked her over with an appre ciative glance.

“You are Miss Grey?”

“Yes.”

“I enjoyed those bars you made. What were they?”

She swallowed. “My secret recipe.”

“A secret. How delightful.” He wasn’t entirely handsome; he had a slightly crooked nose, and a cruel twist to his lips as he said carelessly, “And if I offered to pay you a million dollars?”

She lifted her chin. “I still wouldn’t give it to you. It’s mine.”

For a moment, he stared at her. Then he smiled. “Good for you.”

And with those incomprehensible words, the man left her. She stared after him for a moment, frowning as she lifted the tray full of all the dirty dishes, whiskey and brandy bottles and small plates of half-eaten desserts.

“What did he say to you?”

Rafael’s voice was harsh behind her.

Louisa almost dropped the tray as she whirled around. He took the tray from her grasp and set it back down on the stone table. His gray eyes flashed.

“What did Novros say?” Rafael demanded in a low, dangerous voice.

She shook her head, frowning in confusion. “Nothing.”

“You’re lying. I heard him speak to you. Did he offer you a job?” He grabbed her wrists and suddenly the expression on his handsome face was so hard and full of repressed fury, she felt afraid. “Did he offer you something more?”

Bewildered at his strange reaction, she shook her head. “No.”

“Then what?” he demanded.

She swallowed. “He didn’t make sense.”

His grip tightened on her. “Tell me,” he ordered.

She whispered, “He offered me a million dollars for my brownie recipe, then when I wouldn’t, he just said…‘Good for you.’”

Rafael’s jaw clenched. His impossibly handsome face looked like stone in the moonlight.

“Do you know what he meant?” she asked.

With a coldly furious expression, he shook his head.

She licked her lips nervously. Why was Rafael acting so angry? She felt a lump in her throat, a nausea right beneath her ribs.

He wouldn’t release her wrist, and a hard knot of anger grew in her own throat. She thought she’d known him—known all his faults. But she’d never seen Rafael so dark, so altogether brutal.

Ripping her hand away, she demanded, “Why are you acting like this?”

“You know why,” he growled.

Grasping at straws, she asked, “Did something happen to your business deal, Mr. Cruz?”

His lips twisted into a harsh, ironic smile at the Mr. Cruz. “An interesting suggestion. It’s always about money to you, isn’t it?”

He wasn’t making any sense—any more than that Greek man had! Louisa’s hand tightened into a fist as she picked up the wet, dirty towel she’d been using to scrub the stone table. She took a deep breath. “Miss Lepetit is no doubt looking for you.”

“Miss Lepetit,” he ground through his teeth, “is gone. All the other guests have gone. We are—” his lips curved “—alone.”

“Oh,” she whispered, licking her suddenly dry lips. So this was her chance, then. Possibly her only chance to tell him she was pregnant…

But how could she tell him now, when he was acting so dark and strange?

She twisted the wet towel in her hands as she looked up at him nervously. “There’s something I need to tell you, Rafael,” she whispered. “It’s important.”

He grabbed her shoulders. Startled, she dropped the towel heavily against the stone terrace floor.

“What is it?” he demanded in a low voice.

She sucked in her breath, searching his gaze. Did he already know she was pregnant? Had he somehow guessed?

She licked her lips. “It’s not something I thought could happen. I denied it, even to myself…”

“Let me guess,” he said sardonically. “You’re desperately in love with me.”

She nearly gasped. Then, looking up into his face, she told him the truth.