by Jennie Lucas
“Why are you acting like this?” Hana glared at him. “Just because I didn’t want us to buy that poor man’s company at fire sale prices?”
“Since you mention it, I think it does confuse some of my employees when you give orders, since you don’t have an official position at the company.”
“I’m your equal partner,” she said.
He said nothing.
Searching his closed face, she pressed, “I am, aren’t I?”
“The post-nup is fairly standard.” Antonio suddenly wouldn’t meet her eyes. “It just says, in case of a split, we’ll each keep the assets we came into the marriage with. You also get a generous settlement, of course.”
The passing streets of Madrid seemed to whirl in front of her eyes. “You...you don’t want to share the company with me.”
“Don’t say it like that.”
“Like what?”
“Accusingly,” he accused.
Hana stared at him.
After all his fine words about wanting their airline to be a family company, he was going to go back on his word and keep it for himself alone?
The foundation of everything she’d believed about their marriage shifted beneath her.
“You lied to me?”
“I’ve reassessed the situation.”
“You said the company was ours,” she said. “That we’d share it, and build it together for our child.”
Antonio looked at her emotionlessly in the back seat of the car. “You’re not the one who created an empire from nothing. It’s mine. I built it. All you did was help me a little.”
Turning, Hana stared blindly in front of her, at the blank privacy screen. She felt the soft calfskin leather of the Bentley’s leather seat beneath her fingers.
“Then...” Hana looked down at her swelling belly. She said in a low voice, “By that argument, our daughter is only mine.”
Antonio glared at her. “That’s not fair, and you know it.”
“Fair?” Hana thought of all her effort and love she’d put into CrossWorld Airways over the last two and a half years, working every bit as long and hard as Antonio had. And for the last six months, she’d done it without salary or title. She’d done it for love. Because she’d thought they were building something. As a couple. As a family.
No wonder she’d felt a growing emotional distance between them. She was the only one who’d even thought they were a team. The lump in her throat turned to a razor blade.
“Did you ever intend to share it with me?” she choked out. “Or was it just a ploy to make me marry you?”
Looking at her evenly, Antonio countered, “Is that the only reason you married me? Because you wanted to get your hands on half my company?” He shook his head furiously. “I never dreamed you’d challenge me at every step, luring the staff to your side, trying to take it from me like this!”
“I’m not!”
“Then what are you doing?”
Staring at him as the car stopped, she whispered, “Trying to make it better.”
She dimly saw the palacio ahead on their elegant, tree-lined street. As the Bentley paused, waiting to turn into the gated driveway that led into the palacio’s courtyard, Antonio suddenly narrowed his eyes, trying to see through the window. He pressed another button and spoke through the car’s intercom. “What is it, Carlos?”
“I’m not sure, señor,” the driver responded. “Someone is blocking the gate.”
Hana didn’t understand how her husband could be talking about the stupid gate, when he’d just ripped out her heart. “What made you like this?”
“Like what?” Antonio bit out, turning back to her.
“Suspicious. Cruel!”
“Experience,” he said coldly, and got out of the car.
Hana blinked, feeling sick and shivering in her maternity suit. For months, she’d been excited about tonight’s fund-raiser ball, the kickoff of the new charity initiative she’d created for the company. She’d spent weeks choosing an exquisite gown from one of the top designers in Madrid. She’d never worn a dress so fancy in her life. It was fit for a princess, far more glamorous and fairy-tale-like than the simple pink sundress that had been her wedding dress. She’d been so excited for Antonio to see her in it. In spite of being so pregnant, she’d dreamed of a romantic night, of him taking her in his arms on the dance floor. I love you, querida. I never realized it till this very moment. My heart is yours, now and forever. And it was then, only then, that she could confess her love.
Stupid dream!
Instead, they’d have to pretend to be a happy couple in front of all their high-powered guests, so the share price of CrossWorld Airways didn’t drop at rumors of a potential marital split. The stock market was ruthless. The party was due to start in an hour, and she still had to take a shower and get ready.
“Something’s happening at the gate,” their bodyguard said, getting out of the car. “Stay here, Señora Delacruz.”
At the guarded gate at the end of the tall, wrought-iron fence, Hana saw her husband approaching a strange man with his back toward them, arguing with their security guard.
Getting out of the car over the driver’s protests, she followed Antonio and their bodyguard past the privacy hedges toward their palacio’s gatehouse.
Could it be Ren? she thought with sudden longing. She hadn’t spoken to her friend since the wedding. She’d tried, but he hadn’t returned any of her messages. Could Ren have come to Madrid after all this time to say he was ready to be friends again?
Then the man’s hat fell off, and she saw he was a white-haired stranger, nothing like Ren at all.
“If you don’t leave, I’ll call the police...” the security guard was saying in Spanish, glaring at the stranger.
“But if you’ll just give him this letter...” Then the elderly man saw Antonio, and his face lit up with relief. “Señor Delacruz. It is you, is it not? I’ve seen you in the newspaper.”
Antonio glowered at him. “Who are you?”
“Please—this is for you.” The old man held out a white envelope. Antonio didn’t take it.
“Back away.” Ramon Garcia held up a brawny arm to ward off the elderly stranger.
Why such a fuss? In another moment, they’d be calling for police with sirens blazing. And all for an old man who just wanted to give Antonio something.
“What do you want, señor?” Hana asked him kindly.
The man straightened. His eyes were rheumy and red, and in spite of his carefully pressed, if outdated, coat and trousers, he smelled of wine. But he still had a strange dignity as he held out a small white envelope. “Please, señora.”
“Don’t take it,” Garcia warned, but she ignored him. She took the envelope.
“Bless you,” the elderly man whispered. “She doesn’t have long. I couldn’t let her life end like this.”
“What are you talking about?” Hana said, alarmed. “Who are you?”
“I’m Dr. Mendoza from Etxetarri, to the north.” He slowly looked at Antonio. “I delivered you when you were born.”
Antonio’s jaw dropped. It would have been hilarious to see him so surprised, if Hana hadn’t felt the same shock.
The doctor’s rheumy eyes fell as his shoulders sagged. He whispered, “Then I took you south to Andalusia, and left you in a basket.”
Hana caught her breath. No one knew that story—no one. Glancing at her husband, she waited for him to say something, anything. When he did not move, she said anxiously to the man, “Please, come inside.” What did the charity ball matter, compared to this? “We have so many questions...”
Shaking his head, he looked back at Antonio. “Your mother is dying. You must go to her—”
“Get off my property,” Antonio said grimly. “Now.”
“Antonio!” Hana cried, scandalized.
&n
bsp; “Read the letter,” the man pleaded. “Before it’s too late.”
Turning, he shuffled away, his gait uneven.
“My apologies, señor,” the gate guard said to Antonio, hanging his head.
“You should have called the police immediately,” Garcia reprimanded him, then turned to Hana. “Señora, give me the envelope.”
“Why?” she said, still watching the elderly man disappear down the street.
“I’ll dispose of it. Have it tested for anthrax, poisons, blackmail attempts, then thrown away.”
“How can you be so suspicious and rude?” Her eyes snapped to her husband. “And you!”
Antonio didn’t even look at her. Without a word, he turned on his heel and walked through the gate toward the palacio.
Still gripping the letter, she hurried after him.
Inside the courtyard, a steady stream of caterers and florists carried canapés and flower arrangements into the elegant, nineteenth-century palace, constructed of limestone in the classical style. It was difficult to keep up with his stride, so she increased her pace as much as a heavily pregnant woman could. It was almost as if Antonio didn’t want her to catch up.
Inside the palacio’s grand foyer, with its soaring ceiling and dazzling chandelier, she saw Manuelita, the housekeeper, directing traffic. “You’re back!” the older woman said, beaming at her. Hana and Manuelita had been friends for years, since she’d only been a secretary. The woman was almost like a mother to her, or at the very least an aunt. “There are some questions about the music—”
“I’m sorry, it will have to wait,” Hana called, hurrying after Antonio, who was already disappearing down the long hall, past the antique suit of armor, toward the stained glass window. When she finally caught up with him in the study, she was panting for breath.
“Antonio!” she said accusingly.
Plantation shutters blocked the sunlight, leaving her husband’s face in shadow as he looked up calmly from his dark wood desk. “Yes?”
“This letter!” Holding it out anxiously, she went to the desk. The room was masculine and dark, with bookshelves and leather furniture. A fire crackled in the fireplace. “Don’t you want to rip it open?”
He leaned back in his chair. “Not particularly.”
“Are you kidding?” She looked down at the envelope. Antonio’s name was written on it in spidery, uncertain handwriting. “But you’ve wanted to know about your past all your life!”
“Maybe once I did. Now I really don’t care.” Tenting his fingers on the desk, he curled his lip. “And the man hardly seemed credible. I smelled alcohol on him from ten feet away.”
“Just open it!” She dropped the envelope on the desk in front of him. When he didn’t move, she tilted her head challengingly. “Unless you’re afraid.”
His forehead furrowed as he stared down at the envelope. He picked it up.
Then, without reading, he abruptly crumpled it into a ball. “It is nothing.”
“You didn’t even open it!”
“I am wealthy. I am known.” He rose to his feet. “There are always crackpots who want to cause trouble, who scheme to get money.”
“But he didn’t ask for money. You heard him. He said he left you in a basket as a baby. Who even knows about that?”
His expression was hard as granite. “I’ve heard enough.” He went grimly toward the fireplace.
“Wait,” Hana said, alarmed, “you’re not going to—?”
She gasped as Antonio tossed the crumpled ball into the fire.
“How could you?” she whispered, staring at the envelope, as the spidery handwriting burned. “You don’t even want to know the reason your parents abandoned you?”
“I don’t give a damn.”
“I would give anything to have my parents or grandmother back. To have family.” Her voice became shrill. “Your parents might be alive and you don’t want to know? You won’t even give them a chance to explain?”
“No.” His voice was cold.
“Why?”
“If my parents showed up begging on their knees, I still wouldn’t speak to them. They made their choice. The doctor, if that’s really what he was, made his choice, as well.” He lifted his chin. “Let them all live with it.”
“But—”
“Never speak to me of this again.” Going back to his desk, Antonio opened a briefcase and held out a stack of papers.
“What’s this?”
“The postnuptial agreement,” he said coolly. “Read and sign it before I leave for New York tomorrow. Tonight, if possible.” Antonio gave a cold smile, his black eyes icy as a January night. “I’m going to get ready for the party.”
And he left.
Holding the post-nup in her numb hands, Hana stared at the open doorway, in shock over what she’d learned in the last hour.
Her husband had betrayed her. She thought he’d changed, but he’d never had any intention of sharing either his company or his life with her. And she knew, if she wasn’t at the office, they’d lead separate lives. He routinely worked sixteen-hour days. How could he possibly be a real father? A real husband?
He hadn’t changed. He still wouldn’t let anyone have the slightest control over his life, or his heart.
Perhaps his heart had been broken by his parents’ desertion, the day he was born. But Antonio wasn’t even interested in trying to heal or learning to trust again. He preferred to continue living as he was—with a cold heart, and an iron grip on his company and fortune. Their only real connection was when he made love to her so passionately at night. But how long could Hana continue to share her body with him, after he’d betrayed his promise to her that they would be equal partners and share their lives?
If she stayed with him, she would be his possession. His servant, almost. Servicing him in bed, running his home, raising his child.
If she stayed?
She looked around the house she’d dreamed could be her home, then down at the postnuptial agreement in her hands. In case of a split, he’d said.
There was only one play she had left. One last chance to see if she could convince him to change, to heal his heart. What did she have to lose now by taking the risk? Hana crushed the papers to her chest.
Nothing. Nothing at all.
CHAPTER TEN
ANTONIO PACED IMPATIENTLY at the bottom of the palacio’s sweeping staircase.
An hour. An hour since he’d left her in his study and told her to get ready. It wasn’t like Hana to be late. But apparently that had changed. Just as it once hadn’t been like her to attack or purposefully provoke him. But that, too, had become a habit with her lately.
At first, working with her had been good, just like when she was his secretary. All summer, they’d shared the thrill of closing the deals that gave CrossWorld Airways the routes they needed for exponential growth. First had been Tokyo, then Rio, then Nairobi. Tomorrow, he’d leave for New York to deal with the union. Once he built out North America, it would be the final piece of the puzzle.
But over the summer, Hana had changed. She’d started to flaunt her growing influence. Which was a problem. Because while Antonio’s employees respected and feared him for his vision, hard work and ruthlessness, they loved Hana.
He didn’t understand why she’d changed, when she’d never once tried to work against him before. Gaining the loyalty of his company’s leadership team! Contradicting Antonio’s orders!
Hearing her defy his decisions in front of his staff that morning, after the COO had actually demanded for Hana to be on the board—as chairman, second only to Antonio’s status as CEO!—had been the final straw. He’d known he had to get her out of the company for good. It was bad enough that she already had so much power over him as his wife and the mother of his child. He couldn’t let her seize the leadership of his company from him, along with ev
erything else.
He’d been insane to ever offer to share his airline with her. He’d been out of his mind at the time, desperate to convince her to marry him. But he’d never imagined Hana could act like this, trying to seize control, to push Antonio out of the company he’d built with his bare hands. Without the company, who was he?
No one.
Well, he’d come to his senses. Hana would sign the post-nup. He didn’t truly believe she wanted to lead the company. He didn’t know why she’d become so focused on business. What she really wanted was a home and family. How many times had she said it? And that was what he’d given her. He’d kept the headquarters in Madrid because she wanted to live here, where she’d made friends. He would be glad for her to run her new charity initiative, as long as she stopped trying to run his company.
So why was she late for her own fund-raiser? Antonio straightened in his well-cut tuxedo, gritting his teeth as he looked up the staircase. Did she expect him to greet their guests alone?
Stopping his pacing, he scowled, narrowing his eyes. His hands tightened at his sides. Perhaps she’d gotten distracted listening to a staff member’s problems. Her caring heart left her an easy mark. Like the way she hadn’t wanted to do a hostile takeover of Lund Avionics, because it was “unthinkably cruel.” Or how she’d fallen for the story of the elderly so-called doctor who’d dropped off that ridiculous letter claiming to be the truth about Antonio’s parents. He scowled. He’d barely picked up the envelope before his hands had started shaking so hard he’d known there was only one thing to do—destroy it.
Just open it. Unless you’re afraid.
He couldn’t believe Hana would ambush him that way. Why would she ever think he’d want to open some crackpot’s letter?
There’d been no reason for him to read it. Either the old man had been lying, in which case reading it was a waste of his time, or else he was telling the truth—in which case, Antonio really didn’t want to read it. If the parents who’d cold-bloodedly abandoned him as a newborn suddenly wanted to worm their way back into his life now they’d discovered he was rich, Antonio wanted no part of it.
