His eyebrows lowered fiercely. “April Fool’s Day was yesterday.”
“It’s not a joke. I’m pregnant.”
Antonio told himself he felt nothing. He wouldn’t, couldn’t, feel the rush of emotion suddenly circling him like a predator, looking for any crack in his armor, so it could invade and destroy his heart.
She’d slept with another man.
He tapped the roof of the car harder than necessary, and the chauffeur drove away from the curb. Forcibly relaxing his shoulders, he said merely, “I thought you had more sense.”
Hana’s sweep of dark eyebrows lifted over her warm brown eyes in surprise. “What?”
He wondered who the baby’s father might be. She’d been a virgin when—he cut that thought off immediately. But she must have found a new lover right after.
The same week?
The same night?
For Hana, it would be easy. Any man would desire her. Unwillingly, Antonio’s gaze traced over her slender form. Hana Everly was the most beautiful woman he’d ever met, though he’d spent almost two years trying to pretend she wasn’t, trying to think of her as only his secretary and nothing more.
Her beauty was elusive and indefinable. All the attributes of her melting-pot American heritage combined into exquisite grace. He’d asked her once about her ancestry, and she’d shrugged. “I’m American. My family came from everywhere. England, Ireland, Brazil, Japan. Other places. And you, Mr. Delacruz?”
“Spain,” he’d said shortly. It was probably true, but he’d never know for sure.
Now, Hana looked at him, her brown eyes huge in her oval face, her lips pink and full, her dark hair pulled back into a long ponytail. Always the consummate professional, she wore an elegant, feminine white skirt suit that was simple and sleek as required for the executive assistant to a billionaire, without drawing undue attention.
And yet Hana always drew attention, whether she wished it or not. Even here on the Tokyo sidewalk, as men passed by, their eyes lingered on her. She looked untouchable as a star.
But Antonio had touched her. He was the only man who ever had.
At least so he’d believed—
“Is that all you have to say to me?” Hana said in a low, harsh voice, her lovely face caught between anger and pain. “You thought I had more sense?”
“I’m disappointed,” he said tightly.
“Disappointed,” she repeated.
He’d relied on her. Believed in her. Now she was pregnant by another man. She was going to quit her job to be with him and raise their child. That had to be the reason he felt this crushing sense of emotion, like he couldn’t breathe. Hana was the best damn secretary he’d ever had, and he was going to lose her.
How had she hidden her love affair from him? He and Hana had been working together day and night in Madrid and around the world, preparing to negotiate this deal. How had he not known she’d taken a lover?
Antonio had known Hana’s value as his assistant. So in spite of his attraction to her, he’d never crossed the line of professionalism, not once. Not until that night in Madrid, when he’d found her crying for reasons she wouldn’t explain. He’d been trying to comfort her—that was all, truly—when, like a miracle, she’d suddenly lifted up on her tiptoes and kissed him full on the lips.
That kiss...
Antonio pushed away the memory, closing down his feelings, burying them along with the other things he didn’t want to remember.
All right, fine. She was leaving. He wouldn’t be a jerk about it. Hana had been a good assistant. He’d try to be happy for her. After all, she’d made it all too clear she wanted the whole domestic fairy tale someday—husband, kids, house. Damn it, he’d send her off with a wedding check big enough to pay for the kid’s college tuition. She’d been worth it.
He’d pay her off. He’d move on. And above all, he’d make damn sure he never let himself ask...
“Who’s the father?” he heard himself say, as if his mouth was no longer controlled by his brain.
She drew back, her lovely face incredulous. “Are you kidding? You know who the father is!”
“Do I?” He frowned, searching his memory. “I’m amazed, actually. How did you manage to sneak away for an affair, in the midst of our working twenty-hour days? Does the man work for me? A gardener? A driver?”
Hana’s face blazed with sudden fire. “Stop it, Antonio. Just stop.”