“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.