Obviously, Hana had known that Antonio wouldn’t react like the hero of a romantic movie, and kiss her joyfully at the news of her pregnancy. She’d known he didn’t want children, or the slightest commitment.
But she’d never imagined he could be such an utter bastard as this.
Trembling, she wiped her eyes as she felt the cold splatter of raindrops against her face. Why was she so surprised? As his assistant, she of all people had seen how heartless Antonio Delacruz could be, especially to his lovers. She’d seen him relentlessly pursue a woman until the thrill of the conquest started to wane. It never took long—a few weeks, or perhaps even just a single night, until he was bored, finished.
Hana had always been amazed at those foolish women who let themselves care for him, each of whom apparently believed, incredibly, that she’d be the one to finally tame the untamable playboy. Hana had pitied them. Could they not see how he turned on his interest and charm like a switch? One moment, he was a passionate lover, with all the intensity of relentless desire; the next, he was gone.
Although it wasn’t fair to say Antonio was just a plague to womankind. He treated everyone badly, men and women, though with men his ruthlessness was manifested by him taking their businesses if he wanted them—their businesses, and their girlfriends.
But Hana had thought she was special. For two years, she’d worked at his side, often twelve-hour days, seven days a week, and for the last few months, far more than that. She’d been inspired by him, challenged by him. His success was her success, and she’d given him every bit of her blood, sweat and tears to make CrossWorld Airways the global airline he wanted it to be.
She’d thought that they were partners of a sort, if not friends. But now she saw how truly unspecial she was.
You tried to trap me. Tried, and failed. Goodbye, Miss Everly.
The cold rain pattered the rhythm of his words against her, soaking through her dark hair and white suit. People stared at her as they passed by, all of them sensibly holding umbrellas to block the rain. She probably looked like a fool, standing there with her mouth still agape. She felt like one.
Antonio had made her one.
No, that wasn’t fair. Hana took a deep breath. She’d done this to herself.
Closing her eyes, she lifted her face up to the sky. But she’d never imagined in a million years that he’d fire her for being pregnant. However the world saw him, she’d thought, at his core, Antonio Delacruz was an honorable man. She’d thought, however badly he’d treated his other mistresses, he would never act that way toward her.
Hana’s eyes abruptly opened.
She, who’d always prided herself on being practical, clear-eyed and smart, had been the biggest fool of them
all.
Traffic had increased on the busy street. Rain—only rain, not tears, definitely not tears—made her vision blurry as she looked down at her white suit, now plastered to her skin, gray as a dove in the wan light.
She’d devoted her life to him, been honest with him in spite of her fear, and this was how he repaid her?
He’d insulted her. He’d fired her. And worst of all: he’d coldly rejected his own child, now growing inside her.
A white-hot flame of anger burned through her. It grew inside Hana, grew and grew until it left room for nothing else in her heart.
She and the baby were on their own.
Hana lifted her chin. Fine. They didn’t need him. They’d be better off without him—soulless, heartless, backstabbing jerk!
Her hands tightened on the strap of her purse. Her satchel of clothes was unfortunately still in the back of the Rolls-Royce that had brought them from Haneda Airport. All she had in the small black purse over her shoulder was her passport, credit cards and a little bit of cash, a mix of yen, dollars and euros. But she was also in Tokyo, which meant she had something more.
Ren.
Her best friend, whom she saw just a few times a year. Just thinking of his kindly face made her want to get to him as quickly as possible.
Blinking back hot, furious tears, she waved down a taxi. As one started to pull to the curb, she saw the driver hesitate, looking at her in the rain, obviously fearing she’d flood his upholstery given half a chance. But then he sighed and pulled his taxi over.
“Sumimasen,” she said over the lump in her throat, trying very hard to keep the wettest parts of her clothing off the seat. Holding her bag tightly against her chest, she gave him the address in Harajuku then stared out at the passing streets. Ren Tanaka. It was by sheerest luck that she’d had her heart broken in the same city where her best friend lived.
She and Ren had been friends since childhood, when they’d been pen pals as Hana traveled the world with her adventurous teacher parents. He was the only friend she’d kept in touch with, moving as often as she did, first with her restless parents and then later, working for an airline tycoon. Hana was an only child, an orphan now that her parents and grandparents had died, but somehow, in their frequent online conversations, Ren had become her family.
Although...
Unease went through her as she remembered the last time she’d seen him, on a brief business trip to Tokyo a few months earlier. He’d acted very strangely. It wasn’t actually what he’d said, so much as the way he’d looked at her. It had made her nervous.
Was it possible that somehow, after all their years of friendship, Ren could have gotten some crazy idea that he was in love with her?