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?
Absolutely not, Hana told herself. Why would Ren imagine himself in love with her, when he had so many girls interested in him, right here in Tokyo?
He was her dear friend, like always. And he’d help her figure out what to do now. Hana tried to imagine what he’d say when he heard about her unexpected pregnancy—and how her boss had abandoned and fired her. Ren already disliked Antonio intensely, though the two men had never actually met. Her boss didn’t even know of Ren’s existence. Why would he? Hana’s childhood friendship had been entirely through letters, and even now it was mostly online.
As the taxi turned toward the hip, colorful street in Harajuku where Ren managed his family’s boutique hotel, she took a deep breath. She was not going to cry over Antonio. No way, no how. He wasn’t worth it. He’d proven himself totally unworthy of either Hana or their baby.
So she’d move on. Think only of the future. She’d put Antonio Delacruz behind her and never, ever think of him again.
But still, she heard the echo of Antonio’s sensual voice spoken into the hot, dark Spanish night.
There will be no romance, no marriage. No consequences.
And in spite of her resolve to feel nothing, Hana gasped out a sob, hating him with fresh, hot tears.
Liar!
“Possible?” Antonio choked out, dumbfounded. “What do you mean, it’s possible?”
“Just what I said.” The doctor looked at him gravely over his thick glasses. “We did the test, as you requested. And the results are conclusive.”
It was good Antonio was already sitting down. He felt sick and dizzy at the news. The minimalist decor and medical equipment in the examining room of the private clinic swam in front of his eyes.
“I don’t understand,” he stammered. “As I told you, I had a vasectomy eighteen years ago, at a reputable hospital—”
“Yes. It seems your body has healed itself.”
Antonio stared at the doctor in shock.
All morning, he’d felt his insides churn, in spite of his best efforts not to think about the lies Hana had told him on the sidewalk: pretending to be pregnant with his baby, clearly in an attempt to extort money or a proposal of marriage. Going to the top floor of the skyscraper with his team, he’d pushed aside the feelings of betrayal and rage, and tried to focus on the details of the business negotiation.
But the meeting had been a disaster. He hadn’t been able to find the right papers in the portfolio, or track down the points he’d previously marked to discuss with his lawyers before they formally presented the offer to Iyokan Airways. Hana had always been in charge of solving his problems, finding papers, sorting out details, arranging whatever he needed.
Now he was alone.
Abandoned.
Betrayed.
During the meeting, his lawyers and his Tokyo lead team had looked at each other worriedly as they were forced to repeat certain clauses in the contract multiple times to their normally razor-sharp boss. Emotion—rage and anger and, worst of all, hurt—had built inside him, until finally, it had exploded. He’d scattered the pile of papers in fury across the large glass table in his conference room on the top floor of the skyscraper, with its view of Tokyo.
“Reschedule,” he’d growled, and stalked out, knowing they were probably wondering if he was drunk, or if he’d lost his mind—or his nerve. His business rivals would smell blood in the water. He himself had always enjoyed attacking the businesses of weaker opponents. He’d never experienced what it was like to be on the other side of it. Not since he was young, when he was helpless and alone—
He pushed the memory aside. This was Hana’s fault. His secretary had betrayed him at every level. Personally. Professionally.
He never should have slept with her. The success of his company was far more important than any sexual desire. CrossWorld Airways was the only thing that mattered. Once he expanded routes into Asia, he would build to Africa and South America. He would have the first truly global low-cost airline. His company was his family, his lover, his religion and meaning. His company was his soul.
So why had he done it? Why, when she’d kissed him, that night in Madrid, hadn’t he had the strength to push her away?
Yes, Hana was beautiful. But he’d ignored beautiful women before. It was something more. She’d been different. Pure fire. And when she’d kissed him, he could have no more pushed her away then he could have stopped breathing.
He’d wanted her then. He wanted her still.
But she’d been setting a trap for him, all along. Playing him for a fool, luring him in with her innocent beauty and apparent warm heart. All so she could seduce him and claim to be pregnant. He could hardly believe he’d been tricked so thoroughly.
But that was the problem.
The whole thing was hard to believe.