The world is your oyster, kid, her father had always said when he was proud of her. Hana took a deep breath.
Somewhere. Somehow. She’d make the two of them a home.
As she got out of the hot shower, she dried off, brushing her long dark hair, then pulled on an ivory silk nightgown and robe from her bag. Her stomach growled, and she remembered she hadn’t eaten since she’d arrived in Tokyo.
But as she was reaching to call room service, the phone rang. Nervous it might be Ren, she snatched it up. “Hello?”
“You turned off your mobile.” Antonio’s voice was accusing.
She gripped the receiver. “How did you find me?”
“It wasn’t hard to guess you’d be staying at Tanaka’s hotel,” he said sardonically.
“What do you want?”
“We need to talk.” His husky voice made her toes curl in spite of herself. She hardened her heart.
“We already did. In the park.”
“I have more to say—”
“Don’t call me again.” And she hung up.
Almost immediately, the penthouse’s phone began to ring again. She picked up the receiver and slammed it back without saying a word. Then she called the front desk of the hotel and told them to hold all calls to her room.
Antonio either couldn’t believe she’d turned down his fantastic offer to be his temporary mistress, or else he had urgent questions about business negotiations. But she didn’t have to put up with his whims or worry about his ego anymore.
So she wouldn’t.
Feeling too exhausted to think, Hana curled up on the enormous bed.
Her eyes flew open when she heard a hard knock on the door. Antonio, she thought groggily. But he couldn’t know her room number. Surely none of the staff would give that information to a stranger. Stumbling to her feet, she went to the door and looked through the peephole.
She saw only a uniformed member of hotel staff.
Tightening the belt on her silk kimono robe, she opened the door the barest crack. “Yes?”
“Flowers, ma’am,” the young man said, an explanation that was utterly unnecessary because five uniformed staff members stood behind him in the hallway, all holding huge full vases—red roses, pink tulips and other, more exotic flowers, enough to fill an entire shop.
“All of these—for me?” she stammered.
“Yes, miss.”
“Who sent them?”
The man handed her a card. Tearing it open, Hana saw a brief sentence in Antonio’s arrogant scrawl.
Talk to me.
Her heart leaped to her throat. Antonio could be ruthless and utterly single-minded when he wanted something. Had that one simple word—No—suddenly made him decide he wanted her? For his bed? For the boardroom? Where?
It didn’t matter. He couldn’t have her. He couldn’t just fire her, reject her—then think he could have her back whenever and however he wanted!
“Stop,” she cried, blocking them from entering her penthouse suite with the flowers. “I don’t want them!”
The staff members looked at each other in bewilderment. “What shall we do with them, ma’am?” one ventured.
“I don’t care—send them to the hospital—or you can have them! Do whatever you want with them, but they can’t come in here!”