Lowering her gaze, she gently placed her gloved hand around the arm of his black tuxedo jacket. “Shall we greet our guests?”
As they entered the palacio’s ballroom, Antonio saw it had been transformed. The gilded mirrors were now covered with red roses, like a romantic fantasy.
Strange. He’d owned this palacio for a decade. He’d bought it as a symbol of how far he’d come, a way to prove to everyone, especially himself, that he was no longer a scruffy orphan, a pathetic squalling foundling who’d had to be given a name by the shocked nuns at a church.
This palace had been commissioned in the early nineteenth century by a young nobleman who’d come to a bad end in a duel, dying for love, “which,” Antonio always finished smugly when he’d told the story, “shows he was too stupid to deserve such a magnificent home.” It had taken several years of remodeling to bring the palace into the current century, with modern comforts and technology.
But Antonio had left this ballroom almost intact, from the gilded mirrors to the vibrant frescoes of Cupid and amorous couples on the ceiling. The ballroom had seemed a useless anachronism, so ridiculously romantic he’d never bothered with it. And it had never been more romantic than now, covered with flowers and filled with guests in tuxedos and ball gowns.
But somehow, he didn’t hate it.
Antonio looked at his regally beautiful wife on his arm, listening as she greeted each guest courteously and intelligently, thanking them for attending CrossWorld Airways’s charity fund-raiser in several different languages. He felt a swell of pride.
The evening passed in a swirl of conversation and laughter, with three hundred people in the ballroom all charmed by his wife, unable to resist her sweet pleas that they should donate to the CrossWorld Kids charity, which in addition to raising funds for medicine and supplies would offer free transport to medical teams. As she told heartfelt stories of the good that could be done, he was mesmerized by her beautiful face and the tremble of her voice. He congratulated himself on marrying her.
Antonio felt strangely reluctant to leave her side during the ball. He was irritated when he was interrupted by Horace Lund, the recently divorced owner of the American avionics firm that had lately become a takeover target, the same company Hana had pleaded with him to leave alone. But how could he, when Lund Avionics was so ripe for the taking?
As the pudgy, sweaty, anxious man pulled him into a quiet corner of the ballroom, Antonio gritted his teeth. “What do you want?”
He braced himself, wondering if the man would burst into sobs and beg for money. Maybe he should call security before Lund ruined the whole charity ball.
Horace Lund took a deep breath, then said unhappily, “I want you to buy my company.”
Antonio’s jaw dropped, then he caught himself. “Because you know I will take it, whether you wish it or not.”
“My company is a picked-over bone being fought over by dogs. And there’s no way I can consolidate our debts, not in the middle of this divorce.” The middle-aged man wiped his eyes. “I’d rather sell my company to you whole than risk another corporation getting it. At least I know you won’t break my company up for parts and fire all our employees.” He took a deep breath. “As long as my employees still have jobs...”
The older man cut a pitiable figure. Antonio discovered he felt sorry for him. But why should he? The man had done it to himself. Lund had been an idiot for not asking his wife for a prenup before she divorced him. Just being around the sad, hunched man made Antonio feel edgy. It made him more determined than ever to make Hana sign the papers tonight, no matter how proud of her he was in this moment.
He looked back at Hana, glowing onstage as she spoke so earnestly about CrossWorld’s new charity. He remembered her voice. Plus, I don’t like kicking someone when they’re down.
“No,” he heard himself say suddenly. “I won’t buy it.”
“You’re going to let the other airline take it?” The other man’s eyes filled with fear. “They’re heartless. They’ll fire everyone—”
“I’m offering you a loan, Lund,” he said abruptly. “On reasonable terms.”
Lund almost staggered with shock. “You—want to help me?”
“You’re the best electronics supplier in the business,” Antonio said. “It would be inconvenient for me if you went bust.”
“How can I ever repay you,” the man whispered, choking up, reaching out to shake his hand.
Antonio pulled away, pushing a card into his hand. “Don’t thank me. Just contact my lawyers.”
Lund shook his head in wonder. “Why, Delacruz? You’ve always been a shark. Why would you save me?”
“It’s a business decision, nothing more,” Antonio blurted out, and fled. Stepping out into the privacy of the hallway outside his ballroom, he called his lawyers. Afterward, as he returned to the crowded ballroom, with all its music and flowers, he still couldn’t understand why he’d done it. He’d had an excellent chance of buying the shares cheap and taking control of the company at a stellar profit. What was wrong with him?
Hana. She was what was wrong. It wasn’t enough that she’d gained the loyalty of his employees and tried to take over his company. She was starting to make Antonio doubt his own priorities.
You’ve always been a shark.
His hands tightened. It wouldn’t be enough to get Hana out of his company, he suddenly realized. He needed her out of his soul. Out of his heart.
Antonio felt the shiver of ice down his spine, the one he always felt when he felt the air around him changing. Gritting his teeth, he pushed the feeling aside. He just liked the American company’s cockpit instrument displays, that was all. As Lund had said, the bigger airline would have consumed it whole. Their CEO was a corporate blood
sucker.