For a moment, she hesitated, knowing Antonio might never forgive her for intruding. But if her husband had no desire to heal his pain, no desire to love or be loved—no desire to even be in the same room with her!—how could they remain married? He’d told her if she ever mentioned love again, their marriage was over!
With a deep breath, Hana picked up her phone. Her hands shook as she dialed the doctor’s listed number, and listened to it ring.
And when it was finally answered, Hana learned—everything.
CHAPTER TWELVE
WHEN ANTONIO GOT the first phone message from his wife, he ignored it.
And the second, third and fourth.
For the last three days, he’d been struggling in the boardroom of CrossWorld’s New York office, dealing with his team of lawyers. Lauren, his new executive assistant in the New York office, hadn’t done the prep work as thoroughly as Hana would have. Nor did she have the same charm.
But no one was as good as Hana. On top of all his wife’s skills with language, logistics and the airline business in general, she’d also worked side by side with Antonio for years, and knew how to manage him almost as well as she could manage the labor union.
The negotiations hadn’t gone at all well without her. Antonio had been off his game. He didn’t know why. Maybe because he hadn’t slept well alone in the luxury New York hotel suite. The bed felt empty.
So when he saw, on the third day as he’d come out of yet another fruitless, combative meeting, that Hana had left him yet another message, he’d just gritted his teeth and ignored it. He didn’t need her at his company. He could do very well without her.
Especially if she was calling to gloat over his failure.
He glanced at his watch. He was late for a 9:00 p.m. dinner with Horace Lund. He’d think of Hana later.
I love you. He heard her voice. Remembered the pain in her eyes when he hadn’t responded as she’d hoped he might.
No. Antonio couldn’t bend. If he did, he was afraid he’d break.
Over appetizers in the elegant midtown restaurant, after Horace Lund toasted his gratitude for Antonio’s loan, the older man spoke cheerfully about his business’s potential. But by the man’s third bourbon, he became morose. As he ate his fettuccine, he spoke about his recent divorce. By dessert, he was nearly crying over his cannoli.
“My wife always complained I didn’t spend enough time with her,” the older man choked out. “So last week, she said I should be happy she was divorcing me, because now I can work every single minute without guilt, just as I wanted...” And on and on.
Antonio, who’d indulged in only one glass of scotch, tried not to roll his eyes as he sipped bitter black coffee for dessert. He despised the man’s tearful regret. If Lund didn’t want this to happen, he never should have let himself love his wife. Why else was Antonio avoiding Hana? Even in spite of the unfortunate impact on his company.
The negotiations had gone badly
again today, and the head of the employees’ union had asked point-blank for Hana. “She, at least, knows what the employees are up against.” Antonio had responded coldly, “You’re up against me.” And before he knew what was happening, the other man was stomping out of the meeting. Antonio ground his teeth.
“Now she’s fallen for some yoga instructor,” Lund moaned, as he stuffed cannoli into his mouth. “He doesn’t have a penny but she doesn’t care...”
Antonio regretted yet again that he’d ever agreed to meet the man for dinner. He coughed, then said tersely, “Pull yourself together. She’s gone. It’s time to move on. You have a company to reorganize.”
“Yes.” Lund brightened, then his lip began to wobble again. “Patricia helped me start it. It’s not the same without her...”
Antonio was contemplating the possibility of flinging himself out the Italian restaurant’s large glass window to get away from the man’s whining when he heard his phone ping. Relieved for the distraction, he glanced at it. A message from Hana flashed across the screen.
I spoke with your mother. I know everything. You should come home.
Antonio jumped to his feet. His whole body was suddenly shaking. “I have to go,” he said hoarsely, and tossed money on the table before he fled beneath the man’s astonished eyes.
Getting into his Rolls-Royce waiting outside, Antonio was on the phone before his driver even pulled from the curb, contacting his new secretary. “Cancel tomorrow’s meetings with the union.”
“What?” Lauren’s young voice was shocked. “Are you—are you sure, sir?”
He knew the question she’d nearly blurted out was, Are you crazy? A man messed with the union at his peril. But everything that had seemed so important suddenly meant nothing, compared to the acid hissing through his soul, searing everything in its path. “Have the jet waiting for me at Teterboro.”
By the time his plane touched down in gray, rainy Madrid, it was early afternoon. Far from sleeping on the flight, he’d paced the aisle of his Gulfstream jet, his body so tight, his muscles hurt. As his driver took him to the palacio, through the city’s crowded, lively streets in the autumn drizzle, Antonio looked out the window with a churning feeling in his belly.
What had Hana learned? The horrible thing that had made him a monster from the day he was born?