Plain Return (The Plain Fame Series Book 4)

by Price, Sarah

  The photograph showed Alejandro, his forehead pressed against hers as he held her by the waist. Her eyes were shut, and the expression on her face did not show her true emotions. Although she had felt joy when he appeared and surprised her that day, in the photo she looked crestfallen. Whether due to the timing of the photograph or the angle at which the photographer had taken it, the photo seemed to portray something very different from what had occurred.

  Even worse, the background of the photo was not the white backdrop that had been behind her at the photo shoot. No, this photograph made it look as though they were standing in her dressing room backstage at the Rio arena.

  The headline read “Viper Breaks News of Secret Love Child to Amanda.”

  What her eyes saw, her brain could not comprehend. How was it possible that such a photograph existed, for certainly such a thing had never happened?

  Stunned, she began to read the article. With each sentence, her heart began to pound faster and a rage built up, for everything that she read was a lie. How was it possible that a magazine could print an article that was made up one hundred percent of fabricated deceptions?

  “Geoffrey!”

  She spun around just as he looked at her, and then jumped to her feet.

  “What is this about?” she demanded, holding out the magazine for him to take.

  His eyes barely skimmed the article, and she knew at once that it was not the first time he had seen it. And if Geoffrey had already read it, certainly Alejandro had, too.

  “It’s a tabloid, Amanda,” he said calmly as he handed it back to her.

  “It’s all lies,” she retorted. “Alejandro didn’t tell me about it in the dressing room. Besides, who would have access to this information?” She glanced down at the magazine. “To this photo?” she asked, specifically pointing to the one of her holding Isadora. “And the larger photo is fake! Why, this whole article is fake!” In disgust, she flung the magazine to the ground. “Why the magazines find any of this fascinating is beyond me,” she mumbled. She couldn’t sit anymore; her nerves made her jumpy and her thoughts were like flames licking away at her self-control. Standing up, she smoothed down the front of the dress, the strands of red crystal beads and sequins glistening under the lights behind the set.

  “They just print what people buy, Amanda.”

  She did not like arguing with anyone; it made her feel empty inside as if part of her deflated and the emptiness filled her with negative energy. “Well, I’d like to know where they got that photo! It wasn’t even taken here, Geoffrey. It was taken in Miami and . . . fixed or whatever it is they do to photos!” She began to pace, trying to shake off feelings of hurt and anger. “How would they have gotten that photo?”

  He remained silent and glanced down at his watch.

  “And that other photo? The one of Isadora and me? Who took that?” She stopped pacing and put her hand on her hip, facing Geoffrey. “That was at the country house, Geoffrey. The media didn’t have access to the property. I want to know who took it! And why they sold it to these horrible magazine people!”

  “Amanda . . .”

  “They must be held accountable for spreading stolen photos and hateful lies.”

  He reached to grab her arm, and she abruptly stopped walking. “Don’t pursue that, Amanda. You won’t like what you find out.”

  “What are you saying?” She pulled her arm free and shifted away from him. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  Just then, a stagehand ran over to Geoffrey and interrupted them, frustrating her further. Geoffrey gave a slight shake of his head. “I’ll be right there,” he said to the man. Turning back to Amanda, he apologized for having to leave her. “Security will help you get up to the top of the stairs, Amanda. I have to go attend to a different matter. Forgive me.” Without waiting for a response, he hurried in the direction in which the other man had disappeared.

  As the concert continued and the audience responded to Viper, Amanda returned to the chair and sat in it, her eyes roaming over the partially open magazine on the floor. Curiosity got the best of her, and she leaned over to retrieve it again. She took more time to read the article and even flipped the page. Then she caught her breath. There was a photo of Alejandro surrounded by beautiful women; in it, he was looking at one of them with deep emotion in his eyes. The article implied that he had known about the child and that he had married Amanda so that she would tend to the illegitimate daughter while he partied with socialites in Rio.

  Have faith, she told herself and shut her eyes to pray:

  Dear Lord, please give me your strength to withhold judgment and provide understanding to my husband during these trying days. Please place your hand upon his head and bless my husband with your love and wisdom. We are both in need of your guidance to navigate these unknown waters. Amen.

  Almost thirty minutes passed before she heard the music that indicated she should start preparing for her ascent up the stairs. Only one security guard came over to assist her, and since he was Argentinean and spoke no English, Amanda didn’t try to engage him in a conversation.

  Shake it off, she told herself. Her anger and frustration needed to be compartmentalized, pushed away while she was in front of the fans. After all, they had paid to see a music concert, not to witness a meltdown by Viper’s wife.

  Taking deep breaths, she waited until the song ended and the lights flashed before the arena was covered in darkness. Only then did she slip through the curtain and stand at the top of the stairs, waiting to descend.

  The bright spotlights moved to highlight where she stood, and Amanda lifted her arm in the air in response to the wild cheers from the audience. This time, however, she didn’t exaggerate her steps nor did she try to promote playfulness with Alejandro when he met her at the bottom of the staircase.

  He took her hand in his and squeezed it, just enough to catch her attention. Their eyes met, and she saw a reflection of herself in him. She realized that they both felt frustrations and irritations: Alejandro with the unexpected way Isadora had popped into their lives, unintentionally separating them. Amanda knew that her eyes told a similar story, though in her case, she wanted to be home, getting Isadora situated. Even though the little girl was genetically another woman’s child, Amanda felt a strong attachment to her. She hesitated to call it love, although she suspected that she was indeed falling in love with Isadora.

  Alejandro must have been surprised to see his own dark, moody emotions echoing back at him. Certainly, it was not something that he was used to seeing.

  He lifted his arm and started dancing with her. But this time, the movements that were usually playful and light were danced with much more force and drama. At first Amanda stumbled, not expecting the deviation in tempo to his steps. But it only took her a few seconds to catch on that it was his emotions that were driving the dance, instead of the opposite. She followed his lead and when she turned from him, she walked down the stage, waiting for him to come after her and pull her back into his arms. He spun her around, and she looked away when she’d finished the turn, instead of gazing up at him. The next time he spun her, he took the initiative to push her away. Angrily, she stomped her foot and glared at him. When he came toward her for the end of the song, she placed her hand on his chest and pushed him away before removing herself from the stage.

  The crowd applauded and cheered, thinking the angry dance moves were choreographed.

  Despite the crowd chanting her name, Amanda stormed to her dressing room and locked the door behind her. Only when she was ensured of privacy did she release her emotions, allowing herself to cry, her hands covering her face. If she had suspected it before, she now knew that she was not strong enough to carry both of them. Living under the microscope of public scrutiny and media approval was harder than she had imagined. She wished she was secure enough in who she was as a person and as his wife to adapt to Alejandro’s constant emot
ional needs, which conflicted so sharply with the melodramatic desires of Viper.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “We need to talk,” Amanda said.

  Five o’clock in the morning. That was the time on the clock when the door to their hotel suite opened and Alejandro entered. He was dressed in white slacks and a black shirt, both wrinkled and reeking of alcohol and smoke. His sunglasses dangled from the front of his shirt and his hair hung over the front of his forehead, casting a shadow over the left side of his face.

  Amanda stood in the center of the room, dressed in a navy linen skirt and a light, airy, white-and-navy pin-striped shirt. She was ready for the day—and for the confrontation with Alejandro that she knew lay ahead of her.

  When he hadn’t shown up at the hotel after the show, she’d known that he wouldn’t return until close to dawn. With Enrique Lopez staying in the same hotel and making guest appearances during Viper’s concerts, Amanda hadn’t needed to ask where Alejandro had been. She spent the better part of three hours trying to sleep, but couldn’t do so. She tossed and turned, her mind reeling with thoughts about what she knew needed to be done. Finally, at four o’clock, she had arisen from the bed and showered, then had gotten dressed and prepared herself for what she knew would be a long morning.

  Now, Alejandro stood before her, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep as well as too much time spent with Enrique. “Ay, Amanda,” he said. “You know I was out with Enrique.”

  She nodded. “Ja, ja I do.”

  He started to unbutton his shirt. “Then can we discuss this later? I need to sleep a few hours.” He walked toward the bedroom door.

  “I’m leaving,” she said as he walked past her. She turned and stared at his back. Her heart felt as if it were racing and her skin tingled, each nerve on fire. “Did you hear me, Alejandro? I’m leaving Buenos Aires.”

  “Excuse me?” His hand was on the doorknob, but he didn’t turn it. He remained in that position, waiting for her to repeat herself. When she didn’t, he dropped his hand and turned to face her. “What is this about? My firing Stedman?”

  Her breath caught in her throat. “You fired Stedman?” This news only made matters worse. After all of those weeks fighting with Stedman during their practices in Miami, she had actually begun to appreciate him and his quirky ways. “What on earth for, Alejandro?”

  “You were right about him,” he said casually.

  “Oh, Alejandro,” she said, her voice sad. She knew what had happened and blamed only herself. Hadn’t Dali tried to warn her? “Tell me that you didn’t fire him because of me. That’s not fair.”

  He thrust his hands into his front pockets and lifted his chin in defiance. “He was becoming too close to one of my investments,” he replied.

  “‘Investments’?”

  Remaining defiant, he stood there and stared at her without speaking.

  “I’ve told you before that I’m not one of your possessions, Alejandro. And we have a responsibility to that little girl sleeping in the other room. This is not a life for her, and it’s certainly putting a strain on us.” She wanted him to say something . . . anything. But he remained silent. “I’m going home, Alejandro, with Isadora.”

  The cold expression on his face frightened her. He looked at her, emotionless, as if he’d barely heard a word that she said.

  “Don’t you want to say something, Alejandro?”

  “You are not leaving.”

  She nodded. “Yes, yes I am. And I’m taking Isadora. She needs stability and routine.” Pursing her lips, she lifted her hand and placed it over her own chest. “I need stability and routine. Maybe Europe will be different, but I do not care for these South American women.”

  He lifted his eyebrow at her words.

  “I need to go home. This pace that you keep . . .” She shook her head. “It’s insane, Alejandro, how you just keep going and going. I can’t keep up with you. I’m turning into a person that I don’t care for. I want to go home and get away from these people with their cameras and lies and skimpy outfits and immoral desires.”

  She thought she saw the corner of his mouth twitch, which added to her irritation.

  “Besides,” she added, “my brand image is not this world. I’m your Amish farm girl, ja? Your Amish farm girl cannot adapt to this new world of touring with Viper.” She glanced at the open magazine on the table. She had brought it back to the hotel with her and left it open for him to see. “My leaving will just feed the beast, anyway. The media will love to write more trash and lies about what my leaving signifies, and, of course, the fans will devour that news and Viper’s image will soar.”

  “Amanda . . .”

  She pointed to the magazine. “How did they get that photo, Alejandro? Both photos!”

  He held his hands up in front of himself as if to ward off an attack. “We had to break the story, Amanda.”

  “We?” Her eyes traveled to the magazine. She felt drawn toward it and crossed the room, her fingers reaching out to touch the inset box with the photo of her carrying Isadora. Tracing the image, she stared at it as she realized what Alejandro had just admitted to her. “You authorized someone to release this photo?”

  “It was a controlled burn, Amanda.”

  Controlled burn? She knew what that meant, but she didn’t really feel as if their private lives needed to be aired in such a manner.

  “Controlled, ja?” She pointed to the other photo. “What’s the story behind this one, then? I remember when this photo was taken. And I can assure you that it was not last weekend and not in my dressing room.”

  “Ay, Amanda,” he said. “It’s just a story.”

  “It’s a lie.”

  He shrugged, clearly not concerned with the article. “A story to feed the curious.”

  She shoved the magazine away from her. “Our lives are more than just a story, Alejandro. We need to live them in reality, not in their fantasy.”

  He ran his fingers through his hair and mumbled something in Spanish.

  “Don’t do that.”

  “Amanda, this is our lives,” he snapped back at her. “Our reality is their fantasy. When are you going to realize that?”

  She didn’t agree. Living her life for the media, allowing them to take such liberties with her privacy, and now learning that her own husband had permitted his inner circle to leak private photos? “And this is how you want to raise your daughter?”

  “I didn’t want to raise my daughter!” he shouted. “If I had, don’t you think I would have been involved from the beginning?”

  She gasped at his words. Covering her mouth with her hand, she took a step backward. “You don’t mean that,” she whispered.

  “Ay, Amanda.” He shook his head. “You know what I mean.”

  But she didn’t. Did he feel nothing for Isadora, despite having accepted responsibility for her? Didn’t he see how special she was? His words stung, and she knew in that moment that she had made the right decision.

  “I don’t know what you mean anymore,” she said.

  “You are just upset, Amanda,” he finally said, breaking the silence. “Emotional over not being pregnant.”

  “That’s not it, Alejandro,” she said, although she wasn’t certain that there wasn’t a glimmer of truth to what he said. She did feel emotional and worried about, once again, not being pregnant. That was not the root of the problem, however.

  “You told me earlier, no?” He stared at her with the same void expression. “But you have your hija now. You should be happy, not upset.”

  The coldness with which he spoke hurt more than his words did. Did he actually presume that Isadora’s presence eliminated her desire to have a child with him? While she was learning to love Isadora, that didn’t mean that she no longer wanted a baby.

  “You don’t mean that,” she said slowly, trying to swallow her pain. “Chi
ldren are not interchangeable. And loving one does not mean you cannot love another.”

  He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “Sí, sí, I know. That’s not what I meant. Look, it’s late . . .”

  “Or early,” she said, interrupting him.

  “I need to sleep, Amanda. Come to bed,” he said. “You will feel better later.”

  But she knew that she wouldn’t. “What I do know is that taking her home is the right thing to do. She needs to be surrounded by love, not resentment.”

  He stepped toward her and reached out to touch her arm. “Don’t be like that, Princesa.”

  But she moved away from him.

  “If she has you,” he said, “she has love.”

  Amanda felt a tightness in her throat. She told herself that he didn’t know what he was saying, that his words were not expressing what he truly wanted to communicate. For if he did, he would not insinuate that her love was enough for Isadora. After all, wasn’t it Alejandro who had announced to the world on New Year’s Eve that he wanted to start a family? Wasn’t it Alejandro who had declared his love for her over and over again? What would happen if they did have a baby? Would he be capable of loving the child or would he turn his back on it, too? Was he only capable of loving one person with all of his heart?

  “Finish the tour, Alejandro,” she said softly. “Focus on the tour now, and we can focus on us afterward.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You are not leaving,” he said one more time.

  “Don’t do this to me,” she said, tears beginning to well up. “Please, Alejandro. I just can’t . . .”

  “Neither can I.” He closed the space between them. “I need you with me. You know that.” Despite her protests, he wrapped his arms around her. “I can’t do this without knowing you are here . . . with me.”

  She lost the fight to hold back her tears. A sob escaped her throat, and she clung to him. She just felt so tired. Her body ached from the reality of Alejandro’s travel schedule, and her heart ached from the fantasy of Viper’s busy life. Now that there was also the added responsibility of Isadora, she had a choice to make. She had wondered before about the reasons behind God’s plans for her, but she at least knew what he wanted her to do now. Everything in the past year . . . everything since Aaron’s death . . . had led up to this moment. A responsibility and a choice.