Behind Her Smile

by Luck, Olivia

  “Thank you, Miranda. This looks wonderful.” I scoot up in my seat to smile gratefully at her. Acknowledging Miranda and Carlo with verbal appreciation is a small defiance against my orders David gave deeming it unnecessary to acknowledge them, but I refuse to be unkind and dismissive.

  “You’re very welcome. Let me know if you need anything else.” The wrinkles in Miranda’s soft cheeks become more pronounced when she returns my smile and then she departs.

  Curling around the chair, I adjust the back to its full height. I cross my legs and put my sunglasses on to shield my eyes while I eat.

  “What pleasure a simple meal can bring.” The voice rolls down my skin hypnotically, and I jerk in surprise. My free hand flies to my chest, willing my galloping heart to slow. My head snaps up, and I find Alec Christos casting shade over my chair. As always, he’s wearing a pair of expensive gray slacks and a white shirt with the shirtsleeves rolled up displaying a large, black-faced watch.

  “You startled me.” Not in the mood for mysteries, I ignore his comment. “David’s at the office. If you want to talk to him, you should have gone there.” I blame my rudeness on Alec. He appears when I least expect him, always pushing my boundaries until I’m uncomfortable.

  “That’s good because I didn’t come here to see David.” Alec sits right next to my crossed legs. No respect for any boundaries he may cross by sitting this close. Despite the cloudless day, he’s not wearing sunglasses. The normally impassive man studies me with open curiosity.

  “You talk in riddles,” I accuse.

  “Really? I thought I was being obvious. Karolina, I came here to see you.” Even though he’s not touching me, I feel Alec everywhere. My skin prickles with awareness. My mouth goes dry. My hands start fiddling, something I never do otherwise. This visceral reaction unsettles me. This man unsettles me. I’m drawn to him and want to run from him at the same time.

  “What could you possibly want with me?”

  Slowly—oh, so slowly—Alec lifts his hand to my face. Damn my heart for seizing when I think he’s going to touch my cheek. Instead, he gently removes my sunglasses. “That’s better,” he murmurs. The way he looks at me makes me think he can see deep into my soul.

  This man is not your husband, the voice of reason reminds me furiously. I can’t help myself. Something in Alec sparks my curiosity. He continues to show up at the most unusual times, and when he’s near me, he actually wants to talk to me. Not the polite banter of a society event. No, he’s looking for a real conversation. The longer I’ve been married to David, the less I find myself having genuine interaction with people. I can’t remember the last time I had a conversation with someone who wanted to hear my real, unfiltered opinions. I can’t help but perk up when Alec’s around me. Yes, he’s undeniably handsome, but there’s more than that. Past the physical attraction and underneath his hooded eyes and teasing smirks, I see a potential friend.

  Unsurprisingly, Alec doesn’t answer my question. The man screams power and control. I doubt he ever lets anyone take the lead in a conversation or otherwise. “I was disappointed to learn you haven’t finished your degree,” he says, a frown forming between his dark brows.

  “How do you know that?” I don’t give him the same bogus line I told Dora about going to school one day. Every day, that dream slips further and further from my reach.

  “Information is extremely valuable. I make it my business to obtain it.” His gaze doesn’t waver as he leans closer. Still, he hasn’t touched me, but I feel like he’s the hunter and I’m the prey caught in his net. “Especially when the information is about someone as lovely as you.”

  And that’s when I realize he’s toying with me. Again. Anger builds in my chest. Why do I let him get to me? “You have some nerve to come here and treat me this way. I’m a married woman, Alec. Do I need to remind you that my husband is one of your friends?”

  “No need for the reminder.” Alec’s gaze hardens. “But you should know that David and I have never been friends, as you say. We’re business acquaintances, yes, but other than that, he’s nothing to me.”

  “Why doesn’t that surprise me,” I mutter. “It must be impossible to get close to you what with the mysterious façade you wear like armor.”

  It’s the first time I’ve heard him laugh. Everything he does is sexy. How is that possible? The husky sound has me looking away, frantic for anything to distract me from the forbidden attraction I feel toward this man.

  “You got me there, Karolina.”

  “What line of business are you in?” I blurt, wanting to know him better.

  “I won’t taint your sweetness with that information.” He’s grinning now as if I amuse him.

  “Enough with the twisted words.” I don’t know where my ferocity comes from, but I don’t try to smother it. “These games are getting old. Tell me what you want from me and then let’s move on. Every time you chat me up without David around, you’re putting me in an uncomfortable position with my husband.”

  All humor fades away from his expression. “That’s not my intention, Karolina.” Then he frowns. Deeply. Seeing his unhappiness does something to me—I don’t want to upset anyone, even if Alec does confound me at times. “That’s not entirely true. At first, I’ll admit I sought you out because I enjoyed watching David squirm. But after two minutes with you, I realized it was more than that. I enjoy your company. Unlike the majority of people I spend time with, you don’t want something from me. In fact, whenever you’re not verbally sparring, you push me away. That’s a hell of a turn-on for a man like me.”

  “I’m not trying to turn you on at all!” I say immediately. “I’m married and not some pawn that you can use against my husband. What don’t you understand about that?”

  Alec’s jaw locks with tension. “I may have visited you on your first wedding night with impure intentions, but I see now you’re more than just a beautiful woman David picked to marry. You have spirit and intelligence. After seeing you get married twice, I understand completely that you are off-limits. The reason I continue to seek out your company is that I think we have a lot in common.”

  An emotion I don’t dare to name clogs my throat. Spirit and intelligence? Those might be the kindest words anyone has ever used to describe me. “What could we possibly have in common?” I mean to ask him this with disbelief, but Alec hears something else in my tone. Apparently, my reaction displeases him. I have no malice. I’m stunned to think he sees me this way.

  Alec assesses me through cool eyes. “Poverty. Ambition. Fortitude. Is that enough for you?” More descriptions I cannot fathom. How could he possibly know I was raised in poverty? And those other things—it’s as if he read my life story. For some reason, he wants to talk about the person my own husband pretends never existed.

  My entire body quivers. A torrent of raw, blistering pain slashes through me. All of a sudden, I want to cry.

  I’m so lonely.

  Being inundated with work in the absence of his brother and father, David is hardly around. And when he is at home, he is more irritable than I realized. Then there are all the society events—none of those women want to be my friend. More like my rivals to have the latest fashion and most expensive jewelry. I haven’t spoken to Dora in months. I feel like I’m losing control of my life.

  Alec rises to his feet and fear rushes through me. Don’t go! I want to grab his hand and beg him to stay and tell me all the stories that made him in to the man standing before me.

  “I . . . I don’t know what to say.”

  Alec shoves his hands into his pockets. He displays his strong profile when he gazes off toward the rolling mansion on the opposite side of the Coral Gables waterway. “Don’t say anything. You’re right. I shouldn’t be here.”

  This time, I find the nerve to act. Before he can stride off into parts unknown, I jump to my feet and grab his wrist. I feel it then. A connection between us that is strong enough to make me yank my hand back in stunned silence. Alec twists his neck
to look down at me, his lips pressed together in a firm line.

  Whatever I want to confess—whatever I want to ask dies on the tip of my tongue. Staring at the man I once thought to be the devil, I realize the truth. Alec is a mortal just as I am, flaws and all.

  “I’m sorry.” I whisper the words to his throat. The words are to both of us.

  “You owe me nothing, least of all an apology,” Alec scoffs. Then he stalks across the stone patio without a glance back. Limply, I collapse into the lounge chair unsure of what just happened.

  If David found out about this . . . I shudder to think what my husband would do if he knew Alec came by and saw me in a bikini, no less. Despite my state of undress, Alec didn’t ogle or lick his lips as if I was something to sate his appetite.

  Alec Christos saw me.

  I don’t know if I’ll ever be the same.

  “How are your remarks coming along?”

  Even though it’s just the two of us for dinner, Miranda still makes David and me a three-course meal. On Fridays, she and I spend time creating the next week’s menu based on David’s and my schedule. Sometime over the weekend, David approves the menu or sends revisions. That way there are no unfortunate surprises, he explained to me at one time. All meals must be low in sugar, sodium, and of course, free of preservatives or those pesky GMOs. Gone are the days of junk food for me. I’ve never felt or looked better—physically—but I miss McDonald’s fries and milkshakes.

  Once I ask David the question, I delicately bite a piece of the sockeye salmon, making sure to chew daintily.

  “Finished. After we eat, we’ll review the timeline for tomorrow evening, and I’ll read you the speech.”

  How did we wind up here? I have the sudden urge to drop my cutlery in a childish clatter on the fine china. I want to grab David by the shoulders and shake him. It seems like our wedding was ten years ago, not one. The loving, devoted David who swept me off my feet has left me. We are more strangers than lovers though David’s sex drive has not abated in the time we’ve been married. I miss the romance and dates to gallery openings. The only time we’ll attend now is if a potential client hosts the event.

  Despite spending the majority of my time surrounded by women, I don’t have anyone in whom to confide. There’s no one to ask about the ups and downs of marriage. Is the distance between David and me normal? I desperately want to seek advice from someone—anyone.

  “Wonderful,” I answer him with a stiff smile. Oddly enough, he returns the gesture with one of his own. Smiles are a rarity from my husband these days, and I’m inspired to open up to him. “David, there’s something I wanted to ask you about.”

  “Yes?” He sets his fork and knife at an angle across the top right corner of his plate. Moments later, Miranda silently appears at his side to remove the dish.

  “Lately, I’ve been missing designing.” Lately is a gross understatement. But if I were to tell him that the lifestyle he wants me to lead nearly drives me to tears with boredom, it will hurt his feelings. I’ve learned the importance of treading delicately with David’s emotions. “My creative muscles are dying to work out. I was wondering if you would be opposed to me taking it up again.”

  His bow-shaped mouth turns down in a slight frown. I recognize this as his thinking face. Pondering my request, David leans back in his chair. “Once the gala is over, you will have more free time on your hands,” he muses.

  Holding my breath, I nod in silent agreement. I’m trying to downplay the importance of my request, but I want this terribly. Fashion design is an emotional outlet for me.

  Finally, David continues. “I don’t see anything wrong with your little hobby, so long as you don’t let it interfere with your duties to the family and our business.”

  “Absolutely not,” I hastily chime in, trying not to bristle over the ‘little hobby’ description. It sounds dangerously close to something my mother would have said. Back when we were still communicating.

  “All right then. You can use the easternmost guest room on the second floor for your studio, though I expect it to be kept tidy at all times.” The command is clear, but it doesn’t halt my blooming excitement.

  “Oh, thank you, David!” I cry. Pushing my chair back, I close the gap of space between us and throw my arms around his neck. With a smacking kiss on his cheek, I sigh contentedly. “This means the world to me.”

  My husband’s body goes rigid.

  “Do I not give you the world?” There’s an edge to his voice. The unmistakable tell that indicates his anger. David reaches up and around his neck to clamp my wrists in his hands. He pushes me back a step. Panic starts to eat at me. I didn’t want to upset him with this request. Somehow, I’ve turned his good mood into anger. Why do I always do this?

  I rush to calm him. “No, no. You give me everything I could possibly want or need. It’s just . . . I love working with my hands and designing things.”

  With a muffled groan against the marble floor, his chair flies backward. One hand still clutches my wrist in a manacle-like grip. “We’re finished eating,” he says shortly. He strides toward his office, my shorter legs working double time to keep pace with him.

  Inside the room I’m only allowed to enter if he approves, David releases me and slams the door shut.

  One.

  Two.

  Three breaths later, his fingers wrap around the column of my neck. He backs me up against the wall. The grip isn’t tight enough to leave a bruise, only strong enough to keep me in place. And scare me till my blood runs cold.

  He leans in close enough that I’m able to smell the stale scent of salmon on his breath each time he exhales. I want to flinch away, but from experience, I know it will only make him angrier. This isn’t the first time David’s grabbed me this way. What’s most frightening is that his aggression does not surprise me. The numbness has taken the place of shock, and only fear remains. How long will it last this time? Will I be able to hide the physical remnants?

  “All of this can be taken away, Karolina.” Thud. He jerks my body and my head lands against the wall with a dull noise. His grip tightens, making it harder to breathe. My heart gallops in my chest. “Now apologize.”

  “I’m sorry,” I croak.

  “Damn right,” he growls. The moment he releases me, I wobble. I’m off balance, and I topple down on my knees. He won’t hurt you badly. The gala is tomorrow, and if you have marks, people will ask questions. “Do you have any idea how many women would kill to be my wife? I could replace you in an instant. Is that what you want, Karolina?”

  Hot, fat teardrops escape the corners of my eyes. Yes! That’s what I want. I want to be free of you. All of a sudden, I’m on the ground. With one vicious kick to my ribs, the air is sucked from my lungs, and I gasp for breath.

  Then David’s next to me, a fist wrapped around my hair to yank my head up and force my gaze to him. “There’s only one way out of this, Karolina. Don’t make me do it.”

  Each breath comes in a fitful gasp. My heart jerks so wildly in my chest I wonder if I’m going to have a heart attack. Does he mean he wants to kill me? No. No.

  No.

  “I love you, David.” The words come out in as a wheeze. An attempt for freedom.

  Instantly, he releases my hair. One hand slips beneath the back of my knees and the other curls around my shoulders. He lifts me effortlessly in his arms and steers me to the couch, placing me carefully in his lap.

  “Don’t make me angry, my jewel. Don’t make me punish you when you take me for granted. I want to spoil and adore you, but you make it impossible when you talk back to me.”

  I cannot help myself from sobbing against his chest. My tormentor is my caregiver. It doesn’t make any sense. But I’m terrified, and if he’s offering comfort, I’ll take it. David nestles me into his arms, tenderly stroking the hair he nearly ripped out of my scalp. “It’s all right, my jewel. I forgive you. After the gala, we’ll get started on your little studio.”

  The sobs melt i
nto whimpers, and I nod against the warm spot where his neck and his chest meet, begging for the comfort.

  “Thank you.”

  “That’s my good girl,” he soothes.

  Blindly, I burrow deeper against him. Yes, I know this is beyond fucked-up. I should be running for the nearest glimpse of safety. But who would believe me? David is the image of the doting husband, and I am his beloved wife. No one would dare to think he hurts me. And most of the time, he ignores me. It’s not so bad. All of my needs are met and more.

  And yet, each day seems like it's one step closer to my inevitable destruction.

  The makeup artist doesn’t mention the faint purple fingerprints ringing my neck. Neither does the hairdresser or the event planner who popped by the house in the morning to discuss the last-minute details of the gala. Maybe all the Morgan wealth and prestige keep people quiet. Whatever the reason, no one dared to ask about the marks on my skin or the way I favored my left side because of the smarting pain on my right row of ribs.

  Staring at myself in the full-length mirror, I hardly recognize the woman reflected back. Do I exist? More and more, I wonder if I’m losing my identity to Mrs. Morgan, an impossible goal to obtain. The ostentatious engagement ring and wedding bands weigh my hand down as if an anchor, securing me to the Morgan name.

  “You look exquisite.” David appears behind me, his gaze roving along the length of my body hungrily. “Close your eyes,” he demands.

  Obediently, I shut them. Something cinches around my neck, and my eyes pop open instantly in fear. A lush diamond choker sparkles underneath the recessed lights. Glancing at David through the reflection in the mirror, I only find a pleased smile lighting his face. “Perfect,” he murmurs more to himself than me.

  Not perfect, I correct silently. I’m learning the less I voice my opinions, the less likely I am to enrage David. But I know the truth. If David hadn’t been aggressive last night, there would be no need for the lavish jewelry. He splays one hand across the silk crepe, and he gently tugs my back against his front. His lips are close to my ear when he speaks. I shiver, though. Instead of the reaction being one of pleasure, it’s a hangover from the fear I felt last night at David’s disposal.