by Sarah Price
Taking ahold of her arm, he led her across the room and pulled out a chair for her to sit. She felt uncomfortable with the two servers standing there, watching them. But Alejandro appeared oblivious, not even noticing them standing in the background. After she sat down, he took his place next to her at the head of the table. “It’s practically a home-cooked meal, no?”
At the same time, the two men approached the table and simultaneously lifted the silver domes. The large white plates underneath were covered with huge red lobsters that were still steaming from being cooked.
“Alejandro!” she gasped and stared at him with wide eyes.
“¿Sí?”
“Lobster?”
He tapped his chin with his finger as if deep in thought. “I seem to recall a young lady who was rather smitten with lobster in New York City and Philadelphia not so long ago.”
She burst out laughing at the expression on his face. “You are too much!”
Plucking the linen napkin off the table, he snapped it by his side and laid it across his lap. “You think so?”
She shook her head, still smiling as her eyes danced. “Oh ja, I know so!”
He reached across the table and took her hand, holding it for a moment as he stared at her. There was something about his expression, something deep and thoughtful. She felt her heart skip a beat as his fingers entwined with hers. “I would give you this every night,” he said softly, his eyes studying her face. “It’s yours for the asking.”
Her mouth opened, just slightly. She wanted to say something. But no words came out. Instead, she chewed on her lower lip and gently withdrew her hand from his. Delicately, she reached for her own napkin and placed it across her lap, never breaking his gaze. “I would never ask anything of you,” she whispered.
One eyebrow arched, and he nodded his head, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “And that, mi amor, is exactly why I would give it to you.” Then, taking a quick breath, he pursed his lips and glanced at the plates before them. “For now, I suggest that we get started on these wonderful lobsters. Do you need help opening the claws?”
It amazed her how he could switch like that. One moment, his sultry eyes and soft, gentle voice caused her heart to palpitate and her blood to race through her veins. Yet, just as suddenly, he could turn it off. The only problem was that she couldn’t. She felt her heart still racing and knew that her cheeks were flushed. Instead of answering him, she nodded her head and let him reach for her plate.
She watched him crack open the claws, and with a mischievous gleam in his eye, he dipped the meat into the butter and held it out for her. When she reached for it, he tsk-tsked and shook his head. “Remember New York?” he said, a playful tone in his voice. “Shut your eyes, and I shall feed you, Princesa.”
“Alejandro . . .” she started to say, but the impish smile on his face stopped her from continuing. Trying to calm her nerves, she did as he commanded, closing her eyes and waiting.
“Now open your mouth, Princesa,” he said, his voice husky and deep, an obvious edge to it.
She wanted to argue, to stand her ground. But she remembered, too well, how she had felt in New York City. It seemed as if it had been so long ago instead of just a few short months. She remembered how her world had collapsed when he left. How much life had changed as she sat in the Skylofts, the candles flickering, the music playing, and Alejandro waiting for her to accept his gift.
She opened her mouth and felt him place the lobster on the tip of her tongue. The decadent taste of the lobster heightened her senses. It didn’t help that he watched her until she finally swallowed.
“It’s good, sí?” The words came out like a breath of air, and immediately she opened her eyes. He was watching her, his eyes glowing with excitement.
“I . . . I don’t know what to say,” she whispered. “This is all too much.”
“Nonsense.” He dismissed her with a casual wave of his hand. “This is nothing.”
“That’s not what I meant,” she replied. “I feel . . .” She couldn’t finish the sentence.
“You feel what, Princesa?”
“Overwhelmed,” she admitted. “Everything that is happening is so different, so over the top, so . . . busy and fast.”
He shrugged. “I live a fast life, Amanda.” Lifting up the lobster claw, he snapped it in half. “But you knew that, didn’t you?”
“I never imagined . . .”
He stopped her in midsentence. “How could you have imagined? But the amazing thing is, Amanda, that you are adapting quite well and I think that is what, deep down, bothers you.” He shut his eyes as he ate a piece of the claw meat. “¡Ay, qué rica!”
“I think I should say good night,” she said and started to stand up.
He frowned. “You are upset?”
“Tired,” she lied, knowing that God would forgive her this one little lie.
Chapter Nine
When the limousine pulled up in front of the building in Los Angeles, Amanda peered out the window and gasped. The path from the car to the front doors of the all-glass building was lined with a wide red carpet. Both sides of the carpet were roped off with thick gold cords supported by copper posts, and behind them stood crowds with cameras already flashing at the couple’s arrival.
Security people wearing black suits lined the carpet for crowd control, and a man wearing a tuxedo and white gloves opened the door to the limousine.
Alejandro looked at Amanda and gave her an encouraging smile before he slid on his sunglasses and stepped out of the car. The people roared and flashes of lights twinkled randomly from the crowd. He straightened his suit jacket and waved to the people. Then, to their delight, he held up his finger as if indicating for them to wait for a moment as he ducked his head back into the limousine.
“Ready, Princesa?” he asked. “This will be a fun night, I promise.”
When she placed her hand into his and slid her body on the seat toward the door so that she could step down onto the curb, she heard it. Another roar. It was as if the noise were a wave flooding the waiting fans.
Tonight, she wore a long gown that was both black and beige. The bodice was black and hugged her top, the design flowing down to her tiny waist. The bottom part of the dress was layered in a beige fabric that sparkled. But the most beautiful part was the black lace that ran from the bodice into the skirt, like branches from a weeping willow brushing down her sides.
When she had seen the dress earlier in the day, she had balked. “I can’t wear that!” she had exclaimed, horrified at the prospect of wearing something so revealing.
He had laughed at her. “Why ever not, Princesa?”
“It’s . . . it’s . . .” She hadn’t been able to find the words to express what she was feeling. No sleeves? Low cut? Sparkling fabric?
“It’s gorgeous,” he had said, finishing her sentence for her.
“Indecent,” she had snapped, pointing at the neckline. “I believe that was the word I was looking for!”
Again he had laughed, clearly amused by her reaction. “For seven thousand dollars, I hope it is not too indecent.”
“What?” she had exclaimed when she heard his declaration. She couldn’t imagine anyone spending that amount of money on a dress. It was wasteful and much too worldly. “That’s outrageous!”
And yet, she was now standing on the red carpet, her hair pulled back in her customary bun at the nape of her neck, wearing that very same indecent dress and all too aware that it showed off every curve of her figure and was, indeed, gorgeous. It was a feeling she had never felt before, and as she watched Alejandro’s eyes rove up and down her body, she blushed knowing that she was enjoying this more than she should.
With a moment of planned hesitation, Alejandro stepped aside and let the fans and paparazzi take her photograph. Flashes from the cameras temporarily blinded her, and she flinched a
s her eyes started to see black spots wherever she looked.
She heard him laugh, and he took a step toward her. He put his hand on the small of her back and leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Now you know why I always wear my sunglasses, sí?”
She looked at him and smiled at his little joke, which caused him to laugh again.
That was the photo that went viral on social media: the Amish woman in a $7,000 evening gown, smiling softly at the superstar in his black silk suit, laughing in delight at her reaction to something he had whispered.
As they walked down the red carpet toward the building, which was lit up and crowded with people, Alejandro paused in certain places to wave to the fans. Amanda would stand a step behind him, allowing his adoring fans to have their photos of Viper.
“Viper!” someone called out in a large roped-off area. “A moment of your time!”
He glanced over and lifted his chin in acknowledgment. He reached for Amanda’s hand and led her in that direction. A woman stood there with a microphone while a man behind her, with a camera on his shoulder, filmed Viper’s approach.
“You’re looking dapper as ever this evening,” the woman gushed into the microphone as she stood next to Viper.
He twitched his shoulders and smiled at her. “Gracias, Kaitlyn!” He took a step to the side and pulled Amanda closer. “Have you met Amanda yet?” The way her name rolled off his tongue sent a shiver up her spine, despite the fact that it was hot outside.
The woman turned to Amanda, her eyes wide and glowing. “You know that I haven’t, but I’m delighted to meet the young woman who has captured the hearts of America.”
Amanda blushed and averted her eyes.
Viper laughed at her modesty. “And mine,” he added, his voice teasing but seductive.
Kaitlyn raised an eyebrow and glanced into the camera. “No speculation there, Viper!” They both laughed while Amanda blushed and took a step backward. Kaitlyn quickly changed the subject, as she knew her time was limited. “You are up for a big award tonight, Viper. How are you feeling about that?”
Amanda frowned and looked at him. An award? She had known that it was an award dinner, but she didn’t know that he was receiving one.
“Sí, a big award. I’m honored,” he said, laying his hand flat on his chest and taking a slight bow, the motion sincere. “Without my fans, I wouldn’t be here. So, in fact, this award would be for all of them.”
When they finally continued down the red carpet, Amanda reached out to touch his arm. He glanced at her. “You are up for an award?” she asked. “For what?”
“Male Latino Artist of the Year.”
“But you don’t paint!” she exclaimed with a smile, teasing him.
He laughed at her, happy with her gentle teasing, which he took as a subtle indication that she was feeling more comfortable in her new environment “Ay, Princesa.” He shook his head, clicking his tongue as they approached the door. “That, I most certainly do not.” He leaned over and pressed a soft kiss on the side of her head, then gestured for her to walk before him into the building.
Once inside, she was surprised to see hundreds of people, the men wearing fancy suits or tuxedos and the women in gowns both long and short. People smiled at them as they walked through the crowd, and a few stopped to exchange a handshake or even a friendly hug with Alejandro. And all of those people stared at Amanda, waiting for an introduction. Within thirty minutes, she estimated that she had met twenty of them, none for whom she could remember a name. The one thing that did stick in her mind was the way that the men raised an eyebrow when they met her and how several of the women had all but sneered at her, clearly not impressed or not wishing to show their own envy of Amanda’s position in Viper’s life.
“Ven, Princesa,” he murmured in her ear. “We must take our seats.”
They were escorted to a special section of the dining hall. Round tables were covered with white cloths, and three-foot-high vases were filled with gorgeous white flowers. The people who were nominated for awards were seated toward the front so that they wouldn’t have to walk as far to accept the award, should they win.
There were several other people already seated at their table when they arrived. Alejandro greeted all of them and introduced Amanda. He would whisper in her ear that the younger man, Justin Bell, was nominated for New Artist of the Year, while the woman at his side was an actress on a television show for children and teenagers. There were also three other couples at the table, including another Latino—a rapper known as Dricke Ray, and two African American singers who Viper apparently knew very well.
All of their dates looked like models with long legs and wavy hair that hung down their backs. Their makeup was heavy yet beautiful. For the first few minutes, it was all Amanda could do not to stare, feeling inferior in her own appearance.
Pride. The word whispered through her mind, and she immediately felt ashamed. She had never cared about her appearance before now. How quickly she had forgotten all that she had learned throughout her life! What was important was not how she looked, but that she honored God. Even in Los Angeles, she could continue to honor God and not give in to the worldly ways of the Englische.
Or could she? She glanced around the room at the crystal chandeliers and magnificent floral arrangements. Where was God in all of this? She felt lost, and for the first time that day, she realized that she missed home.
“Amanda,” Alejandro purred into her ear. “Have a sip of your champagne.”
She turned to look at him. “My what?”
He handed her a tall fluted glass with a pale, bubbling liquid in it. At the bottom was a juicy red strawberry. “Champagne,” he said. “You will like it.”
Obediently, she took the glass and stared at it. “Is that a strawberry?” she asked, amazed. “I’ve never seen such a thing!”
Several people at the table snickered, and Alejandro laughed. “It is good,” he insisted and urged her to take a sip.
When she did, she immediately noticed the bubbles. They tickled the back of her throat and almost made her want to sneeze. The taste of the liquid was not fruity as she expected, although she did taste something sweet about it. To her surprise, she did like it. “It is gut!” she said, smiling at him. “It’s different but right gut!”
He touched her free hand and lifted it to his lips. “Just sip it, Princesa,” he whispered.
“Charming,” Dricke said and leaned over toward Amanda. “You are liking Los Angeles, no?”
She nodded her head. “Oh ja,” she said. “It’s ever so much better than that Las Vegas!”
Several people at the table laughed at her statement.
“And why is that?” Dricke said politely.
“I don’t think gambling is good,” she admitted. “Those people should be at home with their families, not sitting in front of those noisy machines losing their money.”
“Ah,” Dricke said. “But some people find that to be entertainment!”
Amanda frowned. “How odd! I see nothing entertaining about giving away your money!”
Again, the people at the table laughed. Or, rather, the men laughed and the woman with Justin Bell laughed. But the other women rolled their eyes and looked away. It was clear that they didn’t care much for Amanda’s innocence and saw nothing amusing about her fresh perspective on what they so often took for granted.
“I agree with you!” the woman next to Justin Bell said. Her name was Celinda Ruiz. She had large brown eyes and thick black hair. The smile on her face was the only genuine one that Amanda had seen come her way from a woman that evening. Immediately, Amanda knew that she liked Celinda, and for the first time, wondered if she might actually find a friend in this strange world of Alejandro’s.
For the next hour, the four-course meal was served by men wearing white gloves, who greeted each guest by name. Amanda was stunned when the
waiter called her Ms. Beiler; she whispered to Alejandro, wondering how he knew who she was.
“They all know who everyone is here,” he responded quietly so that no one else would overhear. “That’s their job. To make us all feel like VIPs . . . very important people,” he explained.
It was after the plates were taken away and the tables cleared that the award ceremony began. Amanda watched in earnest from the beginning but soon lost interest as to what was happening on the raised stage in the front of the room. She watched the people, instead. Polite applause for each named nominee, and loud bursts of applause for the winners. Those who did not win smiled and accepted their loss with grace, while those whose name was ultimately called seemed to act surprised and humbled by the honor of receiving the award.
When it was time for the MC to announce the Latino Artist of the Year, Amanda was surprised to learn that Dricke Ray, seated to her left, was also up for that award. She glanced at him, then at Alejandro, wondering if they felt competitive toward each other. That was one reason that the Amish didn’t have competitions like this. It set one over the rest, which could cause resentment.
However, she saw no indication that Dricke Ray or Alejandro held a grudge against each other.
“And the winner of the Latino Artist of the Year is . . .” A moment of silence filled the room while the MC struggled with an envelope. He opened it and glanced down at whatever was written on the paper inside before he smiled and leaned into the microphone. “Viper!”
The room all at once burst into applause, and Alejandro smiled for the photographers who hurried to take his picture. He leaned over and placed a soft kiss on Amanda’s cheek before he stood up. Dricke Ray stood, too, and gave Alejandro a friendly embrace before Alejandro strode toward the stage, pausing to shake hands with two other people along the way.
Amanda watched as he climbed the steps to the podium, shook the hand of the MC, and accepted the small crystal statue. He glanced at it, then smiled at the crowd.