by Sarah Price
Perhaps, Amanda thought sadly, there would be no joint return to the farm. If anything, she’d most likely return on her own for a short visit while Alejandro was on the road. With his busy schedule and constant travel, finding a few days to vacation together seemed nearly impossible.
It was a half hour later when the buggy pulled into the driveway and Jonas appeared in the dairy. He apologized to Harvey for his late arrival and quickly got to work. Amanda finished what she was doing and carried a full bucket of milk to the containment system in the back room. Glancing out the window, she noticed that Anna was unhitching the horse from the buggy.
Amanda set the empty bucket on the ground and wiped her hands on the front of her apron as she hurried toward the barn door. The sting of the cold air sent a chill up her spine, and she wrapped her arms around her chest. Snow indeed, she thought as she glanced up into the sky.
“Let me help,” Amanda said as she approached her sister in the driveway. “Faster with two sets of hands, ja?”
Anna smiled her appreciation and the two of them quickly began to unharness the horse from the buggy. “How was your visit, then?” Amanda asked as she lifted one of the buggy’s shafts to help move it inside the barn before the snow fell.
“Right gut,” Anna replied. “So nice to see the family. Such a shame they couldn’t come to Ohio for the wedding.”
Amanda thought back to her own wedding and smiled. It would have been nicer if her family could have been there, but with that one exception, she wouldn’t have changed anything else about that day. Besides, she realized, Alejandro’s family and religion were so different from the Amish that she knew they would not have appreciated the ceremony in the same way that she had.
With the horse wiped down and the buggy safely stored away, Amanda and Anna hurried back into the house. After hanging up their coats, they stood by the heater and tried to warm up.
“So tell me about our cousins, Anna,” Amanda began. “I haven’t seen them in such a long time. I should have ridden along with you and Jonas, I reckon.”
The chime on her cell phone rang, announcing a text message. Amanda stopped speaking in midsentence and hurried over to pick up the phone on the counter where she had left it. A smile was on her face as she slid her finger across the phone to unlock it and read her message. The thought crossed her mind that he had not called her but texted her instead. However, she figured he had been busy with interviews and recording, whatever Mike and his publicist had put on his schedule.
Only the message was not from Alejandro.
It was a photograph from an unknown number. And it was of Alejandro. But he was not alone and, from the looks of it, he was intoxicated. His glasses were atop his head, his eyes bloodshot, and his skin pale. The smile on his face was lopsided and not the typical expression of control that he wore.
That, however, was not what concerned her the most. It was the way his arm was wrapped around a woman’s neck, pulling her close to him, her head almost resting on his shoulder. And it wasn’t just any woman; it was Maria.
Maria wearing the very same white bathrobe with the pink embroidered A over a rose that Alejandro had gifted to Amanda on their first trip to LA. Maria with her blond hair in an updo, tendrils dripping down her neck. Maria with sparkling earrings and a necklace that brought attention to her bare chest peeking out from under the garment.
Maria in the arms of Amanda’s husband.
“What’s wrong, Amanda?”
She could barely tear her eyes away from the photograph on her phone. Briefly, she glanced at her mamm and schwester but merely shook her head. There were no words that could pass her lips. She knew that the color had drained from her face. She felt her hands trembling.
And then the chime rang again.
Another photo. This one was worse than the first. She shut her eyes and said a silent prayer. Please God, she prayed. Make this not be true. But when she opened her eyes, she saw that her prayer was not answered. The photograph was still there. The photograph of Maria and Alejandro walking into the lobby of a building together, his arm slung around her neck. There was no question what the insinuation meant. What was worse, she recognized the building: their condominium in Los Angeles.
Trying to maintain her composure, Amanda took a deep breath and shut off the phone. She set it down on the table, facedown, and lifted her eyes to meet the curious gazes of her mother and sister. “It’s nothing,” she said, forcing a smile that hurt her soul. The lie pained her, but she knew that she could never share those photos with her family. They’d never understand something that she, herself, could barely comprehend.
“Think I’ll go outside for a spell,” she mumbled.
She was partially down the walkway when she heard the screen door open and footsteps on the porch. “Amanda!” her sister called as she ran toward her. “Your shawl! You’ll catch cold!” With great affection, Anna wrapped the wool shawl around Amanda’s shoulders and tucked it tightly under her chin. She spared her a smile and said, “If you need to talk . . .”
Amanda nodded but could not speak. She was struggling to fight back the tears and the painful lump in her throat. She needed to be alone. Talking wasn’t going to help, not this time. “I’m fine,” she managed to say, knowing that her voice was not as convincing as the words she had spoken.
Turning her back toward the house, she let her feet take her down the road. She stared at nothing as she walked, breathing in the crisp air and listening to the crunching of the snow under her shoes. The noise created a filter in her mind; she could only use it as an escape from the thoughts that were causing darkness in her heart.
As she approached the end of the lane, she ignored the paparazzi that had, once again, set up a twenty-four-hour team, just in case something happened in the wee hours of the night that warranted reporting to the rest of the world. Their reemergence at the farm didn’t surprise her, and she suspected that they, too, had been privy to those photos of Alejandro and Maria. They snapped her photograph, eager to report to the world how Viper’s wife had responded to the news that he had spent the evening with another woman.
Only their presence didn’t matter to her, not in her current state of mind.
Anyone could have sent her those photos, she realized. Even the paparazzi could have sent them, eagerly awaiting her reaction to such heartbreaking images of her husband seeking comfort in Maria’s arms.
But Amanda didn’t care. For the moment, her only thought was to concentrate on trying to calm down and control her emotions. It would do no one any good to fall apart, she told herself, knowing that falling apart was the one thing she wanted to do.
Her mind traveled back to the argument that they had had prior to her leaving. Her tears on account of that awful video had been mirrored by the tears she had cried on her flight back to Philadelphia. Since their separation, their communications had been stressed, that was undeniable. But to think that Alejandro would slip so carelessly into his Viper mindset and be seen in public with another woman, especially that Maria? To take her in his arms? To bring her to their home? To do something so unthinkable?
She could not even finish her train of thought! The images in her mind caused her stomach to twist and turn, an ache that spread throughout her body.
Her feet carried her down the road, unconcerned by the slow-moving car behind her. Let them take photos, she thought bitterly. All they will see is my back, and what interest would that be to the insatiable fans? Immediately, she recognized the bitterness in her own feelings. In her entire life, she had never felt this way, and the feeling completely drained her emotions while darkening her heart.
Please, God, from whom all blessings flow, guide me through this in the true manner of being your child.
She felt a wave of nausea and hurried to the side of the road. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she bent down and vomited. Her back convulsed from her predicament, and she didn’t care that the photographers in the car following her were taking picture afte
r picture at a frenzied pace, having finally found what they were out to get: a photo of the despondent Amanda, the most famous Amish woman in the world and now the most brokenhearted.
Chapter Twenty-Three
When he finally awoke, the room was dark and he had no idea what time it was. A thin trickle of light shone in through the crack in the curtains, which had been shut. By whom, he had no idea. His head ached and his eyes felt bleary. Groaning, he rolled over in the bed, tossing an arm over his forehead as he thought back to the previous evening. What had happened? How had he returned to the condo?
After a few minutes, he slid his legs over the side of the bed. He leaned his elbows on his knees as he rubbed his face. He remembered being angry with Maria at the after-party, how she continued to cling to his arm and linger nearby with those other women. But after hanging with Dricke Ray and Justin Bell, he had begun to loosen up a bit. And then they had convinced him to sing, something that he did not need much encouragement to do.
After that, too many people had sent over congratulatory drinks to him. As his head lightened, so did his mood. Dancing, laughing, photos with the different ladies. For a few hours, he had been Viper, living la vida loca, the crazy life that he had abandoned only a few short months earlier. Now, the morning after, as he tried to piece together the fuzzy missing sections of the previous night, he realized that the switch had been far too easy for him. He had forgotten what it was like to be young and wild and free. He had forgotten what it felt like to be among adoring fans and sexy women. And he had forgotten the fact that he was married and wildly in love with his wife.
Amanda!
He scrambled for his phone, and despite his still-unfocused eyes, he punched at the buttons so that it turned on, the clock clearly displaying 1:04 p.m. Had he truly slept that late? He searched his memory, trying to recall if he had any appointments today. Probably. When didn’t he have appointments? he thought bitterly. Mike would have to deal with his no-show appearance.
“Hey, you’re awake!”
The female voice from the doorway startled him. He jumped and quickly looked in the direction from where her voice came. Leaning against the doorframe in a sheer white dressing gown was Maria, her blond hair hanging over her shoulder in wild curls. As always, her makeup was impeccable and she was the vision of beauty. But it was the glow in her eyes that scared him.
She crossed the room and handed him a white mug with hot coffee. “Black, the way you like it, baby,” she said, a knowing smile on her face.
He didn’t speak as he took it from her, a sense of dread building within his chest.
She took his silence for an unspoken invitation and sat down on the bed next to him, too close for his comfort. “Wow!” she said, laughing lightly as she flipped her hair over her shoulder. The curl immediately swooped back across her cheek in that particularly unique Maria type of way. “That was some party last night, sí?”
He sipped at the coffee, knowing that she was going to tell him whatever he needed to know. She always did. He also knew that it would serve no purpose to admit that he barely remembered what had happened and was extremely curious as to why she was in his condo. In due time, he told himself, she will tell me, no doubt.
She reached out and ran her fingers through his hair. He stiffened at her touch, but she ignored it. “I can’t believe what we did last night,” she laughed, tilting her head back. Her hair brushed against his bare skin. “That was so much fun! I’ll simply never forget it!”
“Maria . . .” He reached up with his free hand and brushed away her touch. “Stop.”
Despite his protest, her hand lingered on his shoulder. “It’s so good to have my Viper back,” she whispered and leaned over to kiss at his neck. The gesture shocked him. It was too unexpected. Even more unexpected was the familiar way in which she had done it. As if he shouldn’t have been surprised. As if he should have expected it. As if it was the most natural act in the world between the two of them.
Abruptly, he stood up. His heart was pounding. He needed time alone . . . time to think and collect himself. He searched his memory, fighting the cloud of mystery that hung over the throbbing in his temples. He tried to think why she would have kissed him, why she had entered his room, and, most important, why she was even there.
“You need to leave, Maria,” he said, his tone low and even. Get in control, he told himself. Control the situation. “I’m not sure how you managed to get in here, but it’s time to leave.”
She laughed again and leaned back on the bed, one leg bent seductively. “You invited me,” she purred, her eyes drooping just enough to indicate that she was flirting with him. “Multiple times, Viper.”
He shut his eyes and clenched his fist. No, no, no, he screamed to himself. “Please get out,” he said calmly.
She laughed, a noise that sounded more sinister than friendly. “Oh, Viper,” she said softly. “I don’t think you mean that.”
What have I done? He wanted to scream at the top of his lungs, to wake up and find that this was just a bad nightmare. Yes, he had gone out with Dricke Ray and some of the usual entourage after the Jingle Ball. Clearly, he had consumed far too much alcohol. But to actually break his sacred marriage vow to Amanda? Impossible, he told himself.
“Maria,” he said calmly. “I have asked you to leave. It’s time.” He stared at the wall, waiting to hear movement . . . the rustling of sheets, her footsteps on the padded carpet, the noise of a door opening. Instead, he heard nothing. When he looked over his shoulder and saw that she had made no move to exit, a mischievous smirk on her face, he hissed at her. “¡Ahora!”
She gasped and hurried off the bed. With narrowed eyes, she faced him and met his glare with her own. “It was only a matter of time, Alejandro!” she snarled, venom in her voice. “Marrying a quaint little farm girl and thinking you could change!” She laughed. “A tiger’s stripes can fade, but they never go away; a tiger never stops being a tiger.” Tilting her chin into the air, she smiled at him smugly. “Neither does a player!”
“Andres!” he shouted, calling for his security guard. It took a few minutes for the large man, dressed all in black, to appear in the open bedroom door. “Please escort this young . . .” He hesitated, trying to force himself to remain composed. “. . . Woman to the exit.”
“I don’t need an escort,” she snapped as she hurried toward the bathroom to change into her clothes. It only took her a few minutes to emerge, a small bag in her hand and dressed in a plain body-hugging dress with tall black stilettos. For a moment, he frowned, wondering about her change of clothes.
He waited until he heard the door to the suite shut before he allowed himself to pick up his phone and walk to the large, plush white chair by the window. Sinking into it, he used one finger to pull back the curtain and winced, as if in pain, at the bright light.
The phone felt heavy in his hand. He had to call Amanda. Surely she was waiting for him. He hadn’t called after the awards ceremony to tell her the good news. There hadn’t been time. He had been whisked behind the stage where reporters and photographers were lined up to interview him. It was a gauntlet, moving from one station to the next, smiling into the cameras and repeating words of appreciation for having been recognized, especially given the strong competition of the other nominees.
Then he had been hurried to the dressing room where he had changed in order to perform in the final half hour. After his song, he had quickly showered and changed once again before leaving the venue and heading to the after-party.
And that’s where the trouble had begun.
Drinks, toasts, congratulations, celebration. The music, the laughter, the pride of having won the award. It had been too much, and after weeks of not having partied with his entourage, it had gone to his head. Slipping back into the role of Viper had apparently been easier than he thought.
He stared at the phone, which seemed to stare right back at him, mocking him, for he knew that he needed to call Amanda, but he had no idea what
he was going to say. He had never lied to her, never really lied to anyone, except during his bad days on the streets of Miami. If only he could remember everything . . .
“Viper?”
He looked up at Andres, who stood in the open doorway. “¿Sí?”
“Mike is here to see you.”
Alejandro frowned and shook his head. There was no way that he could see Mike right now. His mind was swarming, his temples were throbbing, and he felt weak in the knees. He had to collect himself, had to sort his jumbled thoughts. “Tell him later.”
There was no need to tell Mike anything, for he stormed through the bedroom doors. “What did you do last night, Alex? You missed your morning appointment and now you’re late for your interview! My phone is ringing off the hook!”
“Not now,” Alejandro responded, walking past his manager and heading toward the bathroom. He slammed the door shut and turned on the faucet. The cold water poured down the drain, and he quickly splashed it over his face. It felt good, calming him down for a moment as he stared into the mirror.
Glimpses came back to him. The music was loud. The lights were flashing. And Maria had been by his side the entire night. They had danced; he remembered that much quite clearly. She had tried to kiss him at the nightclub, but he had pushed her away. That image came to him, too. But how had she managed to wind up in his condo? Had he truly invited her to accompany him? Had he been so intoxicated that he had betrayed his marriage vows?
Knowing that Mike was going to wait until he reappeared, Alejandro took his time. He switched on the shower and waited until the steam began to cloud the mirror. Only then did he strip and step inside, the hot water pouring over his head and down his back. His muscles began to relax, and he leaned one hand on the wall, his head hanging down as he tried to reconcile himself to the fact that, indeed, he had no memory of what had actually happened.