Plain Choice (The Plain Fame Series Book 5)

by Price, Sarah

  And that meant that, when Enrique had suggested the idea about the photo shoot, he had tried to pass off Alejandro’s hard work as his own, perhaps with the sole purpose of impressing Celinda. From the way that Celinda kept looking in his direction and blushing when she caught him watching her, Amanda realized that it had, indeed, worked. His constant quest to impress women so that they might wind up in his bed was just one more reason why she found herself repulsed by the man more and more with each day.

  “Do you know about Enrique and Celinda? That they are . . .”

  She couldn’t even finish asking the question. She had been disgusted with both Enrique’s and Celinda’s behavior at Schönbrunn Palace. The short amount of time reserved for filming the video had run over for one reason: Enrique and Celinda spent more time flirting with each other than focusing on the directions from the video film team. Amanda saw the way that Celinda looked at Enrique and worried that her friend felt more for him than he did for her. The last thing Amanda wanted to see was Celinda get hurt again, especially after her recent breakup with Justin.

  After the photo shoot, Amanda and Alejandro had returned to the hotel. They were both exhausted, and since they didn’t have any obligations that evening, Alejandro had no desire to go out in Vienna, even though they only had a short stay in the beautiful city. Silently, Amanda had cheered. She wanted nothing more than to snuggle in bed beside her husband, listening to him catch up on his much-needed sleep while she read from her Kindle. Right now she was in the midst of rereading the book of Proverbs, one of her favorite books in the Bible, especially all of the quotes about wisdom.

  Alejandro was already stretched out under the covers, one arm tossed behind his head as he pointed the remote control at the television with his other hand. “There’s no news on? ¡Ay, mi madre!” he mumbled.

  “Did you hear me, Alejandro? About Celinda and Enrique?”

  He glanced over to where she stood in the doorway of the bathroom, dressed in a silk nightgown and brushing her long hair that she had just unpinned. “Sí, sí, I heard you. It’s none of my business what either of those two do.”

  Amanda frowned. “She loves Justin, but she spent the night with Enrique?”

  He sighed and tossed the remote onto the comforter. “¡Ay, Princesa! Why are you worrying about Celinda? We have our own lives to worry about, no?”

  She set down the hairbrush and walked over to the bed. Alejandro moved the sheets back so that she could crawl in next to him. “I know it’s her own life,” she said as she settled down, her head resting against his shoulder, “but what if . . .”

  “What if what?” he asked, his tone clearly indicating his lack of interest in the subject.

  “What if she were to . . .” She wanted to ask the question, yet felt embarrassed to even broach the subject. But pregnancy was on her mind. Once again, earlier that morning, she had taken a pregnancy test, eagerly waiting for the window on the little stick to change into a pink plus sign, indicating that she was pregnant. And, once again, it had not.

  Alejandro shifted his weight and leaned on his elbow. “¿Qué, Amanda? What has you so tongue-tied?” he asked, his attention now more focused on her than on the television.

  Reaching out her hand, she traced the outline of one of his tattoos on his upper arms. She loved waking up in the morning to see him sleeping on his side, her name tattooed on his shoulder. It was almost as if he had branded himself to show that she was his and he would always be hers. “They are both young, and what if she were to become with child?”

  At this question, Alejandro began to smile, just enough to indicate his amusement.

  “I find nothing humorous about my question,” Amanda stated. “I’m concerned for my friend.”

  “¡Ay, Princesa!” He reached out and ran his fingers through her hair. “They are adults, and while young, they are well versed in how to avoid getting pregnant.”

  And there it was, the reminder of Anna’s question as to whether Alejandro had done the same: prevented future children.

  “You know I’m not familiar with such things,” Amanda said slowly, her fingers moving upward from his shoulder to brush along his neck.

  He smiled. “Ja, I know. I remember well the number of children in the Amish families when we went to church last summer.” His eyes narrowed as she continued to touch his skin. “Mmm . . . I always wondered why your parents had such a small family.”

  “Mamm had several miscarriages after I was born,” Amanda stated. She remembered far too well the years of tears with the loss of each pregnancy. “We were surprised when Aaron came along. The doctor didn’t think she could carry a baby to term.”

  Moving his hand from her head, he touched her waist and pulled her toward him so that he could rest his head in her lap. She began to stroke his hair, loving the way that his thick curls twisted around her fingers. He hadn’t shaved after his shower, so his razor stubble tickled her leg through her nightgown.

  “Alejandro?”

  He gave a soft moan, his eyes shut as he relaxed under her gentle caresses. “¿Qué?”

  “I took another pregnancy test,” she said quietly.

  His eyes opened and she felt his hold on her waist stiffen. When he didn’t respond, she frowned. Shouldn’t he have asked her what the results were? Or did he already know? She waited for him to ask, but he didn’t.

  “Aren’t you curious?”

  “Sí . . .” But he let the word drag out so that she wondered if he truly meant it.

  “Then ask me.”

  He sat up and peered at her with his blue eyes and his jaw tense. “You must have taken it for some reason, Amanda.”

  “It’s been months, Alejandro. Months since I . . .” She paused, uncomfortable talking about her menstruation. “I haven’t had it since before I left South America.”

  His eyebrow arched over his left eye as he continued waiting for her response.

  “And it was negative.”

  “What was negative?” he asked.

  “The pregnancy test.” When she noticed the relieved look on his face again, she averted her eyes, not wanting him to see her own disappointment that now extended beyond the results of the test to include his reaction.

  “I’m sorry, Amanda,” he said at last and tried to wrap his arms around her shoulders.

  But she slipped out of the bed and away from his touch.

  “What is that?” The anger in his voice was instantaneous. She had never shied away from his touch. “I try to comfort you and you walk away?”

  “We’ve been married for eight months, Alejandro.” She turned around to face him. “You make love to me almost every day when we are together! Why am I not pregnant?”

  He slid his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. His shoulders carried the weight of his irritation as he walked over to grab a water bottle from the ice bucket on the dresser. “I don’t know, Amanda.” He leaned against the dresser as he uncapped the bottle. “Do not punish me for this.”

  She did not look away from his steady gaze. “I know how you feel about children, Alejandro. Your career comes first.”

  “What?” he asked, his harsh tone revealing his irritation at her comment. “That’s ridiculous, Amanda!”

  She ignored him and continued. “You’ve also known many women after Isadora’s birth. Why don’t you have other children?”

  “¡Ay, mi madre!” He ran his fingers through his hair and looked up at the ceiling. “You want me to have more illegitimate children? You are angry with me because I don’t?”

  “Nee, Alejandro,” she responded, trying to soften her tone. “I am, however, curious as to why you don’t.”

  “I am not having this conversation,” he muttered to himself, crossing his arms over his chest.

  Taking a deep breath, Amanda finally blurted out the question that had been on her mind since leaving Lititz. “Have you done something so you can’t have more babies? I . . . I have a right to know.”

  For a
long moment, he simply stared at her, a blank expression on his face. He blinked his eyes and furrowed his eyebrows. Then, just when she thought he might be on the verge of admitting the truth—a truth that she did not want to hear—he surprised her by bursting into a deep, hearty laugh. He set down the water bottle and crossed the room to her, his laughter causing her to feel even worse as she began to tear up.

  “Princesa!” he said as he put his hands on her shoulders and bent his knees so that he could look directly into her face. “Is that what you think? ¡Ay, Dios, mamacita! No, Amanda, I would never do such a thing.”

  A tear escaped her eye and slowly fell down her cheek. She swiped at it with her one hand.

  “As for you, we will see a doctor when we return, sí? It will be fine, I’m sure. Most likely the travel and the poor diet of life on the road is affecting your menstruation. Why, you are doing so much; I see how you fall into a deep sleep on the buses and planes. We need to make certain you eat better and more regularly. You’ll see,” he said, trying to reassure her, his hands rubbing her arms. “You’ll feel much better, sí?”

  She wiped at a tear and looked up at him through watery eyes. “What if that’s not it? What if something is wrong?”

  Pulling her into his arms, he pressed her head against his shoulder. “Shh,” he whispered. “There is nothing wrong.”

  “But you don’t even want a baby,” she said as she began to sob.

  “I never said that!”

  She nodded her head, trying to control herself, but her sobs merely turned into soft hiccups—which, to her dismay, only seemed to amuse him even more. “You said we’re traveling and that it’s too hard to have a baby on tour.”

  “Sí, that is true. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want one.”

  “And . . . and look at Isadora!” she managed to say. “I feel as if we’ve abandoned her, Alejandro.”

  “Ay, mi madre,” he mumbled, pressing his hand against his head. “You said yourself just last week that she is loved and in a much better environment than being dragged from city to city, country to country.”

  Her tears fell onto his shoulder, and she tried to wipe them away, only to have more tears wet his skin.

  “Now, please stop crying, sí? It will happen when it happens, mi amor. Aren’t you the one that always tells me God has a plan for us?” He moved back and put his hands on either side of her cheeks, staring into her face. “God has one for you, too. And you will have a baby, Amanda. My baby. But only when God decides.”

  She sniffled and nodded her head, feeling foolish for having confronted him in such a manner.

  “Now,” he said, a mischievous gleam starting to fill his eyes. “About that comment you made?”

  “Which one?” she asked in a soft voice.

  He let his hands fall down to take hers and gently guided her back toward the bed. “About making love to you every day . . .”

  She blushed and tried to resist him.

  “You reminded me we have missed a day. Today.”

  She gave a soft laugh, a final tear falling from her eyes. “I was just crying!” she protested. “I’m sure I look—”

  He placed his finger against her lips to silence her. “Crying or not, you are always beautiful, Princesa. And I don’t care if you have tear-streaked cheeks or puffy eyes.” She balked at his description, knowing it was true. “What I care about is my promise to you that we will have fun trying to make this baby, Amanda. And after all of that,” he said, “so much emotion, I think I know just the way to make good on that promise.”

  Chapter Twenty

  With Celinda not joining the tour in Zürich or Bern, Amanda felt a new sense of loss. Gone was the only person she considered a friend. There was no one else—certainly not Charlotte—in whom Amanda could confide. Just as Alejandro had once told her, everyone seemed to want something from her. Simply put, she could not trust anyone, and it made for long and lonely days. In those moments, Amanda realized how much she missed Anna and even her mother. However, Amanda forced herself to keep a firm upper lip so that Alejandro would never suspect how homesick she felt.

  At least Charlotte had honored her promise to keep Amanda busy in each country on the European tour. Today was the continuation of a photo shoot started in Paris that was a behind-the-scenes look at Amanda’s life on the road. This time, the photographer and journalist would accompany Amanda to a high school where she was to be given a tour and meet with students.

  The previous day Amanda had done a tour at a different school on the other side of Zürich. If Amanda had originally balked at the idea, she found that it was one of the more enjoyable days on the tour, much better than the repetitive interviews for radio, television, or magazines. Just hearing the teenagers thanking her for being a role model and providing inspiration in their lives made Amanda realize that, just as Alejandro and Geoffrey had predicted, adopting the role of ambassador of goodwill was something she truly found engaging.

  When she awoke the morning of their second day in Zürich, she found she did not dread the schedule as much as she normally did.

  Alejandro looked up from his laptop as she walked out of the bedroom, dressed for the day. His eyes drank in her white dress with its slightly revealing V-neck plunge line, the fabric hugging her body in a simple way that showed off her figure without being too provocative. “Ay, mi madre,” he said, whistling as she sauntered into the room, pretending to turn around for his inspection.

  “You like?”

  “Sí, Princesa,” he said, standing up and approaching her. Wearing just his black gym pants and no shirt, the contrast between the two of them was comical. He reached for her hand and lifted it over her head as she twirled around for him. “Ooh la la, mi amor!”

  Before she realized what had happened, he pulled her against him. She shouldn’t have been surprised. The sultry look in his eyes was all too familiar.

  “What time is that appointment, Princesa?” he asked as he started walking her backward with him toward the room she had just left.

  “Alejandro!” she protested. “Really, I have to go.”

  He ignored her pleas and gently pushed her onto the mattress, standing over her as she struggled to sit up. “They will wait for you,” he said as he reached down and stroked her neck. “You are, after all, Princesa, the royalty of the rap world.”

  She gave a little laugh. “I hate that,” she said, but her voice faltered and she shut her eyes, forgetting that a car waited for her downstairs and that she would be late for her appointment. His touch on her skin sent a shiver down her spine. Slowly, she responded to the closeness of his body, especially his naked chest. She couldn’t help but reach out and touch his stomach, so firm and warm.

  He grabbed her hand and her eyes flew open.

  “Did I do something wrong?” she asked innocently.

  He answered by lowering his body onto hers and pressing his mouth against hers, a kiss filled with such passion it took her breath away. She barely even noticed that he was reaching to pull her dress over her head. By the time she realized what he was doing, the warmth of his body against hers had eliminated any and all further protests.

  By the time her phone began to ring, she lay in his arms, basking in the glow of his love. She started to get up in order to retrieve it, but he held her even firmer, his legs entwined with hers. She noticed her dress crumpled in a heap on the floor and quickly tried to figure out what she would wear in its place.

  “Don’t go, Princesa,” he purred into her neck.

  “I really must.” She kissed his arm as she slowly peeled herself away from his grasp. “And you have things to do today, too.”

  He rolled over and leaned his head against his hand, watching as she picked up the dress and examined it.

  “That was brand-new,” she scolded him.

  “I’ll buy you ten more like it!”

  She frowned as she passed the bed, the dress in her hands. “That would be rather wasteful, Alejandro.”


  He laughed and threw a pillow at her, which she artfully dodged.

  Five minutes later and wearing a simple black dress, she hurried into the elevator to meet up with the car. Alejandro insisted that the black dress was more striking, even though she’d wanted to wear the other dress. Charlotte had repeatedly told her that white clothing was a more sophisticated look for her, and it often caught the attention of people at the different places she visited. And today Amanda wanted to be visible since she was trying to raise awareness about the school.

  The elevator stopped at a floor and two people entered, an American-looking girl with her mother.

  “Oh!” The girl gasped before she tugged at her mother’s hand and leaned over to whisper something in her ear.

  Amanda tried to hide her smile.

  “Excuse me,” the girl said nervously. “Are you . . . Princesa?”

  “I am Amanda Diaz, ja,” she responded, silently wishing that the British interviewer had never made the comment about Alejandro and Amanda being the royalty of the rap world. The pet nickname that Alejandro had given her had spread like wildfire. Whenever she heard it, she cringed. “And you are . . . ?”

  “Me?”

  Amanda laughed. “You, ja! What is your name?”

  “Julia.”

  Amanda extended her hand for Julia to shake. “It’s very nice to meet you, Julia.”

  The girl’s face lit up as she shook Amanda’s hand.

  “Would you like a photo, then?” Amanda asked. “Perhaps in the foyer, if that’s where you’re going. It’s much prettier than here.” She glanced around the elevator as if to make her point.

  “Oh, I would!”

  The mother leaned forward. “We’re your biggest fans!” She, too, looked as starstruck as her daughter.