Plain Choice (The Plain Fame Series Book 5)

by Price, Sarah

  She must have drifted to sleep for the room was almost dark when she heard the door open. Barely awake, she swung her legs off the sofa and sat up, trying to see where he was.

  “Alejandro?”

  A flick of a switch and light washed over the room. She blinked at the brightness, her eyes needing a moment to adjust.

  “Sorry, Amanda,” a too-familiar voice said.

  “Enrique?”

  If she had been sleepy before, she was wide-awake now. Her body tensed, and she wondered what time it was.

  He wandered to the bar and leaned over it for a glass. “Want a drink?”

  “What are you doing here?”

  He ignored the question and poured himself a vodka straight up. He lifted the glass into the air, gesturing to her. “You sure?” When she didn’t answer, he walked over and sat down on the other side of the sofa. Amanda immediately stood up and took a few steps away. “Where’s Viper?”

  She didn’t like him being there, not without Alejandro. She glanced at the window, wondering how long she had slept and when he would arrive. Being alone with Enrique was not something she desired. “Are you supposed to meet him here, then?”

  “Sí, for the final recording of our song.”

  Amanda frowned. That didn’t make any sense. Alejandro had said they would have dinner alone when he returned. “You must be mistaken,” she said. “He’s running late from his meetings, and we’re to go out tonight. Alone.”

  If she had hoped he would take the hint, he didn’t. Swirling the alcohol in his glass, he lifted it to his lips and took a long, slow drink. “I can wait a bit to see him. We won’t have time to finish it in Scandinavia.” He glanced at the window, but with the sun down for an hour, the only light to be seen was from the buildings. “Bern’s a pretty city, sí? It’s old. I like that.” He looked over at her. “The history. We don’t have that in America.”

  She didn’t respond.

  “What is it, Princesa—” he started to ask, but Amanda interrupted him.

  “Don’t call me that.” She frowned. “I’ve told you that at least a dozen times before.”

  He laughed, standing up and slowly moving toward her. “Why not? The rest of the world does, no?”

  As he approached her, she backed away but refused to lower her eyes from his. To do so would show a sign of weakness. “It sounds dirty from your lips.”

  “As I was starting to ask, what is it, Amanda,” Enrique said, emphasizing her name, “that you find so unappealing about me?”

  She looked away from him, her arms crossed over her chest as if to protect herself.

  “Women throw themselves at me, Amanda,” he said. “You, however, won’t even look at me.” He stood in front of her and reached out as if to touch her cheek.

  Amanda recoiled, taking a second step backward and continuing to stare directly into his face. “Do not touch me, Enrique.”

  He closed the distance between them, his eyelids drooping and a lazy smile on his face. “Of all the women in the world, you are the only one who says that.”

  “I find that very hard to believe,” she said, feeling the edge of the counter pressing against her back. She could not move any farther away from him.

  “Women find me sexy, Princesa.”

  She didn’t bother to correct him, suddenly realizing that, in all likelihood, the vodka he had just downed in two gulps was not the first, or even second, drink he had consumed that evening. She sensed danger about him and immediately glanced around the room, trying to find a way to put some distance between them.

  “Now, why doesn’t that apply to you?” He smirked at her. “I wonder if it’s because you are married. If so, that’s a sorry excuse, Princesa. In this business, everyone cheats.”

  At that comment, Amanda lashed out at him. “Just because you live for one-night stands does not mean that everyone does that. In fact, just hearing you say that makes you even more repulsive to me, Enrique.”

  “Repulsive?” He repeated the word, letting it roll off his tongue as if he were tasting it. “That’s not what your friend Celinda said about me in Paris, Prague, and—if memory serves me correctly—in Vienna, too,” he said. “Now I know why Justin Bell left her. Unlike you, she’s a bit too willing to give.”

  Without thinking, Amanda slapped his cheek. She knew far too well what had transpired between Celinda and Enrique, and to hear him speak of her in such a negative way infuriated her. But as soon as her hand made contact with his face, the noise loud and sharp, her mouth dropped open and the color drained from her cheeks. “Oh, Enrique!” She almost made a move toward him. “I’m so sorry!”

  With his head still turned in the direction of the slap, his cheek swelling pink from the contact, he reached up and touched his jaw.

  “I . . . I don’t know why I did that.” There was panic in her voice. She had never struck anyone in her life. Violence was a very serious sin. It went against everything that she had been raised to believe. How could God ever forgive her for striking someone in anger, even if that someone was Enrique? “Please. Are you all right?”

  She finally did reach out to touch his face, but he grabbed her wrist and twisted her arm away from him, causing her to cry out in pain.

  “Does that hurt? Princesa?” he said, forcing her backward. “¿Sí? Not very nice, is it?”

  She pressed her lips together. “You are hurting me, Enrique.”

  “Maybe that’s not a bad thing, Princesa.” This time he used a mocking tone when he spoke her nickname. With his body, he pressed her against the bar, standing far too close to her. “If you weren’t so coddled, you might find you like it,” he hissed into her ear.

  “You’re disgusting,” she managed to say.

  “That’s not what Celinda said.”

  Amanda tried to move away as Enrique released her, shoving her so that she stumbled to the floor just as Alejandro walked through the door.

  He stood there, just inside the doorway, staring first at Amanda and then Enrique, as if trying to make sense of what he had just witnessed. “What’s going on here?”

  Amanda scrambled to her feet and hurried over to him. She was too afraid to say anything as she stood next to Alejandro.

  He placed his arm around her protectively. “You are hurt?”

  She shook her head, but her wrist was already swelling and discolored.

  He kissed the side of her head and then gently pushed her behind him. Only then did he begin to approach Enrique.

  “You touched my wife?”

  Enrique glared at Alejandro. “She attacked me.”

  “That’s not true!” Amanda cried out.

  “She hit me,” Enrique said, pointing to his face. “For no reason.”

  Alejandro clenched his teeth, the muscles in his jaw tensing as he tried to assess the situation. Amanda watched, wide-eyed, as Alejandro turned back toward her. “You hit him, Amanda?”

  “I . . .”

  “Did you hit him?”

  She pressed her lips together and nodded her head.

  “I told you,” Enrique said, mumbling something under his breath in Spanish.

  At that moment Alejandro turned around, so quickly and with such force that his fist—making contact with Enrique’s jaw in the same place that Amanda had slapped him—sent Enrique backward and into the table by the sofa. The glass shattered and Amanda screamed. Before Enrique could get up, Alejandro leaned over him and grabbed Enrique’s shirt, pulling him to his feet.

  “I’ve had just about enough of you,” Alejandro said before he shoved Enrique, causing him to fall once again. Hovering over him, Alejandro pointed in his face. “A man does not touch another man’s wife!”

  “I barely touched her,” Enrique said.

  “I saw what I saw!” Alejandro bent down and grabbed Enrique, raising his fist once again when Amanda ran forward.

  “Stop! That’s enough!” She placed her hands on Alejandro’s shoulders, hoping to pull him away from Enrique. “Please, no
more . . . ,” she pleaded.

  Alejandro shook her off him, his attention focused completely on Enrique. She could see the anger in Alejandro’s eyes as he struck Enrique again. When blood started running out of his nose, Amanda screamed.

  The door to the hotel suite burst open and two men rushed into the room, both of them grabbing Alejandro and dragging him away from Enrique. Shortly after, a third man ran into the room and went to Enrique’s side.

  The men spoke so rapidly in German that she couldn’t understand them. It was only when both Alejandro and Enrique were placed into handcuffs that she realized the men who had entered the room were security.

  “You can’t arrest them!” she cried out, first in English and then in her fractured German. “It’s a big misunderstanding!”

  She tried to go to Alejandro, but one of the security guards blocked her, placing both of his hands on her shoulders to keep her from moving. Helplessly, she watched as security led Alejandro from the room. Outside the door, she could see more people were gathered in the corridor, mostly security along with hotel personnel. Nowhere did she see anyone from Alejandro’s team.

  Where was Andres? she thought. And Carlos and Eddie? If only they had been with Alejandro . . .

  “You need to go to the hospital,” the guard said, redirecting her thoughts. “Get that looked at by a doctor.”

  “I’m fine,” she replied, trying to move away from him once again.

  “You’re bleeding.” The guard pointed to Amanda’s head. As Amanda lifted her hand to her temple, she grimaced and looked at her fingertips. Indeed, blood covered her fingers, and she realized she must have hit her head when Enrique shoved her to the floor. She sat down on the sofa and covered her face with her hands just moments before she blacked out.

  “We have good news for you!”

  Amanda stared at the tall blonde woman standing next to her. “Where am I?”

  The woman smiled at her. “University Hospital, Mrs. Diaz. I’m Dr. Helbling.”

  “Why am I here?” Amanda sat up and looked around. She was in a hospital bed in what looked like a private room. “My husband? Where is he?”

  Dr. Helbling shook her head. “I’m sorry, I don’t know where he is. You came into the emergency room last evening, Mrs. Diaz. Your wrist needed attention, and you had a severe cut on your head. Are you feeling better? No headache?”

  The doctor watched Amanda as she reached up to touch the side of her head and felt a bandage.

  “Seven stitches, nothing too bad.”

  “I need to make a phone call,” Amanda said suddenly. She didn’t remember anything about coming to the hospital. All she remembered was Alejandro wanting her to call Geoffrey. She hadn’t. “How long have I been here?”

  The doctor glanced at the clock on the wall. “Not quite six hours. We put you in a private room. The emergency room filled up quickly. Seems you are quite popular, Mrs. Diaz.”

  Amanda sank back into the pillows and shut her eyes. “I need to get in touch with someone.”

  “Well, you are being released, if that helps. But before you go, I wanted to let you know that your wrist is only bruised and the baby is fine. We did an ultrasound and everything looks as it should be.”

  Amanda frowned as she stared at the doctor. Had she misheard her? “I . . . I think you are mistaken. I’m not pregnant.”

  Dr. Helbling shuffled through some papers on a clipboard, her eyes quickly scanning the documents. “I can assure you, Mrs. Diaz, that you are. I did the ultrasound myself. Looks like you are ten weeks . . . maybe a little further.”

  Amanda’s mind raced. How many pregnancy tests had she taken? Three? Four? All of them had turned up negative. “How is this possible?” she whispered, more to herself than to the doctor. “Not one of my tests said I was pregnant.”

  The doctor nodded. “Ah yes, the home pregnancy tests. Their reliability is usually impeccable, but whether it was a bad expiration date or a problem administering it, false negatives can occur.”

  “A problem administering it?” Amanda echoed. “It’s just a little stick!”

  The doctor gave a soft laugh. “Well, some people don’t realize that they have to pull the cap off before they test their urine.”

  Amanda froze. A cap? She had not considered that she needed to remove the cap before she dipped the stick into her urine sample. She thought backward, mentally trying to calculate where she was ten weeks ago. That was just around the time when Alejandro had visited her at the farm and, after a night of passion, snuck out to leave before dawn crested over the hill.

  Only he hadn’t left her alone. He had left her with a new life, a life they had created together just hours before he was planning on leaving her.

  “Are . . . are you sure?” Amanda asked. A baby, she thought. Her baby with Alejandro. What should have been a moment of joy, learning that she was finally pregnant, was filled with apprehension as she remembered that Alejandro was sitting in a jail cell, probably waiting for Geoffrey to show up, but Amanda had never made the phone call.

  The doctor placed her hand on Amanda’s arm. She smiled at her and said, “There is a heartbeat, Mrs. Diaz. I can assure you that you are, indeed, pregnant.”

  Amanda nodded, barely hearing the words the doctor said.

  “We’d like to observe you for a little while longer, let you rest. But we will release you later today. So try to get some sleep,” Dr. Helbling said as she started to walk to the door. Before leaving the room, however, she paused and looked back at Amanda. “And, by the way, congratulations.”

  Despite feeling tired and bruised, Amanda hadn’t been able to sleep, especially after she couldn’t reach Geoffrey, Charlotte, or even Dali. The nurses had promised to keep trying, urging her to sleep, but Amanda’s mind kept racing, worrying first about Alejandro and then trying to grasp the news that she was carrying his baby. The two conflicting thoughts held sleep at bay.

  Everything had been her fault. She knew she never should have lashed out at Enrique and struck him, letting anger drive her action. Oh, it was true indeed, she thought. A fool’s wrath is presently known: but a prudent man covereth shame. She had never felt such anger as when Enrique, after weeks of his crude teasing and looks, even his gestures, had made a comment about Celinda. But she could hardly believe that her anger could force her to raise a hand and strike another person.

  What has happened to me? she wondered. When had she lost her way from the values of her youth?

  And Alejandro. She felt another wave of guilt that her actions had caused him so much trouble. They were supposed to leave that day for the last three concerts. Surely he would not make it in time to catch his flight, if at all. She knew nothing of the court systems in America and even less about those of Europe, if the situation wound up there.

  And then she remembered the unexpected news that she was pregnant.

  She placed her hands on her midsection, slowly caressing her belly. Over the past few weeks, she had noticed that her clothes were snug, but she attributed it to the travel and not eating properly and so much water retention. Now, as she lay in the hospital bed, she tried to think back to the last time she had had her period. It was before leaving South America. In fact, she had all but forgotten about it, the constant travel and busy schedules distracting her from something so important.

  She tried to count backward, but couldn’t. Was it possible that she had been pregnant that entire time while they were in Colombia, Brazil, and Argentina? She had been so tired on the farm, but she never thought twice about it. Between Isadora and the chores, not to mention her stress over Alejandro, it was understandable that she was exhausted.

  “Amanda!” The door opened and Geoffrey rushed into the room. With his disheveled hair and wrinkled shirt, he appeared worn-out, clearly not having slept through the night. “I came as fast a I could.” He glanced down at her and saw her arm. His expression changed. “Are you all right?”

  She looked down and saw the large purple bruise that
covered her wrist and part of her forearm. “It happened so fast,” she started. “I was sleeping and Enrique let himself in. He . . . he said that he was to meet with Alejandro, and he wouldn’t leave. He kept asking me questions and . . .” She paused, not wanting to identify her friend, but she needed to tell Geoffrey everything so that he could get Alejandro released. “He said something . . . something disgusting and awful, about Celinda.”

  Geoffrey’s expression changed from worry to irritation. He took a deep breath and began to shake his head.

  “I . . .” She could barely say the words. “I acted out of anger and slapped him.”

  Geoffrey shut his eyes.

  “I know that I shouldn’t have, and I’m ever so sorry . . .”

  “What happened next, Amanda?”

  “Enrique . . . he grabbed me and twisted my arm.” She saw Geoffrey open his eyes and look down at her wrist. His eyes narrowed as the irritation in his face increased. “He shoved me just as Alejandro walked in and . . . and I don’t know what happened. The next thing I knew, Alejandro was on top of Enrique and there was blood and the door burst open with security and . . .” She started crying again. “They just took him away, and there was nothing I could do!” A sob escaped. “And then I . . . I must have passed out.”

  Geoffrey stopped her by placing his hands on her shoulders and looking into her eyes. “Listen to me, Amanda. I have something I need to tell you.”

  She blinked, feeling the wetness of tears in her eyes once again. “It’s all my fault, isn’t it?”

  “Amanda, you need to go back home,” Geoffrey said. “Your father.”

  “My . . . my daed?” None of this made sense. Too much was happening at once, and she couldn’t process it. “What does my daed have to do with this?”