by Sarah Price
“Why what, Princesa?”
“Why did you come for me?” He didn’t answer right away, so she continued. “This is a lot for you, I can see that. It’s a lot for me, too. I have much to learn and if I learn it, you might not like what you see,” she said.
“Shh,” he responded, placing a finger to his lips with a gentle shake of his head. He set his wineglass down on the table and reached his hand across the table for hers. “Let’s not speak but dance.” He didn’t wait for her to answer as he stood, reaching for her to take his hand. With his crisp black pants and shirt, he was dark as he stood before her. Dancing, she thought. Another banned Amish activity. Yet it wouldn’t be the first time she had danced with him, and the memory of that afternoon at the farm caused her to feel as if butterflies fluttered in her stomach.
She couldn’t help herself as she reached out to accept his hand. Carefully, so that she wouldn’t fall, she stood. “I don’t know how to dance, remember?” she whispered into his ear.
“You will tonight,” he replied and led her onto the dance floor.
The room seemed to fall silent when they walked onto the floor. He pulled her into his arms, mindful of the fact that she was wearing higher shoes than usual. He cradled her in his arms and held her tightly. Nestling his lips against her neck, he murmured, “Just follow my lead, Princesa.”
She didn’t know what that meant, but as usual, she trusted him.
He moved slowly, his arms draped around her in a way that held her to his body. She had never been this close to anyone before this evening. If she hadn’t been so aware of people watching their every move, she would have probably fled. But all of those eyes watching Amanda dance with Alejandro forced her to continue moving across the floor. He held her tightly, his body towering over hers in a way that was both protective and seductive at the same time.
She shut her eyes and tried to remember that memorable day in the grossdaadihaus when he had tried to teach her how to dance. She could feel his body move against hers, the emotion of the moment causing her blood to race and her knees to feel weak. He was strong, that was for certain. But he was also very gentle in how he held her. There was no force in his movements, and he glided across the floor, taking her with him in a way that could only be elegant because of his physical beauty on the floor.
“Oh,” she whispered in his ear.
“Tranquilo,” he responded. “They are adoring you. Let them, Amanda. For you are beautiful and deserving,” he said, his breath caressing her ear.
Beautiful and deserving. Those were two words she had never heard in regard to herself. Beautiful was in the eyes of the Lord, not people. And deserving? Of what? She had been taught from the earliest age that deserving was only reserved for those who followed God. She didn’t feel as though she was following God right now, not after having tasted wine and especially how she was being held in the arms of a man who was clearly not her husband.
“I can’t do this,” she whispered.
“¿Qué?” He pulled back from her but did not loosen his hold. “What?” he repeated in English. “What is wrong?”
“This is too much, Alejandro,” she replied softly, avoiding his gaze. “It’s too much too soon.”
He nuzzled against her cheek. “I will not do anything to you, Princesa. You are a gift from God. I will cherish it and never abuse it.”
Gift from God? His words tore at her. Did he realize what he was doing? Or how she felt? She tried to back away, but his hold was too tight. “Alejandro, I’m not comfortable like this,” she said.
“Shh,” he whispered. “Stop and enjoy the moment.” He continued to hold her and move across the dance floor. Every eye in the restaurant was upon them. She could feel the heat of their stares. “This is what they need. They need to see that you are no different than they are,” he murmured softly.
His words caressed her ears as his breath brushed across her neck. She tried to do as he instructed, following the movement of his body against hers as they danced, slowly and with simple steps. The way he directed her across the floor, holding her in his arms and, with the slightest of pressure, silently telling her where to move, was like a floating dream.
It was a dream. She simply could not believe what was happening to her. Just two days before, she didn’t know whether he was going to show up at the farm. She certainly did not imagine that he would whisk her away into a magical world that she didn’t even know existed. A world of fancy stores and personal shoppers, and evenings of candlelit dinners with music and dancing.
“You are crying?” he asked, pulling back in surprise.
She shook her head but couldn’t hide the tears starting to invade her eyes.
“¿Por qué, Princesa?” When she looked at him, he smiled and, with his thumb, brushed the tears away. “Why?” he asked in English.
“This is too much to take in,” she whispered, tucking her head down into his shoulder. “I . . . I just feel overwhelmed.”
He stopped dancing and placed his finger under her chin. Tilting her head, he stared down into her eyes. “Remember the goal,” he whispered and, gently, leaned down to just lightly brush his lips against hers.
Her knees felt weak, and she had to cling to his shoulders to keep from stumbling in the high heels that pinched her toes. He seemed to sense this and kept his arm tight around her waist.
“Whether you return or stay, it will be your decision, my Princesa,” he said softly, the corner of his mouth lifted in a hint of a smile. No one could hear the words except her. To the casual watcher, he was whispering sweet words of love. Amanda realized that, yet again, he was playing the fans and, indeed, giving them what they wanted. “Not theirs,” he finished; then, releasing her waist, he held her hand and led her back to their table.
Chapter Five
The following morning, he asked her to his room. He had called on the telephone at seven in the morning. With a brisk and cheerful hello, he had instructed her that she should join him for breakfast; when she was ready, she could knock at the door separating their rooms.
Unlike her room, he explained, his was a suite. He had called for room service to deliver breakfast, rather than face the staring guests who, by now, were clamoring downstairs, lingering in hopes of spotting Viper and Amanda together.
She had knocked hesitatingly at the door of his adjoining room. To her surprise, another man opened it and greeted her. She recognized him from the previous evening and seemed to recall that his name was Carlos. She was quickly learning that Alejandro was rarely alone. He had a small group of men who surrounded him, usually in the background, in order to keep the mass of fans and onlookers away from him.
She smiled a silent greeting and dipped her head as she walked past him.
“This way, Amanda,” he said and led her through the sitting area and into a large sunny room with a balcony. In the center of the room was a round table covered with a white cloth and fresh flowers in the center. White roses, she noticed, and simply gorgeous.
“¡Buenos días, Princesa!”
Startled, she turned toward the open doors that led to the balcony. He was standing there in white slacks and a salmon-colored shirt, unbuttoned so that she could see the top of his white undershirt. He wore his sunglasses, hiding his eyes from her, and held a tall fluted glass of something yellow with bubbles.
He walked toward her and set the glass on the table. Then he gave her a friendly embrace, kissing her cheeks in the customary greeting of Cubans. “You slept well, sí?”
She nodded.
“Good, good,” he said, smiling. “And you look lovely. Again.” He held her at arm’s length and spun her before him. She felt like a doll on display, not quite certain that she liked the feeling. “Lucinda has a theme, I see. Black. Plain and simple yet smart.” He clucked his tongue. “And very becoming.” He reached for his glass and raised it to his lips, peering at her
from behind his sunglasses as he said, “Today is a big day for you. You will fly across the land to the most beautiful state in the country. California!”
Her heart palpitated at the reminder.
“Now, let’s sit and eat.” He guided her toward the table and, ever the gentleman, pulled out a chair for her.
“What time is this plane ride?” she asked, her voice trembling at the thought.
He sat beside her and laid the napkin across his lap. “We will leave for the airport soon after breakfast. I want to prepare you for what will happen, Amanda.” He reached for the silver dome that covered the food and lifted it. “Something simple today for you. Eggs and bacon.”
She smiled and blushed. “I’m not used to this.”
“Get used to it, Princesa,” he said, setting the dome aside. “This is what you wanted to experience.”
“You said I would hate you.”
He laughed. “Oh, that will come, trust me. Which is why I want to prepare you.”
She served herself from the plate of eggs. “Prepare me for . . . ?”
He cleared his throat and placed his elbow on the table. “There will be a scene at the airport. My people already warned me that crowds are gathering, waiting for our arrival at Philadelphia International. We have a private jet taking us to Los Angeles, so we won’t have to worry about the actual flight arrival, but getting to the plane will be a mob scene, probably worse than anything you have experienced so far.”
The color drained from her face. “Will it be safe?”
“Sí,” he said. He glanced at Carlos. “Mi gente will be there protecting us. So will the airport security.” He leveled his gaze at her. “They will be taking photos, shoving, and doing everything they can to attract our attention. Especially your attention. I will be beside you, and the security detail will keep them away. But just be prepared, Amanda. And it will be even worse in LA.”
Her appetite was gone.
“Why?”
He shrugged. “It’s part of the role, Princesa. Here, look at these.” He reached down and pulled several newspapers and pieces of paper from the floor. Every single one of them contained a photograph . . . a photograph of her. Her and Alejandro. Photographs of her shopping. Photographs of her waiting for him. Photographs of him admiring her in the lobby. And photographs of them dancing.
“Where did you get these?”
“Some were from the newspapers. Otherwise from the Internet. People are devouring you.” He leaned back in his chair and smiled at her. “You are a media sensation.”
She frowned. “I thought you said it would die down.”
Again, he shrugged. “It takes time, Amanda. Enjoy it while you can. You are topping the charts as a bona fide celebrity.” He winked at her. “Take the good with the bad.” He reached for the serving bowl of food to dish some onto his own plate. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you miss it later. The life and the attention,” he clarified. “Should you choose to return to Lititz.”
“Did you miss it?” she asked. “When you were at my parents’ farm?”
He laughed, a hearty laugh. “Ay, Princesa, you are good. Very good, mi amor.” He glanced at his cell phone, which vibrated on the table next to his plate. Without thinking, he reached for it as he answered her. “Sí, I did miss it. Only I didn’t realize it until after I returned for you.” Then, the phone to his ear, his attention was diverted to the person on the other end of the call.
Speaking rapidly in both English and Spanish, Alejandro seemed to forget that she was there. He punctuated things that he said with his free hand in the air, as if making a point to the person on the other end of the phone, even though no one but Amanda could see him. His animation and ability to switch back and forth between the two languages amused her, and she found herself listening, trying desperately to pick up a few words here and there.
But she understood nothing.
When he set the phone back on the table, he stared at her thoughtfully, drumming his fingers on the tabletop.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Good news and bad news,” he said slowly. “The paparazzi have left your parents’ farm.”
She clapped her hands and smiled. “That’s fantastic news, Alejandro! It worked! My parents won’t be shunned, and they can go back to living again!” She looked relieved and the glow in her eyes spoke volumes. “This has all been worth it!”
He pursed his lips as he watched her. “That was the good news,” he started. “The bad news is that they are sending a police escort to take us to the airport.”
Her happiness quickly drained. “A what?”
“Police escort. They need police to accompany our car when we leave. The sidewalk outside of the hotel is jammed, and there are people waiting outside of the airport. News crews, too. It’s not just the paparazzi anymore, and that means it will take a bit longer.” He didn’t look pleased with this news. “It also means that it will be even worse than I thought.”
He spoke over his shoulder in Spanish, and the young man, Carlos, hurried over to his side. She listened to them speaking, amazed at the singsong quality of the language. It was beautiful and so very different from both English and Pennsylvania Dutch with lots of essh sounds that reminded her of a wind through the high branches of a tree back at the farm.
“¡Bueno!” Alejandro said and nodded at Carlos. “That will work, sí.”
When Carlos left, Amanda leaned over and lowered her voice. “Who is he?”
He glanced in the direction from where Carlos had just disappeared. “Carlos?” He folded his napkin and set it beside his plate. “My personal assistant when I travel. At home, I have Rodriego, but on the road Carlos is better suited for dealing with security detail and logistics. Speaking of which, he will pack up your things and send them to the airport separately. We should get going now.”
He paused, just for a moment, after he stood up. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled something out and, with a smile on his face, handed it to her. “I almost forgot. Something for you to put in that handbag that Lucinda most certainly had you buy. Gucci, I imagine, knowing Lucinda.”
Amanda reached out and looked at the small rectangular device that he handed to her. “What is it?”
“Your very own gadget to play with,” he said, chuckling at the way she held it, so delicately, as if it was going to hurt her.
She tried not to smile as she studied it. “A cell phone?” she looked up at him, a look of wonder on her face. “Whatever would I need that for? I don’t have all of those people to speak to like you do! It won’t even be used! No one will call it!”
He wagged a finger at her. “Someone will call it.”
“Who?”
“Me!”
She laughed at the expression on his face. “Well, in that case,” she replied, staring at the shiny glass on top of the phone. “I suppose you will have to give me lessons on how to use this . . . this contraption!”
“Later, sí,” he said, guiding her back to her room. “Now we must get going, Princesa.”
If Amanda had thought that he was exaggerating about the crowds, she realized that he had probably downplayed it more than anything else. She could see the crowds outside the door before they even approached it. Through the smoky glass, crowds of people were waiting, their arms stretched over their heads with cell phones poised for that one photo opportunity that they knew was headed their way.
She clutched at his arm and stopped walking. “What are they waiting for?”
He leaned over and whispered in her ear, “Us.”
Her free hand flew to her open mouth while her other hand clung to his. He took a deep breath, straightening his jacket and pushing his sunglasses back on his nose. Wrapping his arm around Amanda protectively, he nodded to the security guards at the door. With that, the doors were open and a roar came from outside.
“Vámanos,” he said softly and headed toward the throngs of people waiting outside, guiding her along the way.
Arms were outstretched. People were screaming. Girls and women, she realized. It was mostly girls and women. They were reaching out to touch him, to touch Viper. Others were reaching out to her but Amanda had no idea why. Clearly, they were not interested in her.
One of the security guards quickly positioned himself to Amanda’s right, protectively putting his body between her and the crowds. She cowered closer to Alejandro, thankful that he still kept his arm wrapped around her. She felt safe and protected in his embrace. Without a doubt, Alejandro would not let anything or anyone harm her.
Ahead of them, someone kept the path clear to where the sedan was waiting, door open. Alejandro paused by the door and waited for Amanda to get inside. She stumbled and fell against the car, but he reached out a hand to steady her. Within seconds, he was seated next to her and the door was slammed shut. The car hurried away and the crowd was left behind.
Amanda turned in the seat and stared out the back window. The people were still jumping up and down, screaming and taking photographs with their cameras and phones. Outrageous, she thought, as she settled back into the seat next to Alejandro, wondering why anyone would act so crazy for a silly photograph.
It wasn’t the first time that a car had cut off her father’s buggy, and as far as Amanda knew, it certainly wouldn’t be the last. She never could understand why so many thousands and thousands of tourists flocked to Lancaster County to gawk and stare at the Amish. Even worse, she couldn’t understand why some people, themselves residents of Lancaster County, treated the Amish so poorly, teasing them, mocking them, and even endangering their safety.
Without fail, there were several accidents each year involving cars driving too close to the buggies. Horses and people were injured and died at an alarming rate. Young locals liked to speed past the buggies and cut right in front of them, spooking the horses and often running them off the road.
