by Price, Sarah
He shook his head, amused at her response. “Ay, Princesa, you never cease to amaze me.” He took a long swig of his beer and smacked his lips together. “Ah. ¡Qué refresco!” Then, setting the beer on the table, he withdrew his smartphone from his pocket and sank down onto the sofa. His fingers moved over the touchscreen as he started to check his messages, stopping for a moment to glance at her. “And, Princesa, I can assure you that before we leave on Friday evening, you will take a bath in that tub.”
She gasped and he smiled, turning his attention back to his phone and away from the shocked expression his wife wore.
She felt uncomfortable in the tight, form-fitting off-white gown that Jeremy had picked out for her and, to her dismay, insisted she wear.
“It’s Versace, Amanda!” Jeremy exclaimed when she had first tried on the dress and scowled at her reflection in the mirror. With his clipped French accent, he always sounded as though he was talking at her instead of to her, as if she were a child. “Most women would kill to wear a gown like this.” He opened his eyes wide and pressed his hand against his own chest. “I would kill to wear this gown.”
“It exposes so much skin though,” she complained, looking in the mirror.
She could see Jeremy roll his eyes in the reflection in the mirror.
“That’s what they want to see!”
“Ja, vell, I don’t like them seeing it!”
Jeremy put both hands on his hips and stared her down. “You are wearing that dress. It’s important that you do, Amanda. And wear it with style and grace! No slouching.”
Her mouth fell open, and she wanted to point out that she already had had posture lessons from Stedman earlier in the year. But rather than speak back to him, she remained silent.
Now, as Alejandro guided her along the red carpet to the entrance of the gala, she reminded herself to walk with grace and keep her shoulders straight. The gown flowed onto the carpet behind her, just enough so that she knew she’d be worried all night that someone would step on it. The front of the dress had a slit that went all the way up to the middle of her thigh, and there were patterns of sequins that made it appear as though she were wrapped in the leaves of a graceful vine.
Whether or not she personally cared for the dress, she certainly knew that it was breathtaking, especially after Alejandro’s reaction earlier that evening. His eyes had lit up as he pressed his lips together, fighting the urge to say something. Truly, he hadn’t needed to say anything. His expression said it all. When he gave her his arm to escort her down to the lobby and out to the limousine that waited for them, he had covered her hand with his and whispered, “Esplendida, Princesa,” into her ear.
Remembering his warm breath on her neck, she felt the quickening of her pulse and looked at him as they approached an opening on the red carpet. He seemed to read her mind and stopped walking, pausing to meet her gaze. His blue eyes traveled her body from head to toe, and when he met her gaze again, he lifted her hand to his lips, gently kissing her skin.
“Now it is all about you, mi amor,” he said in a low voice so that no one else could hear. Then, to her surprise, Alejandro released her arm and stepped aside. She looked at him, confused as to why he moved away from her. But as the photographers swarmed in, kneeling before her and snapping photographs while she stood alone in the center of the red carpet, she immediately understood she was expected to pose for the cameras upon entering the gala.
Once she rejoined Alejandro, he smiled and whispered, “Well done, Princesa.”
They were stopped once more as they walked up the red-carpeted stairs, this time by photographers who wanted pictures of them together. Amanda stood and gave a wistful smile, the back of her dress draped down two stairs below her, as the photographers took their photo. Alejandro stood beside her with his hands behind his back as he watched her.
“And what, exactly, is this gala for?” Amanda asked once they were inside.
“They sell paintings to raise money for the arts,” he said.
“For the arts?”
He nodded to someone who passed by and paused to shake the hand of two other men. “Sí, Princesa, the arts. The entertainment industry.”
Before she could ask another question, a familiar face approached them.
“Viper! Amanda!”
Justin Bell stood before them, wearing black pants and a black shirt with a gold-and-silver-embroidered jacket. While Alejandro whistled and commented on “his threads,” all Amanda could think about was Celinda and Enrique.
“Thought you were in South America, man,” Alejandro said as he gave Justin a friendly hug.
“Flew back for this.” He glanced at Amanda. “Looking lovely as ever, Mrs. Viper,” he said, his boyish charm not lost on her. “Or should I call you Mrs. Royalty of Rap?” He pretended to bow before her, moving his hand in a flourish.
“I’d prefer you didn’t,” she said, embarrassed at the attention drawn by Justin Bell’s dramatic greeting.
With a big smile, he laughed and stood up straight, giving her a quick hug before he turned his attention back to Alejandro. “And you. Thought you were in Europe tearing up the charts.”
“Sí, sí, same as you, my friend. Flew back between concerts.” A man walked by carrying a tray of champagne flutes and Alejandro gestured to him, taking one and giving it to Amanda. She gladly accepted it and lifted it to her lips.
“Been hearing some stories about your tour,” Justin said with a teasing tone in his voice that did not mirror the look in his eyes. Amanda bit her lower lip and wondered how Alejandro would address the unspoken question.
Alejandro, however, did not take the bait. Instead, he shot right back, “Sí, and I hear the same about yours.”
Justin removed his sunglasses and ran his fingers through his hair, which somehow remained perfectly coiffed. “Aw, Viper, you know the media. They’re bound to make anything up.”
“Be careful, man,” Alejandro warned. “The public can turn on you faster than a dog attack. Some of those stories . . .” He shook his head. “Focus on the goal, amigo.”
“Aw, you always used to say it’s not the destination but the journey!”
Alejandro gave a short laugh. “Not when it comes to your image, chico. Don’t mess with that.”
Apparently tired of that conversation, Justin gave a playful eye roll and turned to wink at Amanda. “Heard you had some company on the tour, eh?”
At first she wasn’t certain whom he was addressing: her or Alejandro. She lifted the champagne one more time to her lips, tasting the smooth bubbles against her tongue. But when Alejandro remained silent and she realized that Justin was staring at her, she knew she had no choice but to answer him.
“Ja, if you mean Celinda.”
The way that Justin’s face lit up at the mention of her name told Amanda all that she needed to know. He was still head over heels in love with her. As she realized it, her heart broke for the two of them. With Justin on one continent and Celinda on another, staying together would certainly be hard. But the rumors of what both of them were doing while apart made Amanda realize how fragile relationships were in this industry.
“She doing alright?”
Amanda took a third sip of champagne and nodded her head.
“Thing is . . .” Justin rubbed at the back of his neck, glancing around at a small crowd of people who stood nearby. He nodded his head at one of them before he moved closer to Amanda and lowered his voice. “Been hearing stories, you know? Something about her and that Enrique guy.” He made a face and shook his head. “Not good, man.” He glanced at Alejandro. “You know what I mean, right?”
Alejandro took a deep breath and gave a stiff shrug. “What I do know is that I don’t get involved in that business, Justin.” Then he reached over and took Amanda’s champagne glass, raising an eyebrow at her as he took a long, slow sip. “It’ll go to your head,” he whispered to her. “Don’t drink it so fast.”
Already her head felt as if she were floating j
ust a little. She felt light on her feet and found it easier to smile at people she didn’t know. Unlike the previous events she’d been to with Alejandro, events where women openly glared at her and refused to speak with her, Amanda found that she was constantly in the center of a small crowd of people. When Alejandro left her to go mingle with some people he knew, the liquid gold of the champagne gave her the courage to interact with the other guests without him, posing for photos and listening to their stories. She remembered the night in Los Angeles on the yacht, and with the same determination, she focused on the people she interacted with, asking them questions about themselves and making the effort to listen to their responses.
Before she realized it, Alejandro was back at her side to escort her to their table. With a clearer head, thanks to losing the champagne glass, Amanda greeted his return with a warm smile and happily accepted his arm.
“I want to warn you,” he said in a low voice but with a broad grin on his lips, acknowledging people he knew as they passed, “that Richard Gray is here and seated at our table.”
Amanda almost stopped on the carpet. “That awful man from Los Angeles?” she asked.
“Sí, the one and the same,” Alejandro answered with a soft chuckle. “The one that is funding your contract, as well as mine, and the one that is, perhaps, the most powerful man in the industry. Sí, that one.”
“Oh.”
“My advice is to pretend that the confrontation never happened. Present him with your most beautiful of smiles and most charming attention.”
Amanda sighed. “If I must.”
“Oh sí, you must,” Alejandro said. “You are sitting next to him.”
She didn’t have time to plead for a new seat, for no sooner had he whispered it than they were standing at the round table draped with golden linens and adorned with tall centerpieces filled with magnificent white flowers. She recognized the man right away and almost stumbled, but Alejandro tightened his hold on her hand.
With more grace than Amanda thought she could muster, she watched as Richard stood up to greet Alejandro.
“You remember Amanda, sí?” Alejandro stepped aside as he presented Amanda.
Richard raised his eyebrows, his eyes opening wide as if amused, while he tilted his head and nodded. “Of course,” he said pleasantly. “How could I not remember our meeting in Los Angeles?” He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “I’ve been hearing nothing but good things, Amanda, from the tour. I’m quite pleased with our”—he hesitated for a long moment, his hand still clutching hers—“investment.”
Her mouth felt dry and she glanced at Alejandro, hoping he would guide her in how to respond. But by the amused expression on his face, she knew he had zero intention of doing so. For the second time that evening, Amanda wished she could hide behind the champagne flute that Alejandro had snuck away from her.
“I . . . I’m glad that you are pleased,” she managed to say. “It’s been quite an interesting few weeks.”
Richard nodded. “So I heard. Whatever it is you are doing, keep it up. Social media is exploding, sales are continuing to increase, and the entertainment world is buzzing over this coupling.”
She cringed at his word choice, as if they were two animals put together in a cage with the hopes they’d attract more visitors to the zoo.
“And the VMAs, Alejandro,” Richard said, returning his attention to him. “They want the two of you to host it.”
Alejandro gave a loud shout and, ignoring the people who turned to see who was making such a ruckus, wrapped Amanda in a quick hug. “Now they’re getting it!”
“I don’t understand what that means . . . ,” Amanda said.
Richard leaned over so that she could hear him clearly. “It means that the two of you together are taking the music industry by storm.” He gestured to the server. “Champagne for the table and”—he looked at Alejandro—“two vodkas on the rocks.”
“The VMAs!” Alejandro could hardly contain his enthusiasm. “Do you realize, Princesa, that you will be the first person to host the music awards who is not a singer or an actor? This is unprecedented. A year ago they barely knew who you were. Now they want us to host the show?”
“So this is gut?”
At this, Richard laughed and shook his head. “Is she for real?” he asked.
Amanda detected no malice in his voice.
“Princesa,” Alejandro started, “it means they think we can increase ratings in a way that no one else can. It also gives amazing exposure to my music. So, sí, it’s a very good thing!”
The champagne arrived at the table. As Richard handed her a glass, the server offered champagne to the other people seated at the table.
“Let’s make a toast,” Richard said, his voice loud enough to capture the attention of several other tables filled with people. “To the Royalty of Rap, Viper and his Princesa!”
Amanda followed Alejandro’s example and lifted her glass so that he could touch his glass to hers.
“Cheers, mi amor,” he said, his eyes sparkling at her as he watched her raise her champagne flute to her lips. “May the reign long continue,” he said before leaning over and planting a kiss on Amanda’s lips, lingering just long enough for the nearby photographers to snap a picture.
Chapter Eighteen
Prague. It was a beautiful city with old buildings surrounding a cobblestoned town center in which the residents gathered to sit outdoors drinking coffee or beer while watching horse-drawn carriages pass by and street performers entertain the crowds with magic tricks. Three- and four-story buildings surrounded the large public gathering area, but none surpassed the tall church with the massive astronomical clock. Each hour it put on a show of the moving figures of the apostles, as well as other figures. When Amanda learned that the clock dated back to the early 1400s, she stared at it with renewed amazement—both at the antiquity of the clock tower and her husband’s extensive knowledge of history.
“You really do enjoy medieval history, ja?” she asked, her arm tucked into his as she walked beside him along the streets.
Her surprise seemed to amuse him, and he smiled mischievously, raising one eyebrow. “You did not believe me?”
“I just did not know that about you before this tour,” she answered honestly.
“Ah, Princesa,” he purred. “There is nothing new under the sun, therefore we should study the past to understand the future, sí?”
She laughed. “Are you quoting Scripture to me now?”
Before he could answer, a burly man with a large camera stood a few yards away from them to take a photo. Realizing that they were being photographed, Amanda looked up in surprise. It didn’t take long for a small group of people to begin gathering, staring as Alejandro took her elbow in his hand and they continued walking through the center of town.
“Do they really have to do that?” Despite flying first class, Amanda felt unusually tired and irritable after their trip back to Europe from New York City. The flight had not been direct, and between the change of planes at Heathrow Airport and the throngs of people who recognized them, Amanda found herself resenting the intrusion of the public. While she enjoyed seeing the amazing city of Prague, she was increasingly tired of never having a moment of uninterrupted time with Alejandro, unless, of course, they were locked in their hotel room.
To her surprise, Alejandro seemed unperturbed. He continued walking, ignoring the gawking people who recognized them in the best preserved city of Europe. Several people called out “Viper,” so Alejandro responded by lifting his hand and waving in that general direction.
“Do they have to do that?” Alejandro repeated. “I suppose they do. They are, after all, fans, no? That’s what fans do.”
“Just once,” she said. “One day without it would be nice.”
Alejandro chuckled at her reaction. “Is this my Princesa, the reigning queen of rap, complaining? The very person who loves to interact with the public?”
“I never said I love it.”
<
br /> He stopped walking long enough to cup her chin in his hand and lean down to kiss her lips. “But you do, Princesa. I know you do.”
Regardless of her love for talking with Alejandro’s fans, Amanda couldn’t shake the feeling of being irritated with the constant interruptions from every direction. If it wasn’t fans, it was Alejandro’s entourage of people who constantly texted, e-mailed, or merely barged in on their time.
For once, they were enjoying a leisurely day before his concert that evening. They were being regular people, even if only for a few hours. She had basked in the luxury of enjoying an outing alone with Alejandro, but she knew it would quickly deteriorate if a mob developed.
But she held her tongue and focused on the little time she had left in Alejandro’s company before they were interrupted again.
He gestured toward a restaurant with a heavy wooden overhang that provided some shade from the sun. Without waiting for her response, began to lead her there. “You like the city, sí?”
Amanda nodded, trying to relax. “Of course. How could I not?”
It was beautiful, perhaps just as much as Paris. The one difference she had noticed during their short stay was that the people were not as aloof as the Parisians. Until now she had enjoyed that rare privacy.
“It’s a special place,” he said.
Amanda couldn’t agree more. “To think that all of this was here while I was growing up . . . It’s amazing, ja? Right now, what are Anna and Jonas doing on the farm? Isadora? We are thousands of miles away in a whole different world while they are on the farm and working, birds chirping and flying over the clothesline.”
“It’s Sunday,” he pointed out.
“Then they are at church, sitting on the benches and listening to the hymns. The room is probably stuffy unless someone has mercy and opens the windows,” she said.
It seemed like a lifetime ago that she had been one of them, spending three hours worshipping God through the slow chant-like singing of the Ausbund hymns. She could almost hear the voices lifting together as they slowly sang each line in harmony, one hymn taking thirty minutes or more to complete just the first few verses.
