Behind Her Smile (26 page)

Adriana Martinez prowls into the room, wearing an expertly cut white sundress and an oversized Goyard tote on her shoulder. She should be at a charity luncheon, not in this sterile hospital room.

“What are you doing here?” I blurt without thought for how rude I may come across.
Your days of following made-up rules are over. David’s demands are worthless to you.
Despite the inward reminder, I can’t help but wonder . . .

“Oh, Karolina.” Adriana doesn’t succeed in holding back a trickle of tears. She tosses her handbag on a vacant chair and sits next to my knee. She places one hand on my calf hidden by the thin hospital bedding, her expression a mix of devastation and horror. “If you’ll allow it, I’d like to be your friend. A real friend, not like one of those ladies who lunch faux relationships.”

“Adriana, I don’t know which way is up.”

“That’s why you need a true friend now more than ever. Hector and I want to help you in any way we can. Starting with bringing you home to our house from the hospital.” I stare at her in unabashed shock. I hadn’t begun to think about where I would go once I was discharged. My immediate, visceral reaction is
there’s no way I’ll go back to that house.
What about Miranda and Carlo? Surely, they are wondering what’s going on. I’ll need to call them and . . . My God, what am I going to do?

Adriana tentatively covers my hand with hers. Her motherly touch is petal soft and incredibly comforting. Instantly, my spiraling thoughts slow down. “There’s much to be decided. You don’t have to do it alone.”

For once, I know that someone truly, truly wants to support me.

I shatter.

Fat tears roll down my cheeks, and a shuddering sob makes my shoulders twitch.
Alone, alone, alone.
Even with David, I was alone. Adriana wants my friendship. It’s almost too much to comprehend.

When the other woman collects me into her arms, pressing me close, I nod against her. “Please, please help me.”

Alec

A
driana exits Karolina’s room clutching a handkerchief to her breast. She gives me a hard stare where I wait with Hector. “Don’t you dare push her,” she says sternly. “Karolina needs to be handled with care.”

I ignore the implication that I would harm Karolina.
Never.
“Does she know I’m waiting to see her?” Adriana and Hector joined me in the hospital waiting room an hour or so ago. Last night, once Hector got a tip from his inside friend at the FBI, he let me know Karolina was being taken to the hospital. I parked myself in the waiting room at midnight and haven’t left for a shower or coffee break. My nerves are steadily fraying. If I don’t see Karolina in the next few minutes, I’ll lose my mind.

Seven days have never seemed longer than the ones I spent waiting for the FBI to make their move on David. It felt like I was chained to my office, hardly leaving the place because work was the only thing that could keep me from driving across town and stealing Karolina away from her pain and suffering. That was until Adriana showed up and dragged me first to a barber to get my hair under control and then to dinner with her husband. Some of the tension I carried with me abated with I found out Adriana wanted to support Karolina nearly as much as I do.

Adriana walks straight into her husband’s waiting arms. She moves to kiss him on the cheek, murmuring something I cannot hear. Hector tightens his hold on Adriana, trying to soothe his wife’s distress. Still in the safety of her husband’s embrace, Adriana turns her face toward me. “Before you go in there, you should know she’s a shadow of herself. Thank God almighty she agreed to our help because I don’t know what she would do if let out on her own.”

I have no right to take ownership over Karolina’s well-being, but proprietary be damned. It’s a huge relief that Karolina’s not letting pride get in the way of a friend reaching out during her time of need.

Nodding shortly to Adriana and Hector, I stride to the door and enter the room. The stale, medicinal scent of the hallway carries into the hospital room. Bland white walls make for a boring, lifeless room. The opposite of what I would consider beneficial to healing.

There in the center of the room stands a narrow hospital bed. Thankfully, this is a private room, so no one is able to intrude on Karolina’s tragedy. My gaze falls on Karolina, and I hold back a sharp intake of breath. For as long as I’ve known Karolina, I would describe her as full of life. From the bounce of her long, shiny dark hair to the sparkle of playfulness in her deep brown eyes to her general aura of intelligence and kindness.

This Karolina lies limply in the half-raised bed. Bruises mar her cheeks, fingerprints ring her throat, and her left eye is nearly swollen shut. Even though her skin is still smooth and tanned, she lacks the infusion of life. She’s pale, slumping into the bed.

“Are you the last surprise guest?” she asks not unkindly but with a level of defeat I’ve never heard from her. The impact is devastating and infuriating. If David Morgan weren’t in a cell somewhere, I would take pleasure in torturing him until he begged for mercy. And then I’d kill him.

Without waiting for an invitation, I sit next to her hip and take her hand in mine. “I don’t know what to say,” I confess. Because there’s no way Karolina is ready to hear what I really want to tell her.

“There’s nothing to say,” she says numbly. “Excuse me if I’m being impolite, but I can’t understand, after our last exchange, why you would be at my hospital bedside. I got what I deserved, right?” I stare at her in alarm. The words should be delivered sardonically—she shouldn’t believe them as she so clearly does.

“No, Karolina. You didn’t deserve any of this—not my unforgivable vitriol and not any of the horror David put you through. None of it. You took the worst of my pain, and I beg you to forgive me.” I lace our fingers together and bend down kiss each of her knuckles.

“There’s nothing to forgive.” No inflection colors Karolina’s dull words.

“Perhaps that is what you believe. But you’re only strengthening my resolve to show you I need to earn your forgiveness. Arrogantly, I thought I could tell you I love you and that would start our relationship. I realize now how ridiculous a request that was to a woman of your caliber.” I tighten my grip on her hand. For the first time since I entered the room, Karolina lifts her eyes to mine. Though they are red and rimmed with tears that had already fallen, she shows no emotion. “A loyal, giving, brilliant, funny, incredible woman like you deserves more than a rabid pronouncement of love and a rushed kiss. I want to give you the world.”

Karolina blinks. In response, my heart clenches. Losing her is not an option. No matter what she says, she belongs with me.

“Don’t you see that’s how I got myself into this situation in the first place?” Karolina turns, her gaze focusing on the view of palm trees lining the perimeter of the hospital parking lot. “I gave myself to David without so much as a second thought. He gave me
his
version of the world. The price I paid was
my
version of the world had to disappear. No more friends, no more school, no more work. I gave him my entire existence. You saw it yourself.”

With my free hand, I press the pads of two fingers on her chin until she turns back to face me. What I have to say is too important for her not to look into my eyes when I speak. She needs to listen with all her senses. Take in what I have to say and get the true meaning. “I will never hurt you. I will never steal your passion or push you into a corner. I will never make you feel that you are less than the most important person in my life. The woman I love doesn’t need to change. She has bravery like no one I have ever seen. She is an exquisite creature. She is selfless and giving. Life is too short for mediocrity. Any woman, other than the woman you are today, is mediocre. I am not giving up on the woman I love.”

Karolina sucks in a breath, and her chocolate eyes go wide.

Inwardly, I smile. The woman hears me. She doesn’t believe that she is the woman I see. Not yet. But I’ll correct that misconception.

“I’m not—I don’t—you can’t–”

I kiss her softly, channeling all the admiration, tenderness, and affection I have for her into the connection. “When you’re ready.” Some of the tension in her shoulders melts. There’s no sign of acquiescence, though. Lifelessness creeps back into her eyes, and she collapses against the stiff pillows in exhaustion. What I would give to take her straight from this hospital to my home to pamper and love her. However, snatching Karolina’s ability to make decisions for herself would make me no better than David Morgan.

Walking away from Karolina at this moment fills me with remorse. Doing the right thing isn’t always the thing that feels the best. I’m grimacing when I step out into the hallway. Adriana rushes to me, grabbing my upper arms to hold me at arm’s length. “What happened?”

Determination steels my voice. “I’m going to bring her back.”

Karolina

W
hen the door opens again, I clench my fist so hard that my fingernails dig in my palms. What now? Thankfully, I’ve had no more surprise visitors. This time, it’s the nurse arriving with my discharge instructions. Adriana bustles into the room after her, taking over for me. I’m thankful for her because then I don’t have to think about medication doses or other things . . . like Alec’s confession. He stole the breath right from my lungs. All those beautiful things he said about me—I loathe for the day to come when he realizes none of it is a true. I’m weak. Pathetic. Timid. A mother guilty of the most unforgivable sin.

Adriana gives me a pair of leggings, an oversized heather gray t-shirt, a black cardigan, and large sunglasses to cover the ugly bruises scattered across my face and neck. Before we leave, I toss the negligée and robe I wore last night in the garbage. If I never see the silky black garments again, it will be too soon.

In the hallway, Hector waits for us to emerge from the room. I trail behind Adriana, and when I reach him, he moves to stand on my other side. The older man wraps an arm around my shoulders and hugs me against him. “Thank you for coming with us,” he mutters.

I glance down to the tile floor. He’s thanking me? I should be the one falling all over myself with gratitude. Adriana and Hector keep me sandwiched between them, my very own protective unit. A blast of appreciation fills me. They lead me to a familiar scene: a luxury sedan idling in the parking lot. A man in a dark suit smiles kindly at me and helps me into the backseat of the vehicle.

“Thank you, Stan,” Adriana tells the man sincerely once she is in the seat next to me.

The hum of the engine soothes me into another round of sleep. Some time later, I wake to find the car parked in a tree-lined brick driveway. I push the sunglasses through my hair and study the surroundings. An enormous white villa stands proudly among the lush greenery. “Where are we?” I ask Adriana sleepily.

“Our home on Star Island. There is plenty of privacy here for you to think and decide what to do next.” Adriana opens the door and climbs out. Then she reaches a hand back to me. “Come on.”

Tentatively, I place my hand in hers. With a loose tug, Adriana pulls me from the car. She links our arms together, and we walk underneath a covered walkway to the front door of the home.

“Let me show you where you’ll be staying and then there are some things we should discuss,” Adriana says. We walk through the immaculate home. Unlike the place I lived with David, warmth infuses this home. Family photos hang on the walls. The color scheme is warm and inviting. The home is palatial but somehow not daunting, likely because the woman of the house doesn’t carry an air of arrogance or superiority. For the most part, the house is quiet, only the occasional sound of soft footsteps, a cabinet shutting, or water running. There is no sign of Adriana and Hector’s two children.

“Where are Valencia and Manuel?”

“They are visiting with their cousins. The house will be quiet. For today.” Adriana's eyes light up at the mention of her children. How I envy that light.

“Oh. That’s good. Family is good,” I mumble more to myself than her. “What time is it?” I glance around for a clock and find out it’s a little after noon. When I left the house last night, it was in an ambulance. I don’t have my cell phone or a watch. As if last night’s harrowing discoveries didn’t disorientate me enough, I hardly remember what day it is.
Saturday.
The gala yesterday was a Friday.