Plain Again (27 page)

Only their presence didn’t matter to her, not in her current state of mind.

Anyone could have sent her those photos, she realized. Even the paparazzi could have sent them, eagerly awaiting her reaction to such heartbreaking images of her husband seeking comfort in Maria’s arms.

But Amanda didn’t care. For the moment, her only thought was to concentrate on trying to calm down and control her emotions. It would do no one any good to fall apart, she told herself, knowing that falling apart was the one thing she wanted to do.

Her mind traveled back to the argument that they had had prior to her leaving. Her tears on account of that awful video had been mirrored by the tears she had cried on her flight back to Philadelphia. Since their separation, their communications had been stressed, that was undeniable. But to think that Alejandro would slip so carelessly into his Viper mindset and be seen in public with another woman, especially that Maria? To take her in his arms? To bring her to their home? To do something so unthinkable?

She could not even finish her train of thought! The images in her mind caused her stomach to twist and turn, an ache that spread throughout her body.

Her feet carried her down the road, unconcerned by the slow-moving car behind her. Let them take photos, she thought bitterly. All they will see is my back, and what interest would that be to the insatiable fans? Immediately, she recognized the bitterness in her own feelings. In her entire life, she had never felt this way, and the feeling completely drained her emotions while darkening her heart.

Please, God, from whom all blessings flow, guide me through this in the true manner of being your child.

She felt a wave of nausea and hurried to the side of the road. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she bent down and vomited. Her back convulsed from her predicament, and she didn’t care that the photographers in the car following her were taking picture after picture at a frenzied pace, having finally found what they were out to get: a photo of the despondent Amanda, the most famous Amish woman in the world and now the most brokenhearted.

Chapter Twenty-Three

When he finally awoke, the room was dark and he had no idea what time it was. A thin trickle of light shone in through the crack in the curtains, which had been shut. By whom, he had no idea. His head ached and his eyes felt bleary. Groaning, he rolled over in the bed, tossing an arm over his forehead as he thought back to the previous evening. What had happened? How had he returned to the condo?

After a few minutes, he slid his legs over the side of the bed. He leaned his elbows on his knees as he rubbed his face. He remembered being angry with Maria at the after-party, how she continued to cling to his arm and linger nearby with those other women. But after hanging with Dricke Ray and Justin Bell, he had begun to loosen up a bit. And then they had convinced him to sing, something that he did not need much encouragement to do.

After that, too many people had sent over congratulatory drinks to him. As his head lightened, so did his mood. Dancing, laughing, photos with the different ladies. For a few hours, he had been Viper, living
la vida loca
, the crazy life that he had abandoned only a few short months earlier. Now, the morning after, as he tried to piece together the fuzzy missing sections of the previous night, he realized that the switch had been far too easy for him. He had forgotten what it was like to be young and wild and free. He had forgotten what it felt like to be among adoring fans and sexy women. And he had forgotten the fact that he was married and wildly in love with his wife.

Amanda!

He scrambled for his phone, and despite his still-unfocused eyes, he punched at the buttons so that it turned on, the clock clearly displaying 1:04 p.m. Had he truly slept that late? He searched his memory, trying to recall if he had any appointments today. Probably. When didn’t he have appointments? he thought bitterly. Mike would have to deal with his no-show appearance.

“Hey, you’re awake!”

The female voice from the doorway startled him. He jumped and quickly looked in the direction from where her voice came. Leaning against the doorframe in a sheer white dressing gown was Maria, her blond hair hanging over her shoulder in wild curls. As always, her makeup was impeccable and she was the vision of beauty. But it was the glow in her eyes that scared him.

She crossed the room and handed him a white mug with hot coffee. “Black, the way you like it, baby,” she said, a knowing smile on her face.

He didn’t speak as he took it from her, a sense of dread building within his chest.

She took his silence for an unspoken invitation and sat down on the bed next to him, too close for his comfort. “Wow!” she said, laughing lightly as she flipped her hair over her shoulder. The curl immediately swooped back across her cheek in that particularly unique Maria type of way. “That was some party last night,
sí
?”

He sipped at the coffee, knowing that she was going to tell him whatever he needed to know. She always did. He also knew that it would serve no purpose to admit that he barely remembered what had happened and was extremely curious as to why she was in his condo. In due time, he told himself, she will tell me, no doubt.

She reached out and ran her fingers through his hair. He stiffened at her touch, but she ignored it. “I can’t
believe
what we did last night,” she laughed, tilting her head back. Her hair brushed against his bare skin. “That was so much fun! I’ll simply never forget it!”

“Maria . . .” He reached up with his free hand and brushed away her touch. “Stop.”

Despite his protest, her hand lingered on his shoulder. “It’s so good to have my Viper back,” she whispered and leaned over to kiss at his neck. The gesture shocked him. It was too unexpected. Even more unexpected was the familiar way in which she had done it. As if he shouldn’t have been surprised. As if he should have expected it. As if it was the most natural act in the world between the two of them.

Abruptly, he stood up. His heart was pounding. He needed time alone . . . time to think and collect himself. He searched his memory, fighting the cloud of mystery that hung over the throbbing in his temples. He tried to think why she would have kissed him, why she had entered his room, and, most important, why she was even there.

“You need to leave, Maria,” he said, his tone low and even. Get in control, he told himself. Control the situation. “I’m not sure how you managed to get in here, but it’s time to leave.”

She laughed again and leaned back on the bed, one leg bent seductively. “You invited me,” she purred, her eyes drooping just enough to indicate that she was flirting with him. “Multiple times, Viper.”

He shut his eyes and clenched his fist. No, no, no, he screamed to himself. “Please get out,” he said calmly.

She laughed, a noise that sounded more sinister than friendly. “Oh, Viper,” she said softly. “I don’t think you mean that.”

What have I done? He wanted to scream at the top of his lungs, to wake up and find that this was just a bad nightmare. Yes, he had gone out with Dricke Ray and some of the usual entourage after the Jingle Ball. Clearly, he had consumed far too much alcohol. But to actually break his sacred marriage vow to Amanda? Impossible, he told himself.

“Maria,” he said calmly. “I have asked you to leave. It’s time.” He stared at the wall, waiting to hear movement . . . the rustling of sheets, her footsteps on the padded carpet, the noise of a door opening. Instead, he heard nothing. When he looked over his shoulder and saw that she had made no move to exit, a mischievous smirk on her face, he hissed at her.
“¡Ahora!”

She gasped and hurried off the bed. With narrowed eyes, she faced him and met his glare with her own. “It was only a matter of time, Alejandro!” she snarled, venom in her voice. “Marrying a quaint little farm girl and thinking you could change!” She laughed. “A tiger’s stripes can fade, but they never go away; a tiger never stops being a tiger.” Tilting her chin into the air, she smiled at him smugly. “Neither does a player!”

“Andres!” he shouted, calling for his security guard. It took a few minutes for the large man, dressed all in black, to appear in the open bedroom door. “Please escort this young . . .” He hesitated, trying to force himself to remain composed. “. . . Woman to the exit.”

“I don’t need an escort,” she snapped as she hurried toward the bathroom to change into her clothes. It only took her a few minutes to emerge, a small bag in her hand and dressed in a plain body-hugging dress with tall black stilettos. For a moment, he frowned, wondering about her change of clothes.

He waited until he heard the door to the suite shut before he allowed himself to pick up his phone and walk to the large, plush white chair by the window. Sinking into it, he used one finger to pull back the curtain and winced, as if in pain, at the bright light.

The phone felt heavy in his hand. He had to call Amanda. Surely she was waiting for him. He hadn’t called after the awards ceremony to tell her the good news. There hadn’t been time. He had been whisked behind the stage where reporters and photographers were lined up to interview him. It was a gauntlet, moving from one station to the next, smiling into the cameras and repeating words of appreciation for having been recognized, especially given the strong competition of the other nominees.

Then he had been hurried to the dressing room where he had changed in order to perform in the final half hour. After his song, he had quickly showered and changed once again before leaving the venue and heading to the after-party.

And that’s where the trouble had begun.

Drinks, toasts, congratulations, celebration. The music, the laughter, the pride of having won the award. It had been too much, and after weeks of not having partied with his entourage, it had gone to his head. Slipping back into the role of Viper had apparently been easier than he thought.

He stared at the phone, which seemed to stare right back at him, mocking him, for he knew that he needed to call Amanda, but he had no idea what he was going to say. He had never lied to her, never really lied to anyone, except during his bad days on the streets of Miami. If only he could remember everything . . .

“Viper?”

He looked up at Andres, who stood in the open doorway.
“¿Sí?”

“Mike is here to see you.”

Alejandro frowned and shook his head. There was no way that he could see Mike right now. His mind was swarming, his temples were throbbing, and he felt weak in the knees. He had to collect himself, had to sort his jumbled thoughts. “Tell him later.”

There was no need to tell Mike anything, for he stormed through the bedroom doors. “What did you do last night, Alex? You missed your morning appointment and now you’re late for your interview! My phone is ringing off the hook!”

“Not now,” Alejandro responded, walking past his manager and heading toward the bathroom. He slammed the door shut and turned on the faucet. The cold water poured down the drain, and he quickly splashed it over his face. It felt good, calming him down for a moment as he stared into the mirror.

Glimpses came back to him. The music was loud. The lights were flashing. And Maria had been by his side the entire night. They had danced; he remembered that much quite clearly. She had tried to kiss him at the nightclub, but he had pushed her away. That image came to him, too. But how had she managed to wind up in his condo? Had he truly invited her to accompany him? Had he been so intoxicated that he had betrayed his marriage vows?

Knowing that Mike was going to wait until he reappeared, Alejandro took his time. He switched on the shower and waited until the steam began to cloud the mirror. Only then did he strip and step inside, the hot water pouring over his head and down his back. His muscles began to relax, and he leaned one hand on the wall, his head hanging down as he tried to reconcile himself to the fact that, indeed, he had no memory of what had actually happened.

He cursed out loud and punched at the wall.

In all of his years as a grown-up man, he had never been faithful to a woman. He did not feel the need for it, and neither did they. He hadn’t expected anything different from those few women with whom he had relationships, either. Life was too short to be committed to one person, he had always explained. If nothing else, he had been honest about his infidelity. No one could ever claim that he was less than up front.

His entire reputation and image as Viper had been built upon that model. It was expected that he would leave clubs with different women each night and surround himself with any number of gorgeous hangers-on. His life was about living it, never about settling down. And the fans seemed to thrive on it, for he did it with style and class. When other celebrities fought the tabloids for reporting on their philandering ways, Viper had embraced them, and, as a result, his adoring public rewarded him with more loyalty than any other star.

But that had all changed when he met Amanda. He had evolved, and as unlikely as it had seemed at the time, the fans had changed along with him. His devotion to Amanda changed his image, and the public ate it up.

He remembered all too well that Mike had chastised him, telling him that a married Viper would never make it in the industry. The public would never accept it, Mike had claimed. Alejandro had proved him wrong. Viper was a different man, and the fans liked what they saw.

It had never crossed Alejandro’s mind that once dedicated to Amanda, he might not be able to give up his ways. How would she react to infidelity? How would the public react? The realization that these two questions were something he needed to face struck him as if someone had punched him in the stomach. The truth was that he had been unfaithful. A night of debauchery and lust had stolen his senses, forced him to his knees, and possibly ruined his life.

He shut his eyes and wished that he would wake up again, wake up alone and with the taste of a bad nightmare in his mouth instead of stale liquor. He wished that everything he was currently feeling would simply disappear. But he knew that it wouldn’t. He had to face the facts that he had awoken in his bed, the morning stained by the memory of another woman. He couldn’t deny it. It was something he had to face. After all, Amanda was better than that. She
deserved
better than that.

How could I have done something like this? His mind fought hard to try to make sense of the situation. He loved Amanda, loved her with his entire soul and being. Yet the truth was that he had awoken with another woman in his apartment. Had nothing changed? He was left wondering if Maria had been right. A tiger’s stripes never go away. They just may fade a little.

“¡
Dios
mío!”
he muttered and abruptly turned off the water. He would have to confess to Amanda, to let her know that something had happened and he had no memory of it. There was no way that he could live with himself by pretending last night hadn’t happened. She would forgive him. He took a deep breath at that thought. Yes, forgiveness was something that ran deep in the Amish culture and religion.

With a towel wrapped around his waist, he exited the bathroom and walked past Mike, unabashed as he headed for the closet. His head began to clear, and despite being unhappy with the choices he had made, he knew that there was a path to redemption.

“The social media has gone insane,” Mike said. He was sitting in a chair by the window, the curtain now open so that bright light streamed through. Little bits of dust seemed to float in the sun rays. “They’re saying Viper is back, and from the looks of it, they like it.”

“Shut up, Mike,” Alejandro growled. “It’s not about marketing.”

“Everything is about marketing!” He laughed when he said it, a laugh without any mirth. “Alex, you’re an international star and you’re a man, two strikes against you right there. The public will forgive your infidelity. Heck, they expect it from you!”

“It’s not their forgiveness that I need!” he snapped as he slipped on a pair of freshly laundered black slacks. “You seem to be rather amused by this.”

“I am,” Mike admitted.

“That makes me sick.”