Behind Her Smile (13 page)

“That sounds a little cold,” I admit before I can think better of how critical I sound.

David’s features tighten momentarily but then he speaks gently. “This is the life I live, Karolina. You’ve been my wife for a few months but only to us. The city knows who you are and that means you have a part to play. You’re up for it, aren’t you?”

In my mind, I jump ahead to disappointing David. That’s the last thing I want to do. My heart jumps into my sternum at the mere suggestion of losing David.

“Of course, I’m up for anything you ask of me,” I return quickly. He nods his approval and settles back into his seat.

“There’s one other thing.”

“Oh?”

“I love you.”

I beam at him. This is why I married David Morgan. He’s an incurable romantic.

“I love you back.”

David leans in close and presses his lips to mine. He tastes like coffee and orange juice.

“We’ll be in Johannesburg before you know it. What are you most excited to see on our safari?”

I angle my body toward David. I ignore the little bursts of pain in my ribs, and the memories they evoke, and relax into the headrest. “Lions. They’re powerful and beautiful and remind me of someone I love.”

“You’re not one for subtlety, Karolina Morgan.”

“Is—is that a bad thing?” I ask worriedly.

“No, my jewel, the fact that you wear your heart wide open for the world to see makes me love you all the more.”

A
t David’s insistence, a pattern forms after we return from South Africa. He demands a strict routine, and I, in my quest to keep peace in the home, adhere to his requirements.

Every morning, I visit the gym for two hours of exercise to keep my body in shape and network with the wives and partners of Morgan Financial clients. Twice a week, I meet with a trainer for a joint session with Madison, the wife of one of David’s largest clients. Mondays are manicures—strictly a pale pink. Tuesdays are typically charity luncheon days. Wednesdays are board meetings for the Morgan Foundation. Thursdays are shopping and often returns if David doesn’t approve of what I purchase. David reserved the weekends for whatever he deems acceptable. There is time built into my life for other grooming—trips to the spa for waxing and time on a lounge chair to keep my skin sun-kissed. Projects around the house never end. An interior designer and I moved from room to room reconstructing the home. If you had told me I’d be busier now than when I had two jobs and schoolwork, I would have laughed in your face. Though my life sounds easy, the tasks often resemble chores with the end result to please my husband. There are imaginary lines that I must navigate without a map. And when I step off course, the results are . . . unpleasant.

School disappears. Work disappears. With them go my student loans and the memories of a forgotten life. I am David Morgan’s wife, in charge of running the Morgan household and upholding the family’s good name.

The reality of the situation is less glamorous than I imagined when I married David. Because the more time we spend together, the more distant he becomes. After work, he hardly wants to talk. Most nights, he goes straight from dinner into his office, slamming the door shut behind him. Sometimes, I wonder if I am more committed to this marriage than David is, the man who pushed for it the most.

Today, rays of sunshine bathe the pool deck. It’s the last chance I have to bronze my skin before the Morgan charity gala tomorrow evening. David mentioned that my skin has taken on an unpleasant pallor recently, so I’m trying to gain a healthy glow.

“Mrs. Morgan, your lunch.” Miranda holds a tray with yogurt, berries, a mixture of seeds, and ice water. Food David has approved. Carefully, she arranges the clear glass holding my lunch, drinking tumbler, napkin, and cutlery on a table next to the chair.

“Thank you, Miranda. This looks wonderful.” I scoot up in my seat to smile gratefully at her. Acknowledging Miranda and Carlo with verbal appreciation is a small defiance against my orders David gave deeming it unnecessary to acknowledge them, but I refuse to be unkind and dismissive.

“You’re very welcome. Let me know if you need anything else.” The wrinkles in Miranda’s soft cheeks become more pronounced when she returns my smile and then she departs.

Curling around the chair, I adjust the back to its full height. I cross my legs and put my sunglasses on to shield my eyes while I eat.

“What pleasure a simple meal can bring.” The voice rolls down my skin hypnotically, and I jerk in surprise. My free hand flies to my chest, willing my galloping heart to slow. My head snaps up, and I find Alec Christos casting shade over my chair. As always, he’s wearing a pair of expensive gray slacks and a white shirt with the shirtsleeves rolled up displaying a large, black-faced watch.

“You startled me.” Not in the mood for mysteries, I ignore his comment. “David’s at the office. If you want to talk to him, you should have gone there.” I blame my rudeness on Alec. He appears when I least expect him, always pushing my boundaries until I’m uncomfortable.

“That’s good because I didn’t come here to see David.” Alec sits right next to my crossed legs. No respect for any boundaries he may cross by sitting this close. Despite the cloudless day, he’s not wearing sunglasses. The normally impassive man studies me with open curiosity.

“You talk in riddles,” I accuse.

“Really? I thought I was being obvious. Karolina, I came here to see you.” Even though he’s not touching me, I feel Alec everywhere. My skin prickles with awareness. My mouth goes dry. My hands start fiddling, something I never do otherwise. This visceral reaction unsettles me. This man unsettles me. I’m drawn to him and want to run from him at the same time.

“What could you possibly want with me?”

Slowly—oh, so slowly—Alec lifts his hand to my face. Damn my heart for seizing when I think he’s going to touch my cheek. Instead, he gently removes my sunglasses. “That’s better,” he murmurs. The way he looks at me makes me think he can see deep into my soul.

This man is not your husband,
the voice of reason reminds me furiously. I can’t help myself. Something in Alec sparks my curiosity. He continues to show up at the most unusual times, and when he’s near me, he actually wants to talk to me. Not the polite banter of a society event. No, he’s looking for a real conversation. The longer I’ve been married to David, the less I find myself having genuine interaction with people. I can’t remember the last time I had a conversation with someone who wanted to hear my real, unfiltered opinions. I can’t help but perk up when Alec’s around me. Yes, he’s undeniably handsome, but there’s more than that. Past the physical attraction and underneath his hooded eyes and teasing smirks, I see a potential friend.

Unsurprisingly, Alec doesn’t answer my question. The man screams power and control. I doubt he ever lets anyone take the lead in a conversation or otherwise. “I was disappointed to learn you haven’t finished your degree,” he says, a frown forming between his dark brows.

“How do you know that?” I don’t give him the same bogus line I told Dora about going to school one day. Every day, that dream slips further and further from my reach.

“Information is extremely valuable. I make it my business to obtain it.” His gaze doesn’t waver as he leans closer. Still, he hasn’t touched me, but I feel like he’s the hunter and I’m the prey caught in his net. “Especially when the information is about someone as lovely as you.”

And that’s when I realize he’s toying with me. Again. Anger builds in my chest. Why do I let him get to me? “You have some nerve to come here and treat me this way. I’m a married woman, Alec. Do I need to remind you that my husband is one of your friends?”

“No need for the reminder.” Alec’s gaze hardens. “But you should know that David and I have never been friends, as you say. We’re business acquaintances, yes, but other than that, he’s nothing to me.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me,” I mutter. “It must be impossible to get close to you what with the mysterious façade you wear like armor.”

It’s the first time I’ve heard him laugh. Everything he does is sexy. How is that possible? The husky sound has me looking away, frantic for anything to distract me from the forbidden attraction I feel toward this man.

“You got me there, Karolina.”

“What line of business are you in?” I blurt, wanting to know him better.

“I won’t taint your sweetness with that information.” He’s grinning now as if I amuse him.

“Enough with the twisted words.” I don’t know where my ferocity comes from, but I don’t try to smother it. “These games are getting old. Tell me what you want from me and then let’s move on. Every time you chat me up without David around, you’re putting me in an uncomfortable position with my husband.”

All humor fades away from his expression. “That’s not my intention, Karolina.” Then he frowns. Deeply. Seeing his unhappiness does something to me—I don’t want to upset anyone, even if Alec does confound me at times. “That’s not entirely true. At first, I’ll admit I sought you out because I enjoyed watching David squirm. But after two minutes with you, I realized it was more than that. I enjoy your company. Unlike the majority of people I spend time with, you don’t want something from me. In fact, whenever you’re not verbally sparring, you push me away. That’s a hell of a turn-on for a man like me.”

“I’m not trying to turn you on at all!” I say immediately. “I’m married and not some pawn that you can use against my husband. What don’t you understand about that?”

Alec’s jaw locks with tension. “I may have visited you on your first wedding night with impure intentions, but I see now you’re more than just a beautiful woman David picked to marry. You have spirit and intelligence. After seeing you get married twice, I understand completely that you are off-limits. The reason I continue to seek out your company is that I think we have a lot in common.”

An emotion I don’t dare to name clogs my throat. Spirit and intelligence? Those might be the kindest words anyone has ever used to describe me. “What could we possibly have in common?” I mean to ask him this with disbelief, but Alec hears something else in my tone. Apparently, my reaction displeases him. I have no malice. I’m stunned to think he sees me this way.

Alec assesses me through cool eyes. “Poverty. Ambition. Fortitude. Is that enough for you?” More descriptions I cannot fathom. How could he possibly know I was raised in poverty? And those other things—it’s as if he read my life story. For some reason, he wants to talk about the person my own husband pretends never existed.

My entire body quivers. A torrent of raw, blistering pain slashes through me. All of a sudden, I want to cry.

I’m so lonely.

Being inundated with work in the absence of his brother and father, David is hardly around. And when he is at home, he is more irritable than I realized. Then there are all the society events—none of those women want to be my friend. More like my rivals to have the latest fashion and most expensive jewelry. I haven’t spoken to Dora in months. I feel like I’m losing control of my life.

Alec rises to his feet and fear rushes through me.
Don’t go!
I want to grab his hand and beg him to stay and tell me all the stories that made him in to the man standing before me.

“I . . . I don’t know what to say.”

Alec shoves his hands into his pockets. He displays his strong profile when he gazes off toward the rolling mansion on the opposite side of the Coral Gables waterway. “Don’t say anything. You’re right. I shouldn’t be here.”

This time, I find the nerve to act. Before he can stride off into parts unknown, I jump to my feet and grab his wrist. I feel
it
then. A connection between us that is strong enough to make me yank my hand back in stunned silence. Alec twists his neck to look down at me, his lips pressed together in a firm line.

Whatever I want to confess—whatever I want to ask dies on the tip of my tongue. Staring at the man I once thought to be the devil, I realize the truth. Alec is a mortal just as I am, flaws and all.

“I’m sorry.” I whisper the words to his throat. The words are to both of us.

“You owe me nothing, least of all an apology,” Alec scoffs. Then he stalks across the stone patio without a glance back. Limply, I collapse into the lounge chair unsure of what just happened.

If David found out about this . . .
I shudder to think what my husband would do if he knew Alec came by and saw me in a bikini, no less. Despite my state of undress, Alec didn’t ogle or lick his lips as if I was something to sate his appetite.

Alec Christos saw
me
.

I don’t know if I’ll ever be the same.

“How are your remarks coming along?”

Even though it’s just the two of us for dinner, Miranda still makes David and me a three-course meal. On Fridays, she and I spend time creating the next week’s menu based on David’s and my schedule. Sometime over the weekend, David approves the menu or sends revisions. That way there are no unfortunate surprises, he explained to me at one time. All meals must be low in sugar, sodium, and of course, free of preservatives or those pesky GMOs. Gone are the days of junk food for me. I’ve never felt or looked better—physically—but I miss McDonald’s fries and milkshakes.