Behind Her Smile (16 page)

Glancing down at my hand, it all rushes back. David came home from a business dinner. Drunk. It’s a rare occurrence for David to overindulge in alcohol, but last night his words were slurred. I don’t know what I did to anger him. His rage erupted like a volcano, spewing flames at anything in its wake. One second, I was knitting a sweater that was completely inappropriate for Miami’s tropical climate, and the next moment, I was on the ground with my wrist bent at an unnatural angle. At some point, someone must have changed me and gotten me into bed. I’m wearing one of the lacy nightgowns David bought me after a particularly brutal argument.

Thinking about David’s rage makes my body quake. I don’t know how much more I can survive. I don’t know how to do this.

Take care of yourself.
It’s a tiny whisper, but it’s enough to get my mind moving.

“Okay. Let me get some clothes on.” Shame colors my words. I stare down at the intricately stitched duvet blinking back tears. They aren’t swimming in my eyes because of the pain; I’m crying because I let this happen. Again. The third time in six months he beat me badly enough that I don’t remember being put into bed. Miranda clucks sympathetically. When the damp washcloth reappears, this time it’s to wipe away the salty tears dripping down my cheeks.

Once Miranda helps me into a pair of leggings and a droopy sweatshirt, Carlo drives me to the emergency room. I check in at the intake desk then find a seat in one of the hard plastic waiting chairs.

“Karolina?”

As if this day couldn’t get any worse, someone recognizes me. I lift my head to find Steven Lewis—another one of David’s acquaintances-slash-clients—peering down at me from behind a pair of wire-rimmed glasses. He smiles kindly.

“Doctor Lewis. Hi. It’s nice to see you. How are you doing?”

“Much better than you, dear. What do we have here?”

Adding another sin to the list of those that I have committed against myself, I lie. With a forced smile, I answer. “Guess I was sleepwalking this morning. Hadn’t had any caffeine and tripped at the bottom of the staircase. My wrist isn’t too happy with me.”

Doctor Lewis winces at the awkward way my wrist lies in my lap. If he had an inkling that I’m lying about the way I injured my wrist, he doesn’t show it. “I’m useless before my first cup of Joe. Let’s see what we can do about getting you in and out of here quickly so you can get your day moving.”

“Oh, thank you, Doctor Lewis, but I don’t need any special treatment. I’m happy to wait.” I don’t want to use Morgan connections to get privileges. I haven’t earned anything.

Doctor Lewis chuckles. “David would be very upset to learn I didn’t get you immediate care when you are in pain. Is he parking the car?”

“He’s traveling this week and next, actually. Some business in China.”
Thankfully.

“Sit tight, Karolina. We’ll get you all sorted out.” With a friendly pat on my shoulder, the older man walks to the intake desk. A few minutes later, a nurse escorts me back into an observation bay where Doctor Lewis can examine me more closely.

As far as hospital visits go, this one passes quickly and uneventfully. After an X-ray, we find out my wrist is, in fact, broken, and I’ll need to wear a cast for a few weeks. With prescriptions in hand, I climb into the back of David’s luxury sedan and let Carlo deliver me back to the Morgan estate. The rest of the day passes in a blur from the sedatives I needed while the orthopedist set my wrist. I’m thankful for the mellow haze that overcomes my senses. I don’t want to think about the gravity of the situation.

When I make my way into the kitchen the next morning, there’s a gargantuan bouquet of purple Hyacinths in the center of the island. Miranda scurries around the kitchen, combining the ingredients for my morning protein shake.

“Where did these come from?”

“There’s a card,” she tells me quietly without meeting my eye.

So there is, sitting out between the petals held in a plastic clip. I tug the small white rectangle envelope and slip the card out. The card has only two words scrawled on it, obviously by the hand of the florist and not the sender.

Forgive me

How can I? David’s never hurt me this badly. Bruises and scrapes aside, a bone has never been broken. Listen to me justifying this behavior.
Disgusting.
If I had any brains left at all, I’d pack up my things and get out of here before he returned from his business trip.

The landline phone rings. Miranda answers the cordless then hands me the device, head bowed.

“Hello?” I whisper in the phone.

“Oh, my jewel. Before I left, it looked like you had seriously damaged your wrist. Please tell me you’ve gotten the proper care?” I’m suffering from whiplash. The last time I spoke to David, his voice was full of rage. Through the tinny connection, I hear his contrite, anguished tone, and it actually sounds sincere.

The answer comes out hollow. “Yes. I ran into Doctor Lewis and he helped me jump the line at the emergency room.”

“Say you’ll forgive me, Karolina,” David pleads urgently. “A business deal went south and I drowned my sorrows in too much whiskey. It will never happen again. I love you too much to hurt you. You know that, right?”

No. I don’t know that at all.

My stony silence worries him, and his voice turns frantic. “I need you, Karolina. You’re the reason my heart beats, the catalyst that keeps blood flowing through my veins. I have no life without you.”

Inside me, confusion wars. “Why do you want to be with me if I make you so angry?” I finally ask.

“Because you are the only woman for me. Don’t you see what a wonderful pair we make, Karolina? Every king needs his queen, and you are mine. I couldn’t rule over the kingdom without you.”

“Really?” I can’t help the hopefulness in my voice.
He needs you, don’t you see?

“Of course, my jewel,” he says huskily. “I’m on my way to a dinner now. Let’s talk later today, yes? I will call you.”

“Okay,” I answer immediately.

“I love you,” he rasps.

“Love you,” I murmur and then disconnect. Steadfastly, I ignore Miranda’s probing gaze and flutter around the kitchen to fill a glass of water for my daily dose of medication.

My daily trip to the gym is on hold while my wrist recovers. I decide a walk through the botanical gardens will suffice as exercise today. Carlo drives me the short distance to the park.

The world looks normal today—another typical day in South Florida with bountiful heat and sunlight. Flowers blossom around the park. Strangers delight in the natural beauty surrounding them. And I probably look like one of those average people, soaking in the splendor of the garden. All the while, I want to rage. I want to scream at the injustice of my reality. Yet I know that throwing a tantrum won’t change anything.

Life goes on. While my existence quietly breaks apart, the sun keeps shining, the flowers keep growing, people continue to get up and go to work and live their lives. No one stops to hold your hand through the trials and tribulations. All around, people are dealing with their own stuff. The world keeps spinning whether you are suffering through a personal tragedy or not.

It’s then I notice a shadow falling over the flowers I’ve been studying for the last ten minutes. I don’t need to look or hear his voice to know who stands next to me. The man who makes me feel safe. Well, it’s way past the chance for safety.

“You’re a little late,” I tell him. At least I can still speak freely around him without the fear of retribution.

“Oh?” he asks, bemused.

“When you said we needed to ‘settle this,’ I didn’t think you meant we’d talk six months after the charity gala. By now all that’s between us is a thing of the past, no?”

“If you believe that, then you probably knocked your head in addition to that wrist. Let me have a look.” Very, very carefully, as though not to hurt me anymore, he places one hand on my palm and presses my wrist up. With his other hand, Alec examines my splint with a furrowed brow. My chest squeezes at this tenderness. It’s as if he can’t stand the thought of causing me more pain. I’m a splintered piece of glass he doesn’t want to damage further. Those powerful hands don’t cause pain; they still have the ability to soothe. A strange sensation fills my chest and wraps my heart until the jagged little pieces fall back into place. “Please tell me it looks worse than it feels.”

My eyes fall closed, and I shake my head woefully. “I don’t understand why you keep acting this way.”

“What way?” He sounds truly dumbfounded.

“As if you care about me. Deeply.”

Alec releases a heavy breath. The only sounds I hear are the songs birds singing to each other and a distant lawnmower cutting grass. “Call me old fashioned, but I don’t have the patience to see a woman in physical pain.”

Opening my eyes, I nod my acceptance of his explanation. There must be more to it than that, but I don’t push him. If nothing more, Alec is a man who has shown me great kindness and sensitivity in moments of weakness. Beneath his tough, enigmatic exterior is a massive, giving heart.

“How did this happen?” he asks softly.

The lie hangs on the tip of my tongue, but for some reason, I can’t say it. Sighing, I shake my head.

“What?” he asks with one corner of his lip ticked up. Clearly, it hasn’t occurred to him that David could be the culprit behind this injury.

“I fell and tried to break my fall with my hands. The only thing I ended up breaking was my wrist,” I say. Not a lie, but not the whole truth either.

“What do you want?” I carefully retract my hand, not bothering to hide my resignation.

“To know more about you.” He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Recognizing that I’m not going to get away from this easily, I walk to a secluded bench set underneath a shady tree. Alec stretches out next to me, one arm casually thrown along the length of the backrest. If he were to scoot a few inches closer, our thighs would touch, and I don’t know how I would respond to his nearness.

“Why, Alec?”

“Don’t you think I’ve asked myself that a million times?” he wonders gruffly. “I saw with my own eyes how devoted your husband is, and still I can’t stay away.” I bite back the hysterical laughter that bubbles in my chest. Devoted? Only in some twisted fashion. David is the world’s best actor. “I thought he would stifle your talent and snuff all the independence in you that made you so alluring. Apparently, you want the lifestyle just as badly as him.”

I suck in a shocked breath—the words hurting more than anything David has ever done to me physically. “You think I’m that shallow?”

Alec pins me with a glare, suddenly angry. “Do you think I’m stupid?” he retorts harshly. “No, I know you aren’t that shallow. I know David’s keeping you captive in his little mansion on the water. What the fuck, Karolina? I expected much better from you.”

“Who do you think you are?” I hiss indignantly. “It’s the same old song and dance with you, Alec Christos. You swoop in from some mysterious place with your heavy-handed comments about my life. You know
nothing
. And if you did, maybe you’d realize that David Morgan is the only man, no person, who has ever loved me. He takes care of me, protects me, and nurtures me. And, yes, my career isn’t taking the path that I planned when I was a little girl, but dreams change, Alec.” By the end of my rant, my chest is heaving with each breath. I feel wild, furious, and most of all, completely bewildered. My argument came from some deep recess of my mind. The words spewed out automatically. Alec voiced the silent arguments I’ve been having with myself for months. And he doesn’t know the full truth of what happens in the mansion on the water. I start to rise to my feet, ready to bolt.

“Karolina, wait.” Alec’s hand shoots out, and he grabs the forearm of my uninjured arm. I pause, cataloguing his incomprehension. “You have me at a disadvantage.
No one
has me at a disadvantage,” he corrects. “Except you.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” I can’t keep a tremor out of my words.

He drops my arm. Then his fingertips brush against my cheek. Little sparks of electricity flicker from the point where Alec touches me to every pulse point on my body. “It’s one of the reasons I find myself constantly seeking your company. You keep me on my toes. You aren’t afraid to voice your opinion even if it’s contrarian.” He pauses to rake a hand through his hair. “Don’t leave. Spend time with me,” he urges.

“Will this be a two-sided conversation, or am I supposed to shell out the details until you’ve had your fill?”

Alec smiles then. It breaks through his scruffy but somehow well-manicured beard. A real, full-fledged smile that makes my toes curl in my tennis shoes. “You drive a hard bargain, but I think that can be arranged.” We settle back on the bench in a comfortable silence. Every once and a while, a gentle wind swirls by. And for a moment, I relax.

“Alec Christos. Sounds like you came straight from Greece,” I say.

“Guilty. My mother immigrated to Chicago before she knew I existed. When she realized she preferred warm weather to working in her family’s diner in Greek Town, she brought us to Miami. I grew up right on Miami Beach.”

From under lowered lashes, I study Alec as he speaks. His features, strong cheekbones and jaw, look like they were molded from granite. But his nose was definitely broken a time or two. Because Alec doesn’t make mention of his father, I don’t bring it up either.

“And where does your mother live now?”

A flicker of something passes over him quickly. Hurt? Anger? I can’t be certain.

“She died before I graduated high school.”

“Oh, Alec.” I place my good hand on his knee, trying to convey my sympathy.

“Don’t be sorry. The woman was a prostitute and cared more about money than anything else. She was reckless with herself. Crossed the wrong John and that was it.” I see the tension where it crinkles the corners of his eyes and sets his jaw tight.

“Don’t mistake my empathy for pity.” I tighten my grip on his knee. “I know what it’s like to have a disinterested mother. More than that, I know what it’s like to be living on your own without a family. The last time I spoke to my mom was that day you found me getting ready for my wedding. She’s only a few hours away, but it’s as if she doesn’t exist. My mom and sister, Lucie, want nothing to do with me.” I squeeze his knee and then release it and press my back against the wood slats of the bench. “Turns out the only thing I really wanted for my life was a family to love. All that fashion business was a distraction.”