Behind Her Smile (19 page)

Then I got to know her. At the Morgan funeral, she was unrelenting in her support of David. I watched her treat him lovingly even though I was sure the bastard didn’t deserve her devotion. I had to know more about her—where did she come from, what was she doing in Miami? To my surprise, we had similar histories. I felt a kinship to her because, like me, she fought her way through poverty and neglect. It made me sick that David had landed such a good woman. David invited me to be the witness at that pathetic excuse of a wedding to gloat, and I wanted to get him back, so I snuck into the bathroom to talk to Karolina . . . In an instant, everything changed. She was challenging and smart and gorgeous.

But she chose him.

This man is inferior to me in every possible way. The business he inherited in the unfortunate death of his father is tenuous at best. In a city full of phonies and wannabes, David Morgan stands out above the rest as desperate to maintain a certain pedigree, even if under false pretenses, whereas Karolina is authentic and genuine. What could she possibly see in him? He clearly stifles her. She practically balked in shock when I asked her what she wanted to eat. It’s as if he controls every aspect of her life.

A controlling asshole and a broken wrist make one hell of a nasty equation.

God. Thoughts like that make me almost as paranoid as David Morgan. I’ve seen the way he dotes on Karolina. It would be easy to believe the absolute worst of Morgan, but he doesn’t have the balls to hurt Karolina. He places her on a pedestal; he shows her off to every person who comes his way. He calls her his
jewel,
for chrissakes, as if she’s an object. A precious one, but an object nonetheless.

With an angry grunt, I stop the car next to the security hut. Unknowingly, I’ve driven myself to Hector Martinez’s home on Star Island. He and his wife, Adriana, are the closest friends I have, and I don’t feel like sitting alone tonight, stewing in my own misery.

As idiotic as it may be, I can’t stop myself from spending time with Karolina. Pathetically, I’ll take whatever piece of her I can. Biding my time until David fucks up enough that she leaves him. It will happen, and I’ll be damned if I miss my chance with her a second time.

“W
e should have a baby.”

David’s declaration nearly makes me choke on my orange juice. We are in Charleston, South Carolina sitting on a veranda overlooking an impeccably groomed grassy knoll behind the hotel where we are vacationing. Technically, it’s not so much of a vacation as David has spent most of his time courting a potential client and I have drifted around the city alone. I close the cover on my iPad to give me another moment to gather my thoughts.

A child? David and I never spoke about growing our family. I have only just turned twenty-five. In many ways, I don’t think of myself as an adult. I hardly know what I’m doing with my life; how could I mold a young mind when I’m still figuring this out for myself?

“You want to have a baby?” I repeat, still in shock.

“We have been married for two years, Karolina. It’s about time to add another member to our family. Don’t you think the house is too quiet as it is?” If any one of the expensive hotel’s other patrons were to overhear our conversation, they would think that David is just the doting husband—but I sense there is more to this than just a desire to add more noise to our life. David’s intentions frighten me. The expectations he has for a wife are impossible to achieve, I can’t imagine what he would demand of his child.

“I hadn’t given much thought to expanding our family,” I say mildly. “To be honest, I’m a little surprised. You sound so sure of yourself.”

“I am sure. I want a son, Karolina.”

“Well, you don’t exactly have much of a choice.” I try to joke, but David frowns in response.

“Are you going to deny me?” His voice is deceptively soft. His eyes narrow, letting me know this is a delicate subject.

My instant reaction to his demand for a child is
hell no.
This is no marriage in which to bring a child. But I have to choose my words carefully, so as to not upset my husband. “No, David, of course not. I want to have children. But is now the right time? We’re still newlyweds and I’m a minute into my mid-twenties. I don’t know that I’d make a good mother at this point in my life.” I try to make my case gently, without provoking any further anger from David. In a public place, he won’t get too vicious, but that doesn’t mean I won’t feel his wrath behind closed doors.

David waves a hand dismissively. “Miranda will be there with for whatever you need. We’ll hire a nanny if necessary.”

“Well . . .” When David realizes he has me—
again—
exactly where he wants me, a boyish light illuminates his face. He genuinely wants this. I’m flabbergasted, and dare I say, a tiny part of me wonders what it would be like to become a mother.

The broken wrist incident ended up being a turning point in our relationship. When David returned from his trip overseas, he was noticeably less tense. Apparently, he signed two new clients while there, and he was pleased with himself. As a result, our home life has run significantly smoother. All the rules and regulations are still in place, but David has been more lax about correcting my mistakes with physical punishment.

Until this subject, David and I have disagreed upon very little. That’s why I am more willing to allow him to persuade me this morning. When David looks at me this way, lit up with pleasure, it’s even more difficult than usual for me to deny him.

“When we get home, I can call my gynecologist.” I relent against the doubts. A man this thrilled must desperately want a child.

Didn’t that same line of thinking end with you marrying him?
But he’s changing. At his core, David Morgan is a good man. I know it.
Sounds like battered wife syndrome,
a dark voice whispers.

No
. That is not me.

David pats my hand in a way that’s almost patronizing, but I brush away the feeling. “Wonderful. I knew you would come around.” David pushes back his jacket sleeve to glance at his watch. “Right. I have meetings and then a lunch this afternoon. We’ll meet after that and do whatever you like. Maybe some shopping?” David winks. Then he is gone with only a chaste kiss on my cheek.

Most of the time, I walk on eggshells to avoid a dangerous misstep. What if our child upset David? Though my father never hurt me, I did know what it was like to grow up in the home of a dark man. It still pains me to think about my father, mother, and sister—heck, my entire life in Central Florida. The difference, though, is that my father wasn’t interested in being a dad. Even when times were good, he wasn’t the type of dad to take me to ride a bike or to the local ice-cream shop. David, on the other hand, genuinely wants a child. I saw the sincere desire in him. Plus, money would never be a problem. I won’t have to worry about David turning to drinking because we can barely keep a roof over our heads.

And, if I’m being honest with myself, the house would be far less quiet with a tiny little baby gurgling and giggling. A baby is one step closer to the house full of love and laughter that I realized I wanted all along. Maybe a baby would mellow David out.

Babies don’t solve martial problems—they are simply a distraction.
I don’t know where the voice comes from, but I swat it away. In my mind, a baby would bring us closer together than ever and maybe give some purpose to my life.

A ringing cell phone pierces through my thoughts. I pull the offending device from my purse and find an unlisted caller on the screen. That can only mean one thing.

“Hi.”

“Hello, Karolina,” Alec says.

Since that day on his yacht, Alec and I have waded through a somewhat unconventional friendship. Mostly, we talk on the phone when he finds himself free. Sometimes, when David travels, we meet for lunch. The interactions are sporadic, and thus, in my mind, are safer. Whenever we do meet, it's in places away from leering eyes, like a private terrace for lunch, again in my own backyard. Somehow, David hasn’t found out about our friendship. Alec is someone to talk to, even if we no longer touch on the topic of my marriage or the women he dates. Mostly, I tell him about my designs, and he talks about work and travel.

“South Carolina sticky this time of year?” he asks dryly.

Gone are the days of my wonderment of Alec’s knowledge of, seemingly, everything. The man says he’s made a business of possessing knowledge, and I can attest to this by all of the things he knows.

“Sort of. Are you in Miami?”

“London. Have you ever been here?”

“You know I haven’t.”

“One day, you need to get here. Imagine all the inspiration . . .” Alec trails off, waiting for me to refute him. There’s something much weightier on my mind.

The intensity of my conversation with David makes me suddenly serious. “I’m trying to figure out my life, Alec. It’s not as easy as you make it sound. You knew what you wanted to do, and I’m still floundering. Fashion can’t be the only thing in my life.”

“It wasn’t until Hector Martinez took me under his wing that I focused on real estate,” Alec tells me. “You don’t have to have all the answers, Karolina.”

“Trust me, I don’t have any answers.” I scoff.

All the way from London, I hear Alec chuckle. “Design can be one aspect of Karolina. There are other parts to you—the woman who raises money for disadvantaged youth and calls me on my pretentious bullshit.”

It’s glaringly obvious that he doesn’t mention my duties as a wife. Insecurity makes me waffle. “Do you think I would be a good mother?” I blurt, needing reassurance from the man whose opinion matters to me.

I sense Alec’s tension on the other end of the line because he’s silent. It’s not one of those pleasant, soothing silences we’ve shared before.

“I think you would make a tremendous mother,” Alec finally says after a few more beats. “A child would be all the better for having you as his or her parent. You genuinely listen and you care. My God, do you care, about
everyone
, even if he or she don’t deserve your unfailing kindness. Is there—” Alec clears his throat roughly as if he’s full of anguish “–are you trying to tell me something?”

“No. I’m not pregnant.” I force a laugh, trying to bring some levity. “You’re the only person I can ask these questions. And, um, I wanted to know what you thought. There aren’t many people whose opinions I trust.”

All of a sudden, Alec’s voice is rock hard. Anger filters through the phone lines even though he is thousands of miles away. “Right. You have my opinion on the matter. Excuse me, Karolina, but something needs my immediate attention. Enjoy Charleston.” The phone disconnects with an abrupt click.

My stomach twists uncomfortably. I hurt the person who believes in me, who wants to see me succeed.

T
he plastic wand hits the marble countertop with a clatter.

“How many times do we need to fuck before you get pregnant?” David’s face is nearly boiling with anger.

I hug the cotton robe tighter to my chest. “Sometimes it takes a while. A woman on the board of the breast cancer gala said–”

David whips around faster and grabs the lapels of my robes in tight fists. He yanks me closer. “You’re telling those fucking gossips about this?”

“No!” I cry, trembling at the fury wafting off him. “She—Stacy Polt—had her first baby last year. She told the entire group how it took her nearly a year to get pregnant. I didn’t say anything, I swear.”

David releases me, and I stumble back a few steps, a hand pressed to my chest.

In the past six months, we have had sex every day, sometimes twice a day. Each cycle that passes with a negative result sends David into a dark spiral. He’s pushed me into walls, growling in my face that there must be something wrong with my ‘fucked-up body’ that I can’t get pregnant. This physical, brutal man is the man who is supposed to be the father of my child. No.
No.
This isn’t right. I see it now: David screaming obscenities at me in the presence of our baby. David using his fists to punish me, or worse, my baby.

David plants his hands on his trouser-clad hips. His handsome features morph into a scowl. “Did you really stop taking your birth control or have you been lying to me this whole time?”