Behind Her Smile (30 page)

“I will,” I interrupt resolutely. “Whatever needs to be done to make sure David is punished for what he’s done.”

Jared glances at Adriana who watches me worriedly. “Karolina, you are not responsible for what happens to him,” she says gently.

“If it were just me that he hurt, I could walk away. This is much more than what David did to me. In comparison, a few bumps and bruises are nothing compared to the devastation he caused. I have the power to do something about this, and I refuse to let the opportunity slip by me. Whatever the consequences are, I have to do this.” I’m breathing heavily when I finish speaking. The concern sits firmly on Adriana’s face.

“Very well. Adriana, unfortunately, I need to ask you to leave for this portion of the meeting. Attorney-client privilege conversation.”

Adriana gathers her bag and rises. “I’ll wait for you in the lobby.”

“You don’t need to do that. This could take a while.”

She places a hand on my shoulder and looks down at me gently. My heart swells with gratitude at the physical show of support. “I’ll wait for you in the lobby.”

After she leaves, Jared addresses me. “We need to start at the beginning.” Jared puts his smartphone on the table, awakens the device, and then opens an app. “I’ll need to record this conversation, but no one will hear this unless they are specifically working on your case and thus unable to discuss it with anyone else.” I nod my assent. “When did the abuse start?”

Shutting my eyes, a memory flashes before me in full color. A lacy white dress, hitting above my knees lying on the bed while David . . .”The night before our first wedding.”

The night I should have left him.

Three painful hours later, Adriana and I part ways outside Lindsay, Smith, and Cohen. I left no details out of my summary. Every ugly, dirty, shameful memory came pouring out. The verbal purge leaves me feeling as if I completed a brutal session with the trainer David had ordered me to visit weekly—exhausted and sedate. Adriana offers several times to have dinner with me, but I am too tired to socialize. I want to zone out and lose myself in bad reality TV.

“Oh!” I slam into a wall of muscle and start stumbling backward until two hands fasten themselves around my upper arms and right me. Fear jolts through my nerves, and I shrink backward.

“Karolina, it’s me.” His voice has an instantly soothing effect. The hands gentle on my arms. A familiar spicy scent makes my head snap up in surprise. My breath catches in my throat. Alec wears one of his dark gray tailored suits and a stark white shirt. Tieless. He looks at me with concern and all my terror disappears.

“Is gray your favorite color?”

A slow smile cuts underneath his beard, revealing his bright white teeth. “Don’t tell anyone, but a stylist buys my clothes. I don’t have the time or interest in shopping. He keeps coming back with gray, and I keep wearing it.”

Standing there, with the Miami sun shining on him and a light breeze filtering through my hair, I allow myself to get lost in him. How foolish I was to think to call this man a devil in a snap judgment. Instinctively, I step closer to him, wanting his protective warmth to spread over me.

“On your way home?” Alec closes the space between us. He shelters me from the outside world almost making me forget about the chaos that rules my life.

“I met with Jared. It went well,” I say.

“Do you want to talk about it over dinner?”

I shake my head. “I’m beat. Three hours of talking about myself and I’m sick of hearing the sound of my own voice. All I want is to kick my feet up and order in dinner.”

“Sounds good to me. I know a great pizza place that delivers. What do you like on your pie?” Alec nestles me into his side, pressing the tips of his fingers into the small of my back and walking in the direction of the Premier Tower.

“Well—er—I was thinking of being alone,” I stammer.

Alec pauses and shifts me to stand directly in front of him. “Yeah, I’m starting to get that. The thing is that I want to spend time with you. I want to spend all of my time with you, so I thought I’d give it a shot. If you really want to be alone, I’ll leave you here, but only because I will never push something on you that you don’t want. When you’re with me, you’ll always have a choice, Karo.”

I melt there a little, and it has nothing to do with the boiling temperatures.

“Spinach, onions, and mushrooms,” I breathe.

Alec chuckles a rich, husky baritone. “Consider it done.” We make our way into the lobby of the condo building.

“Need I ask what you were conveniently doing outside my temporary residence?”

“Adriana must have forgotten to tell you that my office is in the commercial section of PT,” he says deadpan.

A small laugh bubbles up in my chest, and I shake my head in exasperation. “What am I going to do with you, Alec Christos?”

The kiss he drops on the crown of my head is nothing but friendly. “Whatever you want, Karolina.”

While Alec orders dinner, I go into the bedroom to change into something more comfortable. I don’t want to impress him with stylish clothes. I’m done with the costumes and masks. The shirtdress goes into the—not color coordinated—closet. Instead of one of the silky negligees I used to wear to bed every night, I tug on ancient sweatpants and a white racerback tank top. I tie my hair in a sloppy ponytail and return to the living room.

Alec lingers in the same position I was earlier today, staring out to the turquoise waters as if they have the answers to all life’s questions. I’m used to Alec having the upper hand, seeing me before I see him, so I allow myself the pleasure of studying him unobserved. He lost the suit jacket when we got into the condo and rolled his shirtsleeves up. From this angle, I can’t see the strong lines of his profile, but I am able to see the way his broad shoulders flex beneath his shirt. Alec would never use his power and strength to punish. He glances over his shoulder, and when he catches me watching him, he doesn’t smirk or get cocky. He simply smiles and extends a welcoming hand. Alec Christos has an inescapable pull.

I give him my hand because it’s my choice. I let him tug me into his chest because I can step away if I want to. But I don’t want to. I want his friendship. Maybe I want more, but right now, all I can handle is friendship.

Alec pulls me against his side, his arm curls loosely around the line of my shoulders. On its own accord, my cheek falls to the flat planes of his chest. When his chin brushes against the crown of my head, his beard bristles against my scalp, leaving tiny, pleasurable tingles in its wake.

“Let’s just be.” His velvety voice breaks the silence.

My eyelids fall shut. I don’t analyze or judge or worry. The steady thump of Alec’s pulse lulls me into a peaceful state somewhere between sleep and wakefulness.

With Alec, I just be.

Karolina

L
ife goes on. Even if your fragile existence implodes, the Earth keeps spinning, the sun goes on shining, babies cry, couples get married, and parents drive their children to school. Watching the world continue to function encourages me to keep going.

Every morning, I wake up and head straight to the Premier Tower’s pool to lose myself in an hour of swimming. Then I cook myself breakfast and spend time working on Adriana’s gown. In the afternoon, if I don’t have a phone call with Jared to discuss legal developments, I look for a job. Surprise, surprise, there aren’t too many designers looking to hire a fashion school dropout. I am not giving up, only trying to be patient.

Without fail, Alec calls or makes a point to see me every day. We go to a restaurant that supposedly serves the best hamburgers in the state for lunch. He drops by the condo to see the progress on Adriana’s dress. Before—when I was with David—a sexual awareness simmered beneath the surface during our encounters. This time we, as Alec says, just ‘be’ together.

I avoid the news at all costs. No internet browsing or local television stations. Once Adriana confirmed the story was being covered on a national level, I actively put the negative stories at a distance. Thankfully, no one in the media got wind of me living at the Premier Tower. And with the rapid news cycle, the public has already moved on to another scandal.

I hope.

Critically, I study the dress form where I draped Adriana’s blood red dress earlier in the morning. I’ve thrust all of my creative energy into this gown. The dress is a welcome distraction and a reminder to me that I have something to offer, something other than crippling sadness. Ringing from my cell phone jolts me out of the fashion-induced trance. It is the security guard downstairs letting me know Adriana is here. The strict security is just one of the many reasons I love living in this place. I’ll be sad to say good-bye once I have enough money on my own to move out. Cracking the front door open a touch, I retreat to my makeshift studio to tidy the space. Sketchpads, needles, fabric, and fashion magazines lay around the space in disarray.

Adriana calls out a greeting and then I hear her heels clack against the hardwood floor as she crosses through the foyer.

“Back here!” I call, too busy placing pencils back into their case to notice a second pair of feminine shoes accompany Adriana.

“Do you ever stop working?” Her cultured voice makes me grin though my back is to the doorway.

“Trying to clean up. I don’t want you to know I’m a total slob.” I roll up the pencil bag and tie the ribbon securing it shut.

“The most brilliant minds are too busy creating to spend time cleaning,” a new voice enters the conversation, and I jump around, surprised by the smooth feminine voice.

“You’re—what are you doing here?” I ask in a moment of complete and immature, stunned adoration. Lourdes Herrera, also known as Lulu, the mythical force behind the most important fashion designer south of Manhattan is standing in the doorway. Realizing my lack of social graces, I press a hand against my cheek. “Forgive me. You’re Lulu, and I have admired your work for as long as I can remember. Can I get you something to drink?”

The willowy ash blonde doesn’t appear the least bit annoyed by my stammering. Instead, she smiles easily and raises a paper coffee cup. “I have something, thank you. Really, I should be the one apologizing to you. It’s awfully rude of me to show up at your home uninvited. But when Adriana told me who was designing her dress for the inaugural ball, I demanded she bring me along.”

Dumbfounded, my gaze darts back and forth between my friend and my idol like a Felix the Cat clock. “You want to see my work,” I repeat slowly to make sure what I heard wasn’t a mistake.

Adriana’s laugh radiates through the small room. “My friend here doesn’t quite grasp the extent of her talents.” She sweeps across the room to me and embraces me. Adriana moves her lips near my ear and speaks quietly, “We were having lunch and I mentioned you. She asked to come along. Don’t be upset.”

Somehow, I know my not-so-secret fairy godmother Adriana probably convinced Lourdes to tag along. “Upset? This is one of the best things that has ever happened to me,” I blurt much louder than I intend causing both ladies to laugh. A flush colors my cheeks. “Can we start over? I’m Karolina.” I extend my hand, and Lourdes shakes mine in greeting.

“Lourdes. I hope you don’t mind me popping in unannounced.” Her sky blue eyes twinkle mischievously, and I decide I like Lourdes as a real-life person and not just the woman I idolize.

“Don’t mind me. I promise I’ll get ahold of my fandom.” With a self-deprecating grin, I attempt to act normal. “Want to check out my progress?” This question is for Adriana who anxiously steps to the dress form, her gaze roving over the silk garment.

“Oh, Karolina, this will be perfect,” Adriana’s voice carries a note of awe. I let the pleasant sensations of pride wash over me.

I skirt my friend to gesture to the very daring sweetheart neckline. “We’ll tailor it exactly to your measurements when we have our first fitting. You won’t have to worry about wardrobe malfunctions. That’s why the boning and sewn-in cups will be there.”

All of a sudden, the designer is next to me. She rifles through the sketches lying next to the bust with critical inspection. “Marvelous,” Lourdes murmurs under her breath. My heart does a little happy dance at her praise, but I manage to keep my face straight. “Do you mind?” She gestures with her hand to the dress form.

The Mistress of Miami Fashion wants to handle my garment? As if it was even a question. “Please,” I answer quickly.

“Silk like this is quite difficult and yet the workmanship is impeccable.” Lourdes speaks more to herself than us, but I hear each complimentary word. “I wouldn’t be where I am if I didn’t stick my nose where it doesn’t belong,” Lourdes says suddenly. “This is by no means an insult to your ability to build your career, but would you consider working with me?”

I stare at Lourdes in complete shock. In fact, I’m pretty sure my jaw falls open.

She must take my silence as an insulted one because she hurries to say, “Of course, you want to be on your own—but perhaps this can be the launching pad for your career. You’ll have to forgive me, but I’ve never heard of you before today and that is truly a shame. A talent like yours should not be wasted. Come to my showroom on Friday and bring your portfolio, samples, whatever you have. No decisions need to be made now. We’ll talk.”