Chapter 32
Chapter
Thirty-Two
Alana
Alejandro looks so handsome in his tuxedo, and his amorous affections in the car on the way here have me a trembling, hot mess while we take the elevator to the lobby.
It’s almost a shame we have to go to the awards dinner, although it will be nice to meet some of his friends and business associates—the legitimate ones who I expect will be at this dinner, anyway.
The elevator stops at the lobby, and we step out, straight into the path of two blond goddesses. I don’t think I’ve seen two more stunning and elegant-looking women in my life. They have the kind of cheekbones that could carve ice.
“Alejandro,” the slightly taller one says, clapping her hands with delight.
“We’ve been wondering where you were.” Ignoring my presence, she wraps her arms around his neck and gives him a kiss on each cheek.
The second woman does the same while I stand awkwardly at his side, feeling, and probably looking, like a Z-list extra at an A-lister’s movie premiere.
To his credit, Alejandro keeps his hand on the small of my back throughout this exchange and introduces me as soon as he’s able. “Ladies, this is my wife, Alana.”
I hold out my hand in greeting. They both look at it and then at me as though I’m something stuck to the bottom of their Jimmy Choos. Feeling like I’m back in high school talking to the mean girls, I let my arm fall to my side and will the ground to swallow me whole.
“Alana, this is Keira.” He indicates the taller one. “And Michaela.”
They give me a half-assed fake smile and turn all their attention back to my husband. “Where have you been, Alejandro?” Michaela places her hand on his free arm. “We’ve missed you.”
He clears his throat and checks his watch.
“This thing is about to start. We should take our seats, and I’m needed on stage.
” He slips his hand in mine, bids his friends goodbye, and strides to the ballroom with me struggling to keep up with him in my heels.
Is he worried he’ll be late for his opening speech?
Or is he trying to get away—or get me away—from Michaela and Keira?
“Who are those women?” I ask.
“No one important.” I stop in my tracks, causing him to stop too, and he turns to me and sighs. “What is it?”
“Are they your ex-girlfriends?” They look exactly like some of the women I’ve seen him with in magazines—impossibly skinny, tall, blond, and beautiful.
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I dated them both for a few weeks, that’s all.”
“At the same time?”
He at least has the good grace to look a little chagrined about that. “Yes.”
Jesus! He dated those two goddesses at the same time? Just how much woman does one man need? “How many weeks is a few?”
He yanks me closer, having to dip his head so he can speak in my ear without being overheard. “I have a past, Alana. I’ve dated plenty of women, and we are going to run into them occasionally. But they are in my past. So please stop acting like a spoiled child and behave yourself.”
I glare at him, annoyance prickling beneath my skin. He knows that accusing me of acting like a spoiled child pushes my buttons. Now I have to behave, or I’ll risk having him say he was proven right.
I plaster a fake smile on my face and remind myself that it’s me he’s with. Me he’s married to. He’s right—I knew he had a past, and he’s not responsible for my insecurities. “Fine. Let’s go.”
The awards dinner turns out to be entertaining. Alejandro and I are seated at a table with the mayor and his lovely wife, Lorna, as well as a few city council officials, and I’ve enjoyed talking all things politics with them.
Alejandro joins in too. His knowledge of the inner workings of the LA machine is impressive, and I find myself having an enjoyable evening.
My husband is charming and funny, and he has these people eating out of the palm of his hand. I’m having such a good time that I no longer give a second’s thought to the way his ex-girlfriends looked at me earlier or how small they made me feel.
I excuse myself to use the powder room, and I’m sitting in one of the stalls when I hear Michaela’s voice. “Oh my god, can you believe Alejandro married that?”
“I know,” Keira replies. “I saw her in that magazine article and thought they must have caught her at a bad angle, but nope—she’s just fat.” The two of them burst out laughing.
I choke down a sob, not wanting to alert them to my presence. I am not fat! Curvy, yes.
“He is sooo out of her league,” Michaela adds. “Have you seen how she squeezed herself into that ridiculous dress? Ugh! What the hell was he thinking?”
Cue more laughter.
“Oh, honey, it won’t last. It never does.
And she’s clearly not his type.” She makes an oinking noise now.
Bitch! If I didn’t have tears streaming down my face, I would march out there and give them a piece of my mind.
But I’m no longer Alana Montoya; I’m Alana the book nerd who got teased in high school for not being … well, for not being enough.
“Do you think he likes to do all that freaky stuff with her?” Michaela asks.
“God, no! Could you imagine her? I bet she’s a strictly missionary-with-the-lights-off kind of girl.” They shriek with laughter.
“I’m sure he’ll be looking for something more to his usual tastes soon enough,” Keira says. “Maybe we can convince him to send her home early tonight and remind him exactly what he’s missing.”
They carry on talking about me as they leave the powder room, and salty tears run down my cheeks. I wipe them away with the back of my hand and take a deep breath.
What a pair of vapid bitches.
Alejandro has fulfilled his role for the evening. Perhaps I’ll ask him if we can leave. The night isn’t fun anymore, and I want to change out of my dress and into my comfy pajamas.
I fix my makeup in the mirror and walk out of the restroom with my head held high. I’m making my way back to our table when I see them draped over my husband while they all laugh.
Are they laughing at me?
Tears burn hot and fierce, and the realization that I don’t belong here hits me like a punch to the stomach. Keira and Michaela look like they were born to be here. Like they belong on his arm.
I’m acutely aware of my ample breasts straining to break out of my dress and the way I squeezed myself into it earlier. God, I must look like a complete fool. Is everyone at the table laughing at me now?
My tears threaten to break free, but I refuse to let any of them see me cry. I spin on my heel and flee to the elevators. I’ll sneak out through the service entrance and catch a cab home. Alejandro can have his blond goddesses tonight and leave me the hell alone.
I make it through the lobby and into the elevator, but I’m greeted by one of Alejandro’s guards when the doors open.
“Good evening, Mrs. Montoya,” José says with a smile. “I’m afraid I can’t let you leave just yet.”
“Why not?” I go to walk out of the elevator, but José blocks my path.
“Because Mr. Montoya has asked me to escort you to his suite.”
“What?” It’s been two minutes. How the hell does he even know I’m gone?
“If you’ll step back from the doors, I’ll take you up there now.”
“No. I’m leaving.” I try to push my way past him.
He holds up his hands, but he still places his body in front of me, preventing me leaving. “I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.”
I put my hands on my hips and glare at him. “What are you going to do? Carry me up there? I’m pretty sure your boss wouldn’t be very happy if you manhandled his property.”
“I’m sure he wouldn’t, ma’am. But he’d be even more unhappy if I let you leave here and didn’t escort you to his suite. So I’ll take my chances.”
He’s serious. All I can do is hope to appeal to his better nature. “Please, José, I just want to go home.”
He at least looks contrite, but he shakes his head. “I can’t.”
“Fine.” I slump back against the wall in defeat.
José accompanies me to the top floor and shows me to Alejandro’s suite. “Goodnight, Mrs. Montoya,” he says before closing the door behind him.
I pull on the handle as soon as he’s gone and confirm it’s locked.
Damn Alejandro!
How dare he keep me prisoner until he deems fit to grace me with his presence. I have no idea how long he’s planning to make me wait for him to finish flirting with his ex-girlfriends.
I kick off my heels and pace the beautiful suite. If I weren’t so damn mad, I could be enjoying the breathtaking view of the Los Angeles skyline.
When I grow tired of pacing, I plop down on the sofa and glare at the door, waiting for the devil to arrive.
A few moments later, he does.