Page 84 of Deliverance

My traitorous mind wanders back to the moment Rhys hit me for the very first time. We were approaching our wedding anniversary and I’d just bought a pair of strappy sandals for our celebratory date. It didn’t even hurt. Not at first. The shock wiped my brain clean, stripped it of all its senses, including the sense of self-preservation. I’d never been slapped before and I’d never expected it from my own husband, and for a second, I considered it a dream. A bad, twisted dream that would end soon. The pain came in waves as I stared at him with my mouth agape and my palm on my cheek. There was no blood then. He didn’t try hard enough, but he had years to perfect his blows.

You’re not wearing this, Andrea. Return it.

“Can you get someone to meet me?” Santiago’s voice punches me back to reality.

“Sorry.” The security detail probably doesn’t have the updated list yet. “I’ll be right there.”

I kill the call and hurry to the back entrance.

Private events like tonight tend to attract a very colorful crowd. Paparazzi, fans of the celebs in attendance, stalkers, and other nutjobs. It’s a given in a city this big and vibrant. Security is always doubled when big names are involved, and somehow, Tina was able to do the unspeakable. She procured over two dozen major entertainment industry players. A couple of A-list actors. A movie producer. A basketball star. A lifestyle blogger. A CEO of a huge makeup brand. A model who appeared on the cover of a leading magazine for women last month. Hence the hiccup at the doors.

Coincidentally, I bump into Tina as I round the corner on my way out.

Armed with an iPad and an earpiece, she looks like she just stepped off the battlefield. Her silver-gray pantsuit is impeccable. Not a single wrinkle. The stress is in her posture, in her eyes, in the lines creasing the corners of her mouth and her forehead. Her gaze slides down my body to take in my outfit—a fitted chiffon dress that widens below my knees and boots that make me feel nothing but guilty. The price tag was scandalous.

“You should lose that beaded necklace. You already have too much going on.”

Tina’s a perfectionist, and normally, she doesn’t tell me what to wear, but she insisted I use her stylist for tonight’s showing. Needless to say, the girl and I didn’t feel a rapport. On the contrary. It was a war of the worlds.

“I’ll think about it,” I say noncommittally.

She decides to move on from the topic. “Gerard fromLe Jadejust arrived. Lucia set him up in the upstairs lounge.”

“Already?” I cringe and stare at my phone. “I thought we agreed on no interviews the day of the showing?”

“Dear”—her expression shifts from serious to positively aggressive—“you want to talk to Gerard. Trust me. Besides, you knew he was on standby.”

I recognize this tone. It’s not used often and hardly ever on me, but it usually means that Tina is onto something. Something big. And there’s no point in arguing with her.

“I’ll see him in ten minutes,” I tell her as I burst into a sprint down the corridor. My pulse roars in my temples and my stomach turns over. I don’t recollect ever being this nervous, even during my very first showing.

Santiago is waiting for me in the alley. Clad in a pair of burgundy slacks and a black button-up shirt with the small diamond studs in his ears that catch the golden afternoon light, he looks dangerously gorgeous.

“Wow! You clean up nice.” A smile stretches my lips.

“So do you, babe.” He leans in for an air kiss and slides his wrist around the crook of my arm.

“He’s with me,” I explain as we pass the security guard.

Inside, the din of the city traffic fades away and I take a moment to simply enjoy the silence before the guests storm the gallery.

“You seem kinda skittish. What’s going on?” Santiago notes while we continue our walk, my booted footsteps thick and loud against the concrete floor. The experience is strangely unique. It feels like I’m wearing armor below my knees and nothing over the upper part of my body. The dress is so light and soft, sometimes I forget it’s there.

“I’m not sure I’m cut out for this—famous people judging my work.” There’s no point in lying. “I couldn’t keep any food down.” Plus, I’m not comfortable sharing this tidbit with Tina. She seems on edge. Adding more fuel to the fire doesn’t feel right and Santiago has always been a great listener.

“Girlfriend.” Santiago shakes his head. “You need to eat.”

“There’ll be some hors-d'oeuvres.”

“Hors-d'oeuvres aren’t real food.”

“I already have a mother.”

“She didn’t come?”

There’s a pause as I halt in front of Tina’s office. Santiago follows suit, and, sensing my turbulence, takes both my hands in his.

“She always finds an excuse whenever I ask her to fly out here,” I say simply.

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