Page 69 of The Gilded Survivor

There were more paparazzi outside, and the anticipation was palpable while we pushed open the glass doors. Javier and Manuel flanked us on either side, so I flashed them a smile.

Then I saw young children waiting with their hands outstretched and shame leaked in. One of them wore a too-large plastic crown and my heart broke. The niñera looked far kinder than the ones that had helped raise me, but I knew what it felt like to have hopes big enough for the whole sky.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Señor Castillas walking with his hands in his pockets. I looked back at the kids, and thought of Pablo.

I couldn’t help myself. I walked over to the children, and the crowd grew louder.

More reporters shoved microphones and cameras forward, but I could hardly see them; my attention was focused on the small boy standing next to the girl in the crown.

“Renata!” Roared at me from all angles, but Javier and Manuel had caught up and were creating a human shield around my body.

The boy was looking at me with wide eyes, and the girl was smiling big enough for her cheeks to touch her ears.

“Hola,” I said gently, and the boy jumped up and down. Glancing up at the niñera, I canted my head to the side and asked, “May I?”

She nodded, still obviously shocked herself.

After lifting the tape meant to separate the press from the competitors—not unlike a corral—I let the kids come out and hug me. One of them kissed my cheek, and I grinned when a familiar raincloud darkened the ground in front of me.

“Renata will not be taking anymore pictures. Buenas noches!” Antonio called.

The children hurried back to their small group, and I stood up. He was smiling, but I knew I was in trouble. I waved once more, and continued to the car.

Antonio was back to being short with our personal exchanges words. Almost like he wanted to hurt me. He did smile, but it was carefully arranged. All for the cameras.

I wanted us to go back to the friendliness that had flowed between us earlier. “Why did you do that?” I said through a false smile.

Antonio was a ventriloquist. “Leave the pretty image to Alvaro Martinez.”

My publicist. I let out a long breath. “That’s not why I did this. Look, I know how hard it is for you to be in this situation. You’ve made it very clear how you feel about all of this, but you are helping me out. Even if it’s not—”

“Carmen,” Antonio hissed quietly, and stopped right in front of his car. “You talk too much, repeating the same thing over and over. I don’t care why you did it, and you know that I am helping you for myself as much as you. How about we agree we don’t have to pretend in front of each other?”

I paused as we neared the cars. “But I am grateful for your help.”

The man next to me huffed. “Then show me how grateful you are by winning.” Antonio flashed me a saccharine sweet smile, which made my stomach flip.

“¡Buenas noches!” a person called out near us. Antonio waved back, but I didn’t turn around to see who it was.

I opened my mouth to say something more to Antonio, but he opened up the car door and slid inside. The air was on fire with flashes, and I was getting a headache.

Javier and Manuel were right at the front of the car, and I said, “I would much rather be driving home with you two.”

Javier, who rarely spoke, said, “Not tonight, Señorita. We’ll see you back at Rosa de Oro.”

“Damn,” I said.

I had no choice but to follow Antonio.

For the rest of the night, he barely looked at me. He had invited a new group of men over for dinner, and we all sat in the same room as lunch, eating our merienda while they chatted over the weather, art, and politics. They seldom asked my opinion, and I wasn’t upset about that. I wouldn’t have known what to say, anyway. Having learned my lesson from the night before, I avoided the wine.

When the party was over, Antonio barely acknowledged me. Our interactions were overly formal, and ended abruptly when he called for Isolda to help me prepare for bed at a reasonable hour.

It wasn’t until much later, as I was tossing and turning, replaying the entire evening, that I wondered if his coldness had been brought on by my interaction with Isaac.

Was Isaac’s family questionable?

Isaac had been chosen by another highly sought after mentor. He seemed like perfectly fine company to me, especially after he had somewhat saved me.

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