Page 46 of No Darker Temptation

As soon as the thought takes form, I scorn myself for it. I need to focus on this stupid party before I lose my mind.

There’s a line outside the door that wraps around the block, men in elegant evening wear and women in dazzling cocktail dresses, each couple more affluent than the last. My stomach rolls as I pass them, catching snippets of conversations in both rapid Catalan and heavily accented Spanish I cannot understand.

Integrating our lives hasn’t been much of a challenge. In fact, I’ve loved every minute of it. Meeting his family a few months ago, attending the company’s anniversary party, and all the moments in between. He carries me on his arm with pride, eager to introduce me any chance he gets, no matter how embarrassed it makes me sometimes.

However, Barcelona high society is as foreign to me as the language I’m struggling to master. Tonight, Alejandro is hosting the recently elected mayor, Eduardo Saenz. I don’t know a thing about Spanish politics, only that there was an election held at the end of May and in a stunning turn of events, the unpopular incumbent managed to swing a second term despite his reputation being on the rocks. Most of it stems from his extramarital affairs and while others may have initially turned a blind eye to his indiscretions, things changed when rumors spread of his mistress’s lavish lifestyle being funded by government money.

A thought flickers to the surface of my mind that Regina would know what to do here. Aside from the fact that she’d actually be able to communicate with them, she’d know everyone’s names, where they’re from, why they’re important. No one would regard her with the disdain I feel every time someone’s gaze lingers a little too long on my body. I thought a strapless satin black dress would do the trick; a timeless classic whose straight neckline and tasteful hemline hug my figure without suffocating it. Except, all the other women are dressed far more conservatively.

Sheath dresses with high collars, pearl necklaces and diamond bracelets. Long flowing skirts and billowy shirtsleeves whose shimmering fabrics catch the candlelight. Alejandro was something of a bachelor before I arrived, one I understand most women had their eyes on. And while it should be a compliment to the ego knowing I’m the one who has him hook, line, and sinker, I’d much rather be invisible in this moment.

I bet Regina would’ve never dressed like this.

Streamers have been strung from one end of the lounge to the other. Floral arrangements in glistening crystal vases—abundant with all manner of rose, lily, chrysanthemum, and buttercup—sit at the center of round tables in every shade of orange, yellow, and red, with hints of green. Upon closer inspection, I notice that on every cloth napkin resting at the center of a gold charger plate, there’s a delicate dahlia embroidered at the bottom. It’s a small detail anyone else may have missed but one I linger on.

My eyes scan the crowd in search of Alejandro. People mingle by the bar, over which a gold and black banner hangs, announcing the name of the evening’s esteemed guest. With every step I take, the LED floors installed for tonight glow red and gold, some sort of timer or sensitivity setting allowing the twinkle beneath my feet to follow wherever I go. The tables are covered in wine-red cloths and a band plays soft music on the elevated stage near the stairs from which Alejandro descends.

And he isn’t alone.

A woman follows close behind in a little silver dress, modest in cut and shape, but she has the figure to carry it well. Paired with pointed stilettos and sapphires around her throat and wrists, she looks every bit a moonlight goddess. A burst of freckles covers her nose and the apples of her tan cheeks and the light shade of her brown eyes complement the hues of gold in her dirty blonde hair, styled in Old Hollywood waves down her back. I might be more vexed if Lettie and Diego didn’t descend a second later, engrossed in conversation.

Alejandro says something to which Lettie delivers a quick retort and the woman laughs. They reach the landing and Diego and Lettie head in the opposite direction, leaving the woman with a smile on her face and her hand on Alejandro’s arm. He smiles a real smile at her, genuinely pleased to see her, and when she leans in, he puts his hands on her shoulders as they kiss on both cheeks.

I’ve never flown across a room so quickly before.

“—gusto verte!”

Alejandro opens his mouth to reply but something catches his attention and he turns his head, doing a swift doubletake when he realizes it’s me. He breaks out into a smile and turns to the woman. “Aquí viene.”

He makes his way down the last few landing steps and stops in front of me. He leans down and steals a kiss before his hand finds the small of my back. The woman steps down from the landing and smiles, the expression flawless and practiced.

“Usted debe ser Dahlia. Soy Pilar Neyra Solier. Alejandro y yo nos conocemos hace años”

“Dahlia—”

“Encantada.” I take her outstretched hand and give a pinched smile of my own. “Qué raro que Alejandro nunca te haya mencionado antes.”

As soon as the words leave my mouth I want to vomit. Pilar doesn’t seem to notice.

She tilts her head at me, hand weakly gripping mine in a loose shake, her practiced smile tightening just a centimeter. If she and Alejandro were such good friends then he would’ve mentioned her before…at least, I think he would’ve. If I’m being honest, I have no idea who his friends are, if he even has any, and how close he is to them. We’ve only been together six full months and most of that time he’s been drowning in work, traveling without rest, and when he is home he spends that time with me.

Am I missing something?

Once more, I’m reminded of what Regina told me this afternoon.

I’ve known him a decade and you’ve been here a grand total of twelve months.

Regina would know about Pilar. Of that, I’m absolutely certain.

“Hm,” is all Pilar can manage in response.

We engage in a stare off that has more to do with my lack of proficiency in the language I just made a scene in and little do with my annoyance. In fact, it ebbs away almost as quickly as it sparked to life and Pilar eventually excuses herself. As soon as she’s gone, Alejandro turns to say something and I hold up a hand.

“Don’t even. I still can’t order water with ice if you held a gun to my head.”

I leave him at the foot of the landing and make my way to the bar where I fetch a flute of champagne and finish it in record time. Not only am I out of my element but I threw a little jealous fit and probably shouldn’t have. Ugh. Which means I’m going to have to apologize.

I really hate doing that.