Falling for Her Husband (8 page)

Chapter Twelve

“Oh, darling, you’re beautiful!” Debbie Kaye swept Amber into her arms, squeezing her close before she grabbed her by the shoulders and gently forced her away, keeping her at arms’ length. “Look at you. You’ve gained weight.”

Amber’s cheeks heated and she tilted her head, rolling her eyes. “My husband wants to fatten me up, I think.”

“Fat and happy, isn’t that a saying?” Debbie’s assessing gaze swept up and down, up and down as she kept hold of Amber’s shoulders. “You look amazing,” she declared.

“You just said I was fat.”

“No, I said you put on weight. I never said it looked bad. And you could lose it quick, right?” Debbie finally released her hold on Amber’s shoulders. “Hmm, look at those real curves. Hips. Boobs. And that scar…”

Amber’s heart lurched almost painfully. God, she hated the scar. “It’s bad, isn’t it?” She reached up, drew her fingers across the raised skin. The bandage had been removed a week ago and she’d been pleasantly surprised to find it wasn’t as deep as she’d originally thought.

But now, in front of her modeling agent, the most particular person in the entire universe, she was afraid it looked terrible.

“No. Not at all.” Debbie smiled and shook her head. “I thought it would be far worse, I must admit.”

Leave it to Debbie. She was always so blunt, so brutally honest. Her attitude was what made her one of the best agents in the business. “I have an appointment with a plastic surgeon next week.”

“What about the arm?” Debbie waved a hand at Amber’s arm, which had recently been put in a soft brace.

“I don’t have full mobility. I probably never will,” Amber admitted. At least it didn’t hurt anymore. The incessant throbbing pain had finally stopped for the most part, thank goodness.

“You know how you always pose in those weird angles. I’m sure the arm will be even more of an advantage now.” Debbie clapped her hands together once. “So. When can I put you back on the books? We’ve had plenty of requests. You’re still in demand, maybe even more so since the accident. Everyone wants a piece of you.”

A surge of adrenaline powered through Amber, making her skin feel like it was vibrating. She couldn’t believe what Debbie was saying. She figured the minute she disappeared everyone would forget about her. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious, my darling. You are one of the hottest commodities at the agency and look at you, full of shock. You don’t even know it. The Italian
Vogue
cover sent you right over the edge, you know,” Debbie explained. “Everyone wants you.”

Amber went to one of the overstuffed chairs in Debbie’s office and collapsed in it, surprised pleasure sweeping over her. “Do you know I’ve never even seen that cover?”

“
What
?” Debbie shrieked, running to her bookshelf to thumb through a stack of magazines piled there. “Oh my God, darling, you must see it. It’s divine. I know I have it here somewhere…ha! Here it is. Look, look.”

She brought the thick copy of Italian
Vogue
to Amber and offered it to her. Amber took the magazine from Debbie’s outstretched hands as if in a daze, her gaze dropping to the cover. There she was, in stark black and white, black eyeliner smudged under her eyes in a messy, edgy style, her shadowy hair in complete yet artful disarray. She looked bleak, desolate, her eyes empty.

“You’re absolutely stunning,” Debbie raved, her voice full of reverence. “Gorgeous. Look at your face. God, I want to pinch your cheeks so badly right now. I’m so glad to see you in the flesh again I can hardly stand it. You put everyone else to complete shame.”

“Debbie,” Amber chastised, shaking her head. She couldn’t take her eyes off the image that stared back up at her. The image that was her. She was blown away by how…different she looked.

How unhappy she looked.

Couldn’t Debbie see it? She could. It was written all over her face, especially in her eyes. The unhappiness, the sadness, the absolute disgust. When had these photos been taken? What in the world had she been thinking as she posed for the camera?

“Manuel wants to work with you again. In fact, he’s dying to work with you. He calls once a week, asking if you’re back,” Debbie said.

Amber glanced up, frowning. “Who’s Manuel?”

Debbie tapped the magazine cover. “The photographer who took these photos, darling. I believe he was quite enamored with you.” Debbie smiled wickedly. “And if I remember correctly, I think you were rather taken with him yourself.”

“But…but I’m married.”

“So? That never seemed to stop you before.”

“Are you serious?” Amber lowered her voice, disgust and horror racing through her veins. “Have I been…unfaithful to Vince?”

“Of course not!” Debbie laughed. “You were always such a good girl. Always wanting to do the right thing. But that didn’t stop you from flirting incessantly. Everyone can flirt, right? It’s all harmless good fun.”

Harmless good fun until someone—namely her husband—found out she’d been flirting constantly with other men. Men she worked with, men she spent too much time with.

Why would she do that? Flirting was a part of the business she knew, but…

No way could she have contemplated thoughts of being disloyal to Vince?

“When is your meeting with the plastic surgeon?” Debbie asked, interrupting Amber’s thoughts.

“Soon.” Amber offered her a weak smile as she handed the magazine back. “I’ll let you know what they say.”

“Please do. We could even put you back on the books now, you know. The scar doesn’t matter. Their photo manipulation skills get better as each hour passes, I swear. Or they can take your photos from an angle,” Debbie suggested, excitement dancing in her eyes.

Amber shoved the magazine at her again and Debbie glanced down, frowning at the magazine. “You don’t want to keep it?” she asked when she lifted her head and met Amber’s gaze.

Amber hated the cover. It represented something foreign to her. Something unknown. And that something unknown was…her.

“You keep it, Debbie,” she said, her voice low, her thoughts a jumble. “My sister-in-law mentioned she had a copy. I’ll get hers.”

Debbie watched her with those see-everything eyes. “You don’t like it.”

“I don’t remember it,” Amber stressed. “That’s a different thing.”

“You were a little bitter then,” Debbie said, her gaze locked on the cover. “Irritated with the world.”

“Why?” She had to ask. Wanted to know.

Debbie lifted her head, her steady gaze meeting Amber’s. “Your husband was being rather demanding on your time and you had none to give. He wanted different things, like children. From what you told me, I had a feeling you were at the end of your rope.”

Amber’s heart sunk. “Were we fighting?”

“Not so much fighting…I wouldn’t call it that. More like he was telling you what to do and you were rebelling against it. As much as you could, I should say. He didn’t allow much room for rebellion when it came to you,” Debbie said with a soft laugh. “He snapped his fingers and, for the most part, you went running.”

“Because I love him,” Amber said.

“Because you were anxious to please him and didn’t want to make him angry,” Debbie said wryly. “He had quite the temper sometimes. Or so you told me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Amber didn’t like what Debbie was implying. The way she just said that…it almost sounded like she was hinting that Vince was abusive. Amber found that hard to believe. She’d dealt with enough emotional abuse from her father to last her a lifetime.

No way would she tolerate that sort of treatment.

Debbie waved her hand, dismissing her words. “Don’t be so sensitive. Clearly you’re completely enamored with your husband again, which I find delightfully sweet. Good for you, for making it work with the macho Italian, Vincenzo Renaldi. You two make a beautiful couple.”

Funny, how those simple words that sounded like a compliment rang in Amber’s head as she left the agency.

You two make a beautiful couple.

The sarcasm in Debbie’s voice had been clear. She didn’t approve of Amber’s relationship with Vince.

But why?

Vince had left work early to beat Amber home and he’d made it with at least thirty minutes to spare. She’d texted him when she’d arrived at her modeling agency, letting him know she was meeting with Debbie Kaye.

He’d never been a fan of Debbie and he knew the feeling was mutual. They both wanted a piece of Amber. He felt it was his right as her husband. Debbie had felt it was her right as Amber’s agent and controller of her career. She’d even threatened Vince once, right after they got married and Amber had insisted they throw a huge party for all her friends. Debbie had cornered him at the restaurant they closed down specifically for the party, in the deepest, darkest corner she could find so no one else would hear her.

She belongs to me. You may have convinced her to marry you and give her endless orgasms every night, but she’s mine. Long after your relationship is over, she will still be with me. And don’t you ever forget it.

Talk about possessive. He’d been so head over heels in love with Amber he’d brushed off Debbie’s threat.

Now, though, he wondered. Had she poisoned Amber into believing he was no good for her? Had she been the one encouraging Amber to dump him for good? Not that Amber couldn’t think for herself, but he didn’t understand how they could go from being so completely in love to everything falling apart day by day, week by week until Amber was asking for a divorce. It seemed to happen fast, without any real explanation.

It had never made any sense.

To temper her meeting with Debbie, he decided to surprise Amber with takeout dinner from her favorite restaurant and then a romantic evening…naked in bed. They hadn’t made love in almost a week and he knew it was because she’d been dealing with some heavy stuff. The scar on her face upset her. Her struggle with physical therapy for her arm frustrated her too. She was feeling self-conscious and low, and that was why he hadn’t discouraged her when she told him she was meeting with Debbie today.

If she’d done the same right after her accident, he would’ve discouraged her from going. He’d been fearful, of her finding out he’d deceived her about the accident and afraid that Debbie would say something detrimental about him and their relationship. Why the woman was hell bent on driving a wedge between them he had no idea. He just wanted her to disappear.

But time had passed. He and Amber were in love. She was going to therapy with her psychologist and it was helping. He couldn’t begrudge her anything that would help her heal. He wanted her healed.

He just flat out wanted her.

His phone dinged, indicating he had a text, and he pulled it out of his pocket to see it was Amber saying she was almost home. He went to work, grabbing two plates, setting the food and silverware on the table and pulling out a bottle of chilled wine. He hurriedly changed out of his work clothes, throwing on a T-shirt and old pair of jeans, wanting to be comfortable and relaxed. Wanting Amber comfortable and relaxed as well.

“I’m home,” she called as she entered the apartment, the door slamming shut behind her. Vince came out to greet her with a glass of wine and a kiss.

“Welcome home,” he murmured against her lips.

She smiled and took the wine he offered, sipping quickly from the glass. “Thank you. What did I do to earn such a pleasant welcome?”

“I wanted to make sure you had a good afternoon.” He took her purse from her arm and set it on the couch, then took her hand and led her to the dining room.

Amber stopped short when she saw all the food spread out on the table, the lit candles flickering in the center. “Is dinner from my favorite restaurant in the whole entire world?”

“Yes.” He slipped his arms around her from behind and kissed the side of her neck. “Are you hungry?”

“Starving.” She rested her hands over his, tilting her head to give him better access. “Though I should stop eating so much. Debbie said I’ve gained weight.”

Vince stiffened, lifting his head to stare incredulously into Amber’s eyes. Fury buzzed within him and he tried to shove it down. “I can’t believe she would say such a thing to you.”

“Oh, don’t take it wrong. She said I looked good. I have curves now.” She turned in his embrace, smiling up at him. “Do you like my curves?”

He settled his hands on her flared hips, his gaze dropping to her breasts straining beneath her sweater. “I love your curves.” He gripped her hips, pulling her into him so she could feel just how much he loved her.

Laughing, Amber wound her arms around his neck, her fingers playing with the ends of his hair. “You love them naked.”

“I love everything about you.” His expression, his tone of voice turned serious. He wanted her to know just how much she meant to him. Would always mean to him.

“I know.” She lifted up on tiptoe and kissed him soundly on the lips. “I love you too. Now let’s eat our dinner before it gets cold.”

“Sounds good.” He released his hold on her, watching as she settled in her chair. He did the same. “And no holding back. I want you to eat all of your favorite dishes until you’re stuffed.”

“Such a taskmaster,” she said teasingly.

They ate and talked, Vince encouraging her to have second helpings, Amber jokingly protesting but doing it anyway. She smiled and laughed, reminding him of the Amber he’d first met and fell in love with, though she did become serious when she spoke of her visit with Debbie.

“I saw my Italian
Vogue
cover,” she said as she pushed her plate away.

Vince took a sip from his mostly empty wineglass, feigning nonchalance. “What did you think?” He hated that cover. It reminded him of the day he flew to New York to reclaim his wife. How angry he’d been. How sad. Seeing the magazine at the airport gift shop, staring at his wife in a dumbfounded stupor, he couldn’t believe it was Amber he’d been looking at.

She was unrecognizable in that photo. He’d been proud of her, but that didn’t mean he liked the cover. It was a bad memory that reminded him of a different time. A painful time in their lives, in their marriage.