fact that she couldn’t pronounce the name was a clue that this was something she normally would not eat. Copying Alejandro, she cut the foie gras with the side of her fork and placed some on a small piece of toast. “And what is it, exactly?” she asked as she lifted the food to her mouth and took a bite. “What an odd texture,” she commented.
“You like?” He didn’t wait for her to answer as he spread some more on his own piece of bread. “I’m surprised. Most people do not care for raw duck liver.”
She stared at him, the rest of the toast with foie gras still in her hand. “Did you say ‘raw duck liver’?”
“They soak it in milk for a day before deveining it. An absolute delicacy, no?”
Horrified, Amanda dropped the toast from her hand and shoved the plate away from her, causing her water glass to topple over. The sound of glass clinking against the plate caused several heads to turn. “Alejandro!” she exclaimed. “How could you?”
Alejandro remained motionless, his mouth agape as he stared at her.
Raw duck liver? She could think of nothing more disgusting. If he hadn’t reacted with such ecstasy to the dish, she would have thought he’d just played a trick on her. The taste in her mouth repulsed her so that she reached across his plate and grabbed his water glass, drinking as much from it as she could.
When she looked up, she saw that he still hadn’t moved. People at the tables closest to them, the ones without an obstructed view of the alcove, stared at her, too. The din of the room faded, and she suddenly realized that it was because of her.
She looked around the room without moving her head, her eyes wide and her cheeks warm. “Oh help,” she mumbled.
To her surprise, Alejandro tossed his head back and burst into laughter, the sound resonating throughout the quiet of the room. The people seated nearby began to titter along with him and offer her benevolent smiles; one of them gave her a thumbs-up. Clearly, they had watched the entire scene unfold and, like Alejandro, found her reaction amusing.
Despite her embarrassment, Amanda composed herself and reached for her champagne glass. Casually, as if nothing had happened, she lifted it toward Alejandro and gave him a soft smile.
Alejandro shook his head, still chuckling as he reached for his glass, an amused expression on his face as he tilted his glass toward hers. “Here is to your brand image,” he quipped. “I knew you had it in you, mi amor .”
Chapter Seven
The bright lights shone down on Amanda, and she felt the intense heat of the high-wattage bulbs on her face. It felt as if her skin were baking under the intense blaze of illumination, especially with the light bouncing off the reflector umbrellas set up to keep her completely shadow-free in front of the white cloth backdrop.
As if the heat wasn’t bad enough, a small crowd of people also stared at her. Amanda felt more than self-conscious; she felt downright nervous and uncomfortable. She didn’t know who most of the people were or what purpose their presence served. In Viper’s world, every activity involved dozens of people, most of whom stood around and soaked in the energy of stardom without contributing, while just a few worked excessively, immune to the atmosphere of celebrity fame.
In the background, music blasted—every song one of Viper’s. She could barely concentrate on her own thoughts. The music was so loud, she could almost feel the floors shake in time with the bass. Some of the workers moved in rhythm to the music, their hips swaying and feet lifting as they danced in place. Others talked to each other, their voices raised and heads tipped close together so that they could hear each other over the blasting sound. And then there was the photographer who was now walking around Amanda, his knees bent and legs spread in a crab-like fashion as he snapped photos of her in a long, fast sequence.
“Come on, Amanda,” he said. There was an edge to
“You like?” He didn’t wait for her to answer as he spread some more on his own piece of bread. “I’m surprised. Most people do not care for raw duck liver.”
She stared at him, the rest of the toast with foie gras still in her hand. “Did you say ‘raw duck liver’?”
“They soak it in milk for a day before deveining it. An absolute delicacy, no?”
Horrified, Amanda dropped the toast from her hand and shoved the plate away from her, causing her water glass to topple over. The sound of glass clinking against the plate caused several heads to turn. “Alejandro!” she exclaimed. “How could you?”
Alejandro remained motionless, his mouth agape as he stared at her.
Raw duck liver? She could think of nothing more disgusting. If he hadn’t reacted with such ecstasy to the dish, she would have thought he’d just played a trick on her. The taste in her mouth repulsed her so that she reached across his plate and grabbed his water glass, drinking as much from it as she could.
When she looked up, she saw that he still hadn’t moved. People at the tables closest to them, the ones without an obstructed view of the alcove, stared at her, too. The din of the room faded, and she suddenly realized that it was because of her.
She looked around the room without moving her head, her eyes wide and her cheeks warm. “Oh help,” she mumbled.
To her surprise, Alejandro tossed his head back and burst into laughter, the sound resonating throughout the quiet of the room. The people seated nearby began to titter along with him and offer her benevolent smiles; one of them gave her a thumbs-up. Clearly, they had watched the entire scene unfold and, like Alejandro, found her reaction amusing.
Despite her embarrassment, Amanda composed herself and reached for her champagne glass. Casually, as if nothing had happened, she lifted it toward Alejandro and gave him a soft smile.
Alejandro shook his head, still chuckling as he reached for his glass, an amused expression on his face as he tilted his glass toward hers. “Here is to your brand image,” he quipped. “I knew you had it in you, mi amor .”
Chapter Seven
The bright lights shone down on Amanda, and she felt the intense heat of the high-wattage bulbs on her face. It felt as if her skin were baking under the intense blaze of illumination, especially with the light bouncing off the reflector umbrellas set up to keep her completely shadow-free in front of the white cloth backdrop.
As if the heat wasn’t bad enough, a small crowd of people also stared at her. Amanda felt more than self-conscious; she felt downright nervous and uncomfortable. She didn’t know who most of the people were or what purpose their presence served. In Viper’s world, every activity involved dozens of people, most of whom stood around and soaked in the energy of stardom without contributing, while just a few worked excessively, immune to the atmosphere of celebrity fame.
In the background, music blasted—every song one of Viper’s. She could barely concentrate on her own thoughts. The music was so loud, she could almost feel the floors shake in time with the bass. Some of the workers moved in rhythm to the music, their hips swaying and feet lifting as they danced in place. Others talked to each other, their voices raised and heads tipped close together so that they could hear each other over the blasting sound. And then there was the photographer who was now walking around Amanda, his knees bent and legs spread in a crab-like fashion as he snapped photos of her in a long, fast sequence.
“Come on, Amanda,” he said. There was an edge to
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