Secrets Of The A-List Box Set, Volume 3

He smiled to himself as he entered the immaculate chef’s kitchen.

“Mr. Scott, you didn’t have to come out. I was just about to bring this in to you,” the chef said, sliding two large bowls of popcorn onto a tray.

Thom waved him away. “It’s fine. I needed to stretch my legs. And my wife isn’t exactly known for her patience.”

He watched the chef sprinkle cinnamon on one bowl and extra butter on the other before he took the tray and made his way back across the sunken living room and through a series of hallways back to the screening room.

Second only to the pool, the villa’s sumptuous red-leathered upholstered private cinema had become their favorite place. And they’d been making vigorous use of it so far. Elana was sprawled on a lounger large enough to hold six people, her hair spread out on the cushion tucked beneath her head. She was scrolling through her phone, but she set it aside and smiled at him as he handed her the cinnamon popcorn.

She planted the bowl on her stomach and shoved a handful of popcorn into her mouth. “Oh, yum. So good,” she groaned. “I don’t know what they put in this stuff, but I’m taking a suitcase of it back home with us.”

Thom smiled and took his place beside her. “Happy?” he couldn’t help but ask. Perhaps he was seeking reassurance of his ability to be a good husband to her. Perhaps he was seeking to solidify a foundation that would hold against external pressures once they returned home.

He’d discovered for himself just how powerful and ruthless some of the Marshalls could be. He needed to shore up his defenses. If ensuring Elana was happy was one way, then that was what he would do.

She rolled her eyes and took another mouthful of popcorn. “Ecstatic. Thank you, husband,” she mumbled with a grin.

His smile widened as he picked up the remote and hit Play. “You’re very welcome, wife.”

Yes, the path of his life was truly set. And hopefully, now that he was married, the Fixer would leave him the hell alone.

* * *

“If you’re ready, madam, just close your eyes. Breathe in through your nose. Out through your mouth. That’s it. Now, slowly repeat the process until you feel each inhale and exhale flow right through your body. Out through your fingertips and the soles of your feet, making you as light, light, light as the very air itself...”

Elana closed her eyes, blocking out the diminutive dark-haired, dark-eyed Balinese woman who’d arrived at the villa for a private meditation session ten minutes ago.

She’d never done anything like this before. For one thing, she didn’t think she needed it. For another, her attention span when it came to sitting still for long periods was abysmal. But having done everything on their tailored relaxation list at least twice since their arrival, and with Thom working out in their private gym, she’d had a couple of hours to burn and had agreed when the butler had recommended the meditation session.

Now she made an effort to concentrate, letting the late-afternoon sun warm her back and the aromatic candles burning nearby soothe her as she sat cross-legged on the woven mat in the glass-walled spa room at the opposite end of the villa from the pool.

On the other side of the glass, across the vibrant garden, a stone water feature tumbled water into a plunge pool. The muted sound filtered into the room, adding nature’s music to the calm atmosphere.

“Hold out your hands, please?” the woman garbed in colorful Balinese tie-dye instructed softly.

Elana extended her palms. A moment later, she felt the cool touch of metal. One was rough, the other smooth.

“The copper and zinc coins will help renew your energy, center your chakra. Keep breathing,” she murmured, her lyrical accent lulling Elana into a deeper sense of peace than she would’ve imagined she was capable of.

She closed her fingers over the metals, rested her upturned hands on her thighs and breathed out. Something soft and warm and steady settled inside her. Like a hug from her mother when she was a child, it soothed her.

“Clear your mind of all your troubles. Invite love. Invite peace. Invite warmth to your center. Breathe them in, exhale your troubles. Be at one with yourself.”

The urge to fidget melted away as the gentle instructions feathered over her. Her pulse dulled to soothing thuds, the churning in her brain that had felt like a part of her life for so long slowing right down to a steady stream of pleasant thoughts.

Elana had never felt this calm. This at peace. She was more than a little in awe of what the session was doing to her body and mind.

Rachel had raved about the effects of Pilates and yoga, but Elana had always preferred a harder workout. There was something about sweating out your stress by punching a bag or pounding a treadmill that always did it for her. But perhaps she’d been too quick to rule out meditation. She would definitely look into finding a private tutor when she got back home to Santa Barbara.

She lost track of time, submitting blissfully to an inner peace she’d never known before.

A burst of orange behind her eyelids told her another spectacular Balinese sunset was exploding across the horizon when the woman spoke again.

“Open your eyes and be at peace, madam.”

Elana sighed, then slowly opened her eyes, almost unwilling to let go of the magic she’d found. “Thank you. That was amazing,” she murmured.

The woman inclined her head deferentially and took the metal coins from her. “There is an inner warmth and peace that comes with having a beautiful new soul to care for.”

Elana smiled. “Oh, you mean Thom? My new husband? I wouldn’t call him a new soul, but I guess...” Her words trailed off as the woman shook her head.

“No, madam, I don’t mean your husband.”

The woman’s gaze dropped to where Elana had subconsciously placed her hand on her belly.

The sensation that lanced through her in that moment was almost cosmic, if you believed in that sort of crap. Which she sure as hell didn’t. Nevertheless, this time she couldn’t stop the knowledge she’d been subconsciously holding at bay from resurfacing, hammering home a truth she could no longer escape.

And when the woman smiled indulgently and opened her mouth, she knew. She knew what was coming. “It’s happening, madam. I think you know that you carry a new life in your womb.”

* * *

Thom was beginning to think he should’ve joined his wife in her meditation ritual. Because contrary to what he’d hoped for when he’d decided to wake up his endorphins, the last thing he felt was relaxed. He’d hoped the strenuous workout session would help clear his mind. Instead, with each passing second that the clock counted down to the end of his honeymoon, his thoughts and gut churned.

Was it only a couple of days ago that he’d foolishly reassured himself his life was on solid ground? That he had what it took to deny his true self and be a good husband to Elana? Tomorrow they were leaving Bali to head back to Santa Barbara.

Back to the reality of the presence of the Fixer in his life, possibly watching his every move. The man with a definite upper hand when it came to how badly he could ruin Thom and his family.

Back to thoughts of Lane Devereux, Mariella’s hairdresser, and the man Thom had sworn he’d obliterated from his mind.

Why the hell was he thinking about that now? He knew why, he mused darkly.

Like each and every encounter when he was forced to acknowledge his true self, the moment had been real. It had reminded him of the possibilities out there if he were brave enough to step out of the closet.

He was also thinking about it now because he’d seen the shrewd recognition in Lane’s eyes during that moment they’d shared on the edge of the cliff. His mother-in-law’s stylist was so in touch with his sexuality, he could spot a fraud from twenty paces. It’d taken a single look for him to know exactly what Thom was hiding.

Thom also knew men like Lane eventually came to detest people like him. Would he out Thom? Probably not now that Thom was married to a Marshall. The stylist wouldn’t risk alienation from one of California’s most powerful families by running his mouth.

Except none of that brought Thom any reassurance. Even if he could deal with Lane, Gabe the Fixer was another matter entirely.

Thom tossed back the last of his pre-dinner cognac and swallowed the smooth taste, wishing the booze would dull the edges of his rioting senses. Because short of alcohol, the only thing that would soothe him was—

Shit. No.

He clenched his fists on his thighs and tried to steer his mind away from the secret stash of gay porn on his laptop. He hadn’t watched any in a while, certainly not since the wedding.

For a while he’d toyed with getting rid of the folder entirely. Maybe it was time to put all that behind him?

The sound of approaching footsteps put a mocking end to that train of thought less than a minute later. Thom cursed under his breath as he turned toward the sound, then cursed some more at the sight of the pool cleaner.

The young guy was built like a dark Adonis, the almost shy greeting he sent Thom’s way as he skirted the pool firing up thoughts he had no business thinking if he wanted to keep his cock from broadcasting his impure musings.

Fuck.

He raised one leg to hide the man’s effect on him as torrid images tumbled through his mind. Just fucking great, he mused bitterly, that even thousands of miles away from sunny Santa Barbara pool attendants were still hot enough to warrant second and third looks.

Enough already!

He should go in. Take a shower and take matters into his own hands like he’d toyed with minutes ago. Or better still, find Elana. Make love to his wife like he’d been doing since they got here. Or they could just talk.

When he was around her, thoughts of other men stayed suppressed in the secret vault in his mind where they belonged.

But his body refused to obey his brain. He remained on the lounger, his gaze once again straying to the man’s tight abs and ass. It was almost a relief when the attractive attendant gathered his cleaning equipment, wished Thom a good evening and vacated the terrace.

With one obstacle gone, his mind, still eager to find trouble, slid once again to Gabe. Within twenty-four hours he would be back in the Fixer’s orbit.

Under his mercy.

Hell, no.

Whatever he had to do, there was no way he was going back to being intimidated by the guy. From what he’d overheard on the phone, the Fixer had as much, if not more, to lose than Thom did. If nothing else, his new position as a member of the Marshall family would buy him some leverage. Would Gabe really threaten a member of his family?

He was pondering how best to turn that to his advantage when the sliding doors of the living room jerked open.

He managed to school his features into neutral before turning his head to watch Elana walk slowly toward him. But he needn’t have. Her head was downcast, her face severely pinched as she chewed on her bottom lip. As she drew closer, Thom noticed how pale she looked.

“Hey, are you okay? Did the meditation go that badly?” he half joked.

She shook her head distractedly and carried on walking straight past him. Thom frowned as he watched her stroll to the edge of the pool then stare blindly at the view.

If he had to guess, he would’ve said his wife had just had unwelcome news shoved down her throat. Except all she’d done was attend what should’ve been a mind-calming session. He knew she hadn’t received any phone calls from Santa Barbara regarding Harrison, because her phone was where she’d left it on the poolside table.

As if his thought connected to hers, she whirled around, stalked to the table and snatched up the phone. Frantically, her fingers flew over the surface, her frown deepening.

He sat up and planted his feet on the ground. “What’s going on, Elana?”

“What? Nothing. I’m... I’m fine.”

“Really? ’Cause you sure don’t look it. In fact, you look the opposite of post-meditation bliss.”

She flicked a shrug at him, her eyes still glued to the screen. “Yeah... I’m not cut out for it, I guess. Should’ve stuck to swimming.”

She was being cagey about something. But what? Was she sick? Surely she wouldn’t think he would berate her for being ill on their honeymoon? He wasn’t that much of an asshole, was he?

He dismissed the thought a second later. This was Elana Marshall. She didn’t need anyone’s permission to be sick.

Nevertheless...

“Honey, if you’re not feeling well, just tell me. I’m sure we can get one of the private doctors to see you—”

“No!” Her head snapped up from the phone, her eyes going wild for an intense moment. Then she smiled a very false, forced smile. “Seriously, Thom, I’m fine. I didn’t think I’d be the first to crack, but I think I’m just about ready to take a break from paradise.”

A thin band of steel tightened around his chest. “Tired of me already?”

She shook her head, but her gaze slid away from him, back to her damned phone. “No, of course not. I’m just...eager to start our lives together, you know?”

Thom nodded automatically, despite not being able to shake the thought that she was lying. Or at the very least not telling him the whole truth. He could’ve pressed her for more, he thought as she flashed a smile at him and retreated back into the villa.

But then, wasn’t he keeping huge secrets of his own?

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