Secrets Of The A-List Box Set, Volume 2

“Of Thom?” Rafe’s brows shot up. “Didn’t I agree earlier that I’m his number-one fan?”

“Now you’re making fun of me,” she said, eyes suddenly downcast. “I thought that was Luc’s job, not yours.”

“Touchy subject.”

“Not at all,” she defended. “Jarrod and I have one kind of relationship. And with Thom, I have another. Maybe it feels as though we’re friends more than lovers...none of that makes any difference. I’m marrying Thom because it’s the right thing to do. It’s time I settled down and acted like a grown-up. And it’s what Dad wants. I’m doing it for him.”

An odd pain pinched in Rafe’s chest. Of course, Elana was doing it to please their father. That was a no-brainer. And deep down, he agreed with her decision. He and Thom were a daydream. A fantasy, conjured up from some old infatuation.

But it hurt.

Badly.

* * *

Gabe glanced at his watch. He’d been sitting beside Harrison’s bed for half an hour without saying a word. The nurse had said it was good to talk, and that on some level, the other man could hear his words and feel his family around him. But to Gabe, speaking felt foolish. He’d never been one to waste words. But he needed to find a way to relieve the tension that had come to consume him over the past weeks. Sitting with Harrison, even staring into space, helped some.

The last time he’d been here, Mariella had been with him. They’d sat in silence on opposite sides of the bed, watching over the man who meant so much to them both. He’d wanted to tell her everything, to admit who he was and what he knew about Harrison’s accident. But he couldn’t. Not then. And not yet. Not until he found out who was responsible and why they wanted the man he had always considered to be his father dead.

He made a mental note to talk to the detective in charge of the case. Hank Burns was known for hating rich people. He had a good reputation but was a hard-ass. But Gabe figured he’d get around that. He could talk street if he needed to. He’d gain the cop’s trust by whatever means necessary. He made a mental note to find out what he could about Burns. His past, any indiscretions, wife, mistress, that kind of thing. Ammunition sometimes came in handy when trying to negotiate. Gabe wanted to know what the police knew, because he had the resources to do something about it.

He’d tried keeping watch over Harrison from afar through the hack he’d had installed in the clinic’s security cams, but so far, there had been glitches in the system. His hacker was working on it, but so far they’d had more failure than success. Another aspect of the situation to stress over.

“Everything is okay, I promise,” he suddenly found himself saying to Harrison, quickly glancing toward the closed door to ensure no one entered the room and saw him chatting to a man in a coma. “And under control.”

He took a deep breath, rounded out his shoulders and began to talk about what he’d been doing over the past few weeks, what he’d fixed. He talked about the family, the engagement party, the upcoming wedding and the business. He didn’t say anything about the fallout from the engagement party—the way the tabloids had made it seem as though the engagement was on the rocks. Thom’s botched speech had done the rounds on social media, but other than making the other man look like a first-rate idiot, it seemed no permanent harm had been done.

“And things with Thom are fine now.”

Or so he hoped. He wasn’t sure that Harrison would approve of his methods on that score. Harrison had always insisted that family came above anything else—even the business. Gabe wasn’t sure the older man would agree with his decision to pretty much blackmail Thom into staying quiet about learning he was the Fixer. But what else could he have done? No one could know the truth. Besides, Gabe was glad he was the one who had the photographs of Thom and the hairdresser. The last thing the family needed was another sex scandal. He’d already shifted that indiscreet chef Rafe had been seeing last year off to Paris when photographs of him performing fellatio on some fading rock star had started circulating on the internet. It had taken Gabe precisely forty-eight hours to get the chef on a plane to France with a wad of cash in his pocket and the knowledge he wouldn’t be back on California soil for years. It had been an easy fix and one that was necessary.

Gabe didn’t understand why the Marshall siblings couldn’t choose discretion over some kind of foolish and romantic love that inevitably landed them in the tabloids. He had doused the flames on Elana’s affair with that married movie producer a couple of times, but his cousin kept finding ways to rekindle it. Only Luc seemed to have his head fastened on right when it came to women. Until he’d starting screwing that spoiled, conniving congressman’s daughter. Gabe suspected there would be another Marshall wedding soon, if Rachel got her way. If so, he knew he’d have to keep a watchful eye over the whole situation.

The monitor beeped, and the room suddenly seemed unusually quiet. Gabe took a deep breath. And then another. It had been a long week. Work. Family. Everything was closing in. Of course, he could handle it. He always handled it. But he still felt oddly tired of it all. Maybe it was time he took a vacation.

For the third time in as many days, he wished he had someone to talk to, someone who would understand. Someone who wouldn’t judge who he was and what he did. Someone who would be the balm he needed to soothe his soul. But there was no one.

Gabe looked at Harrison. The man was like a father to him. The truth was, Gabe had always considered Mariella and Harrison to be his real parents. It was Mariella who showed him love and affection. And it was Harrison who had seen promise in him, Harrison who made him believe that he could rise above the situation of his birth and really be something in life. Harrison never treated him as less because he was the child of a drug-addicted mother and nameless father. Gabe remembered when he’d first come to live permanently with them at Casa Cat. He’d been a scared ten-year-old boy, used to being left alone in front of the television, waiting for his careless mother to come home. A mother who was in and out of rehab. A mother who cared little for her child and more about her next high.

Admittedly, she appeared to have cleaned herself up in recent years. Or so he hoped. But Gabe didn’t have the forgiveness in his heart to forget what she had put him through as a young boy. He knew Ana and Mariella had never really gotten along, knew that the younger Santiago had always been jealous of her older sister. Over the years, when she’d been clean and beating her addiction, she’d tried to develop a relationship with him. But his natural cynicism always won out. He didn’t trust Ana. He didn’t believe her motives were pure and truly about their relationship. With Ana, there was always an angle, a payoff. Not money, although he had given her that occasionally, now that she was living off the dregs of her inheritance, but time...attention. Two things that were in short supply in his life.

Growing up, he’d followed Mariella’s lead, keeping Ana at a distance. It was easy when she was using and in and out of rehab facilities. But a sober, cocaine-free Ana was harder to keep at arm’s length. So he saw her very occasionally and put up with her demands on his time and her insistence that he call her Mom when they were together. He wasn’t sure why she wanted that, or why he agreed. Deep down he hated it, and her. Maybe it was some leftover guilt from his childhood. But the truth was, he’d stopped thinking of Ana as his mother a long time ago.

Gabe sighed heavily and pressed his hands to his knees. Maybe his work as the Fixer had solidified his mistrust of everything and everyone. He knew he sometimes came across as moody and closed off. But he was proud of what he had achieved and what he did. As the Fixer, he solved problems. He made things right. Sure, sometimes he skirted the edge of the law, but in the end, he always got results. Thank God the insufferable Luc wasn’t part of MSM Event Planning and he only had to deal with Elana and Rafe on a day-to-day basis. Too many Marshalls in one place would be impossible to handle all the time. Because that’s what Gabe felt was his number-one job—handling the Marshalls, keeping the siblings out of trouble, ensuring he gave Mariella his loyalty and watching Harrison’s back.

“I didn’t do such a great job this time, did I?” he said and ran a weary hand over his face as he stared at the man lying in the bed.

He wished he could turn back the clock. Have a do-over. But he couldn’t. He had to move forward and do the job he was expected to do. The job he was paid to do. Paid so well he felt guilty for taking money when he’d failed to protect Harrison. He had a luxurious condo in the city and a fancy car. But his rooms at the Marshall estate always felt more like home. When he was a kid, he’d been in awe of the luxury of Casa Cat. Tennis court, two swimming pools, stables...to a ten-year-old boy, it was like a palace. In the beginning, he’d kept to himself, wandering the hallways while the boys played outside with their top-of-the-range model airplanes and, later, watching Rafe and Luc ride their ponies from a spot near the stables. It took a year for Gabe to try flying the remote-control aircraft and another six months before he got into the saddle. What he discovered was that he was better at sports than either of the Marshall boys. He passed a football better, flew a plane better and rode a horse as though he’d been born in a saddle. Of course, Luc, older and tougher than Rafe, had hated it, and their rivalry developed almost immediately. School, sports, girls...there was always something to compete for. Years later, he suspected there always would be.

After all of these years, he could read his tía well. He knew she thought Luc might be the Fixer. Strange, he thought, that she hadn’t considered that it was him. Over the past few days, he’d come close to telling her several times. But he’d stopped. He wasn’t sure why he wanted her to know. Recognition, perhaps? To be witnessed and revered for saving the day and being the glue that kept the family together? The more he thought about it, the more pompous and stupid he felt. What did recognition matter when Harrison was lying in a hospital bed? Not one damned iota.

Ensuring that everything that was important to Harrison was still there when he woke up, that’s all that mattered.

Gabe patted the other man’s hand and sucked in a deep breath.

“I swear I’ll find out who did this to you. And then,” he said, his voice dropping an octave as rage and determination coursed through his blood, “I’ll make them pay. I’ll make them wish they’d never been born. I’ll fucking nail the bastard who did this, I promise.”

Chapter Three

Mariella slumped back into the patio chair, crossed her ankles and let out a long breath. She looked at the computer screen in front of her. The figures and columns blurred the more she stared at them. It was a warm day, and the midmorning sun felt good on her shoulders. The pool looking inviting, and she glanced down at her swimsuit and chiffon wrap. Maybe she’d make time for a dip later. It was the first time she’d sat down in hours. Or was it days? With each moment merging into the next, at times it was impossible to tell. The fatigue and weariness coursing through her body made her bones ache. But she couldn’t sleep. There was too much going on. Too much to do. She had a business to run and a wedding to plan and family to keep together.

Thank goodness she had Gabe to rely on. He really was a godsend. He picked up the slack when she veered off course. He kept her informed about the accident investigation that the police were still treating as suspicious, and she knew he spent as much time at Harrison’s bedside as he could. Certainly more than their biological children did. Not that she blamed them...watching their father look so helpless would be hard.

But she needed to stay focused; she needed to take her mind off the chaos of the past weeks. Most of the morning she’d spent on the telephone, speaking with one medical specialist after another, looking for something or someone to give her hope. Even without Dr. Malone constantly reminding her of the fact, Mariella knew that the longer Harrison lay unconscious, the more the chances of him recovering withered. And she didn’t want to lose him. She didn’t want to live her life without her husband. True, Harrison could be cold and unfeeling at times. And yes, he often spent more time worrying about his business than their relationship. It had been evident from the beginning that he took her loyalty and devotion for granted. But she loved him and knew he loved her, and she wanted him by her side, working their business, raising their children as they’d always done. One day, God willing, they’d be grandparents, and she wanted to have her husband at her side to share those moments.

Of course, first she had to get Elana to the altar!

She knew Elana had doubts, but she didn’t understand it. Thom was a good man. Maybe a little weak, but not in a womanizing, bad businessman kind of way. He was smart and successful and came from a good family...exactly the kind of family that would make a solid merger with the Marshalls. A real estate family. It was good business and what Harrison wanted. So Mariella would make sure Elana did her duty and married Thom. Still, she couldn’t help remembering the way Thom had behaved at the engagement party...not like a man eager to marry the woman he loved. But she had Gabe’s assurance that the media fallout from the party had waned, and now the gossip-hungry public seemed more interested in Elana’s Paris trip. Which was good news.

Sure, Mariella knew it wasn’t exactly a love match. Thom and Elana had been friends longer than they had been lovers. But she believed that friendship was a solid foundation for a successful marriage. Lust and passion faded. Common beliefs and respect mattered more than what occurred between the sheets. Once she was married, Mariella was convinced, Elana would forget all about her silly infatuation with the movie producer. Of course, Mariella suspected her daughter still hadn’t ended things with Jarrod Jones despite being told time and again to do so. But she’d make sure she did. She made it her business to keep tabs on her children. Like Luc and that bratty socialite who’d maneuvered her way into his bed. Her eldest son sometimes showed poor judgment when it came to women. And she suspected that when it came to Rachel, Luc was at the mercy of his body parts below the belt. Certainly, Rachel checked a lot of boxes for a suitable daughter-in-law...but Mariella simply couldn’t take to the girl. She was a little too beautiful, a little too calculating, a little too eager to marry herself a rich, good-looking doctor. But she was also from a high-profile political family. And that had its advantages.

Mariella didn’t have time to worry about that now...she had Elana’s wedding to organize. Yes, she was determined that her daughter would settle down with Thom, raise a family and show the world that she was Marshall with all the Marshall pride and dignity.

Mariella pushed the laptop away and rolled out her shoulders. A massage would be nice, she thought. Something to ease the tension coursing through her system. She grabbed her phone and sent a brief text to her masseuse, asking for the earliest appointment. The cell pinged moments later with a time that afternoon, and she relaxed just a little. It was exactly what she needed and gave her time to sort through emails and her schedule for the next few days. And to work out how to ensure she got Elana to commit to Thom.

She hadn’t heard from Elana or Rafe since they’d landed in Paris, but at least she knew where Elana was and knew that Rafe wouldn’t allow his sister to get into any kind of trouble. She’d seen the tabloids that morning, showing photographs of her two youngest children at a café, laughing and clearly enjoying one another’s company. And she’d kept tabs on Elana’s social media accounts. Everything seemed fine. Plus, Mariella could always depend on her youngest son to keep Elana safe. He was the child of her heart. More like her than either Luc or Elana. Softer. Kinder. A gentle soul. Harrison didn’t understand him. Or approve of his lifestyle. But Mariella knew that Rafe was the most grounded of her children, the one she could rely on, the one who would always do the right thing. He was brilliant and creative, and she was immensely proud of the man he had become.

Maybe in some ways she did favor him above the others, but she couldn’t help it. Rafe wasn’t prone to tantrums like Elana or to arrogant outbursts like Luc. He never asked for anything. He earned his own way and lived his life honestly. Harrison thought him weak, but Mariella knew the truth was the complete opposite. It had taken strength and courage to come out to them when he was younger. He could have hidden his sexuality and not been true to himself. But her beautiful son had wanted more than that. He’d plowed through the gossip and lurid tabloid assassinations and, worse, his father’s disapproval, to live an authentic life. And she was immensely proud of him and all he had achieved. She hoped that one day Rafe would find someone to share his life with...someone solid and trustworthy and not like that despicable chef who’d broken his heart. Ironically, that’s when she’d realized that Harrison would still protect their son, despite his disapproval of Rafe’s life choices. The chef had been spirited away to Paris, away from the tabloids and her son, and Mariella suspected Harrison had played a part in that.

Obviously, the Fixer was involved, too. It made perfect sense. And made her lingering suspicions that Luc was somehow a part of it all curdle around in her subconscious. Luc had the means, the money and the contacts to be part of such a scheme. Luc would do whatever was necessary to garner his father’s approval. And he would often scurry into Harrison’s office to talk to his dad alone. Secret meetings and secret discussions. Luc had the backbone needed to be part of such a thing. He was his father’s son, after all.

His father’s son...

Memories, as fresh and clear as though they were yesterday, filled her heart. Like a movie camera in reverse, she was taken back in time, to another place, another life, to a love that held the promise of hope and youthful dreams. But in an instant, the memory was gone. Mariella blinked the heat from her eyes. She’d stopped crying decades ago. Tears were for fools. The past few weeks, she’d forgotten that a few times and let weakness slip out.

“I need to concentrate on work,” she said out loud and sighed heavily.

But with the business growing weekly, Harrison’s condition and the upcoming wedding, a vacation wasn’t in the cards in the near future. And the telephone hadn’t stopped ringing for over a week. There were emails to respond to, appointments to make and plans to put into action. Since the engagement party, MSM Event Planning, the catering arm of Marshall International, had gained several new and influential clients. Clients that were too important to put off or reschedule. Instead, Mariella was determined that business would go ahead as usual. The restaurants would function as smoothly and profitably as always, and the catering area would continue to grow and develop. Just as Harrison had planned. And it would all be there for him when he woke up.

Having strength was hard. And exhausting. That’s why she felt as though she could sleep for a week. Keeping up appearances took a heavy toll. And when she was home alone, she didn’t have to pretend. She didn’t have to kid herself that everything would be okay. If Harrison didn’t wake up, nothing would ever be okay again. She would lose her husband. Half of herself. And she wasn’t sure how she would cope with that. Grief, sharp and intense, worked its way through her blood and across her skin and then pinched sharply behind her ribs. Maybe losing someone to death was easier. This...this middle road...asleep but awake...it was the worst kind of torture.

And she knew Harrison would hate being at the mercy of machines and doctors and round-the-clock care. He was a proud, strong man. Her man. Her husband. And she wanted him back.

Mariella was just about to begin answering emails when Vanessa appeared through the patio doors, carrying a tray of drinks. Mariella stretched out her back and looked toward the other woman as she approached.

“I thought you might need this,” the younger woman said and placed the tray on the table.

Mariella eyed the pitcher of ice water and the frosted tumbler. Mint sprigs and fresh blueberries bobbed around in the water, which normally would have quenched her thirst. But today...today she needed something else. Something stronger.

“Gin and tonic is what I need,” Mariella said and waved a dismissive hand. “Go easy on the tonic.”

She caught Vanessa’s odd, almost disapproving look and guessed that the housekeeper was thinking about how it was barely past ten o’clock in the morning. It irked her and then made her angry. Well, to hell with disapproval from the help. She wanted a drink. End of story.

“Oh,” Vanessa said and stepped back. “Okay.”

“Leave that,” Mariella snapped when the housekeeper moved to collect the tray. “Just get me a drink,” she said and then realized how abrupt she sounded. “Please. Change the gin and tonic to sangria instead,” she said and managed a smile. “It’s a little more civilized for this hour of the day.”

“Certainly, Mrs. Santiago-Marshall,” Vanessa said, nodding as she turned on her heels and walked toward the house.

Mariella watched as the younger woman left the patio, and her annoyance quickly subsided when she saw Joe Reynolds pass Vanessa in the doorway. She hadn’t been expecting him, but it was a lovely surprise. And exactly what she needed. He was now talking to Vanessa, and they both nodded. Then Mariella saw Vanessa smile, and she wondered for a moment if Joe was flirting with her housekeeper. But, no, Joe wasn’t that kind of man. He would never fool around with someone young enough to be his daughter. As he walked toward her, smiling that lovely smile of his, she put those thoughts out of her head. Joe was one of the good guys. Harrison’s friend. My friend. Even if, sometimes, she secretly thought he watched her with a kind of seductive, masculine interest. It was foolish. Stupid. Joe didn’t look at her like that. And she didn’t want him to.

“Hey there,” Joe said and came around the table, pulling out a chair and sitting down.

Mariella looked him over. His craggy but still handsome face always made her smile. Joe was one of those men with a kind of natural, easygoing manner that seemed to ooze strength and integrity. People trusted Joe. Mariella knew she could count on him. They’d been friends a long time, and he was always there with a word of wisdom or a shoulder to cry on.

And he had nice shoulders, she noticed, not for the first time. Broad and strong. He looked fit and masculine and had a kind of outdoorsy appearance. As though he would be at ease in the boardroom as well as reeling in a marlin off the edge of a fishing boat or scaling a cliff face without a rope.

“Hi,” she said and smiled a little. “I didn’t expect to see you today.”

He shrugged. “I thought I’d drop by. Is that okay?”

She nodded. “Of course. I’m always happy to see you.”

“You don’t look happy,” he said boldly. “You have that funny crease between your eyebrows...you know, the one you get when you’ve been overthinking things.”

Mariella automatically rubbed a finger between her brows. “What crease?”

He chuckled. “Tough day, huh?”

She waved a dismissive hand. “Not especially.”

“Liar.”

Mariella inhaled deeply. “I’m fine. I’m coping.”

“I don’t think so.”

She closed the laptop and glared at him. “Did you come here today to make me feel bad?”

“Not at all,” Joe said. “Quite the opposite. I’m just concerned about you.”

“Dios mío, I’m not some delicate flower.”

Joe reached across and touched her hand, covering her fingers with his own. Mariella felt the connection deep down and quickly met his gaze. “I know you’re not. I know you’re strong and resilient.”