Читать книгу Secrets Of The A-List Complete Collection, Episodes 1-12 - Cat Schield - Страница 34

Chapter Four

The private party room in the back of El Acantilado had been set up for Mariella and Elana to make their selections for the engagement party. Even though the restaurant was closed until dinner, the elegant establishment bustled with activity. Deliveries were coming in from florists, linen companies, stationery businesses and everything in between. Mariella and Gabe had agreed to allow one of the top team members to handle the arrangements, but in light of Harrison’s accident, Mariella was unable to fully let go of the reins.

Mariella picked up the white coquillage linen sample and rubbed the fine fabric between her fingertips. There were two other choices, but so far this was her favorite. Although Gabe insisted that Mariella focus on Harrison, working on her daughter’s engagement party was the only thing that kept her sane. The mere thought of spending hours sitting at the bedside of her comatose husband chilled her to the bone.

“Mrs. Santiago-Marshall, the champagne flutes and the floral samples have arrived.”

Mariella placed the fabric on the table and turned her attention to Teresa St. Claire, the engagement party planner from MSM Event Planning. She and her team were responsible for all the ordering and vendor deliveries. As much as Mariella was hesitant to admit, Teresa was beyond efficient. She ran her team like a master drill sergeant, albeit in her standard classy black pantsuit and white silk blouse.

“Thank you. Have them brought in. And be sure that the delivery people do not leave until the packages have been approved by me.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She tucked a lock of blond hair behind her ear and spoke into her headset. She referred quickly to her iPad and hurried off, her stilettos clinking rhythmically across the floors.

Mariella took a sip of champagne and checked her watch. Late, as usual. This was for Elana’s engagement party. Even though she’d told Mariella to do whatever she wanted, Elana needed to take some interest in its preparations. But her flighty daughter could barely keep her mind on one thing at a time, and clearly her impending wedding wasn’t one of those things. Who the hell knew where she was, and Mariella didn’t want to give voice to what she was thinking.

Three of Teresa’s assistants brought in boxes on hand trucks, unloaded and set up the samples on the table. Teresa was right behind them to give a quick inspection of the contents and check off the items from her list.

Mariella lifted one of the flutes and held it up to the light. The delicate Baccarat crystal flute was a work of art. She flicked her glossy pale pink nail against the glass and smiled at the tiny ping. She set that one on the table and went to the next box that held the Swarovski flutes. This sample had a faceted clear-crystal base that sparkled like diamonds. Hmm, tough decision.

“What do you think, Teresa?” Mariella was testing her, curious to see if she would offer a decision or defer to her.

Teresa stepped closer. She lifted the Baccarat then the Swarovski. “I prefer the Swarovski,” she said without hesitation. “Feels a bit more substantial in your hand.” She picked up the bottle of champagne and poured into the flute. She held it up. “And it carries the light.”

Mariella smiled. If there was one thing she admired it was backbone, people who weren’t intimidated by the Santiago-Marshall name. Of course it was wonderful to have people scrape and bow, but if you allowed her to walk over you, Mariella would gladly place one of her red-soled heels in your back and not think twice about it. She expected the highest level of professionalism and perfection in all of her staff members, and it extended to anyone that she did business with. She would settle for nothing less than she was willing to give. She suspected they called her perra—bitch—behind her back, but she didn’t care. It fueled her and made her more focused.

“The caterer should be here in about a half hour with the samples for the entrées and main courses.”

“Thank you.”

Teresa offered a tight-lipped smile and walked out.

Teresa reminded Mariella of a younger version of herself. She made a mental note to speak with Gabe about Teresa. Although she knew the names and faces of the employees, Gabe was the one who worked more closely with them on a regular basis and knew of their capabilities. When Mariella had refused to turn over the reins of overseeing Elana’s engagement party, even in light of Harrison’s condition, he’d suggested Teresa in the hopes of alleviating some of Mariella’s burden. It was working. Teresa was good. Maybe there was more that she could handle. Perhaps she’d like to be Elana’s wedding planner, too, from here on out instead of Mariella? Most of the final decisions were already made, but Teresa could take over on the actual day to keep everything running smoothly.

Mariella had returned her attention to the assorted linens when she glanced up and saw Joe coming in her direction. Her heart seemed to stop beating, and a flood of heat rushed through her. Her hand flew to her chest.

Joe rushed toward her when he caught the look of terror in her large eyes.

“Please...don’t tell me...”

“No. No. I’m so sorry.” He clasped her shoulders. “I didn’t mean to alarm you. Everything is fine...well, at least the same.” Mariella sank into his chest. Joe held her lightly against him and rested his chin on her head. “I came by because I figured you could use some moral support with all this planning.” He looked around at the display of boxes and samples.

Mariella stepped back and looked up into his eyes. She stroked his cheek. “Always thinking of the family. What would we do without you?”

He took her hand and kissed it. “I’m always here for you, Mariella.”

She took him by the hand and led him over to one of the chairs, sitting opposite him. “I want you to be honest with me.”

“Always.”

“Do you think we should still go through with the wedding?”

Joe sat down, leaned forward and rested his arms on his strong thighs. “The real question is, do Elana and Thom still want to go through with it?”

Mariella flicked a finely arched brow and sighed heavily. “Harrison has been terribly worried about Elana and that adúltero Jarrod Jones. So am I.” She shook her dark head. “She is...obsessed with this man. A man that belongs to another woman. What kind of woman does that make my daughter!” She jumped up from her seat and began to pace as she spoke. “Elana must settle down.” She pointed her finger toward the floor for emphasis. “Thom is the right man for her. He is like the anchor to her ship.” She shook her head, her lustrous dark hair spilling across her shoulders. “I still have nightmares about the near-miss scandal with Elana and him at the Fortune 500 gala a few months ago. Imagine getting caught in a stairwell with your Herve Leger dress halfway up your spoiled ass! What if it had been someone other than Rafe who walked in on them! Dios mío!” She threw up her hands in frustration.

Joe totally understood Mariella’s concerns. He and Harrison had spoken about his concerns as well. But between Harrison and Mariella, neither of them had been able to stop Elana. If anything, much like her mother, she dug her heels in and only became more secretive. Jarrod was certainly a problem in the overall scheme of things, but pushing unwilling people down the aisle wasn’t the answer, either. He had a problem with that. But it wasn’t his place, and he knew that even though she asked, Mariella didn’t really want to hear an honest opinion other than the one she’d already settled on.

“Have you talked with Elana?” Joe gently asked, slowing down her tirade.

Mariella came back to herself. She heaved a breath and lifted her chin. “Elana doesn’t know what’s good for her. She’s in some fantasy world. This marriage is the best thing. If she does not go through with the wedding, I know that she will go back to that man. He’s like a...a drug that she can’t seem to shake. Harrison would agree with me. It’s what he wanted for Elana. Thom is what she needs.” She walked to the table and took a long sip from her flute of champagne.

Joe’s brows drew together. He knew that when Mariella made up her mind and she had Harrison’s backing there was no turning her around. They wanted their daughter married off to someone respectable and single, as if marriage was the cure for what ailed Elana. He knew all too well the feeling of desperation when what you wanted was constantly out of reach.

“Sometimes, Mariella, you can’t help who you fall for, who you love,” he said, knowing that he’d just stepped into dangerous territory.

Mariella swung toward him. “Love? This is pure lust.”

“Oh, there you are.” Elana burst into the room, a bit breathless. She looked from one to the other.

Mariella’s breath hitched the instant she saw her daughter. She’d been with that man. It was splashed all over her—the puffy lips, the flushed skin. She’d deal with Elana later. This was certainly not the place for a scene.

Elana breezed over and kissed her mother’s cheek and did the same with Joe. She pranced to the long table that was lined with the open boxes and samples. “My, my, my.” She lifted one of the flutes from the box and held it up to the light. “Nice. I like it.” She spun around and turned bright eyes on her mother and Joe.

“Where’s Thom?” Mariella asked, noticing that her daughter only had on one earring.

Elana blinked then frowned in confusion. “I thought he was meeting me here.”

“Elana!” Mariella took Elana by the arm and pulled her off to the side out of earshot of Joe and the staff.

Joe could only catch a few words here and there that fluctuated between English and rapid Spanish. “You will do this...think of your future...su padre...no more of your screwups...stay away...comprende...”

Joe shook his head. He didn’t know whom he felt most sorry for, Mariella or Elana. Both were hotheaded and stubborn. Elana’s problems were heightened by her impulsiveness, and of course this thing she had going on with Jarrod Jones totally pushed Mariella over the edge. Mariella was accustomed to having what she wanted done without question. She was focused, meticulous, above reproach, professional, everything that her daughter was not. Elana went against her mother’s grain on so many levels, and it drove Mariella crazy.

The reality was you can’t control how people feel, what they want, who they love. If he knew nothing else, he knew that firsthand. His two marriages had been failures because he married for all the wrong reasons—hoping that marriage would help him forget. Trying to force Elana to marry Thom was a mistake in his mind, but he could never tell Mariella that—not exactly. What he did want to tell her was that her husband was not the saint she thought he was. Even though he’d been in two loveless marriages, he prided himself on the fact that he’d never cheated. Unfortunately, he couldn’t say the same for Harrison.

It was a miracle that none of the parade of women over the years had made themselves known. He had no idea how Harrison managed to keep them all under wraps. Probably the Fixer had a hand in that as well. But as long as they stayed put and out of sight, Joe would keep his own counsel and let Mariella keep her illusions.

Harrison’s most recent indiscretion—at least to Joe’s knowledge—had been less than six months earlier, when they’d visited Miami on business and decided to blow off some steam with the nightlife in South Beach. Of course, Harrison had rented the most expensive, flashy car he could get his hands on, a red Pagani Zonda that turned every head. As much as Harrison came off as simply charismatic, there was a part of him that bought into his own hype, who’d changed over the years from the man who was led by a moral compass to one who lived to feed his own passions. And his passion was beautiful women.

From the moment they checked into the Fontainebleau in South Beach, Harrison wasted no time in hitting the nightclub Liv. He’d changed his clothes from the Tom Ford business suit and tie to an open-collar black shirt and slacks, a classy casual look that seemed to cut his age in half and at the same time telegraphed success. No one could miss the platinum Vacheron Constantin watch, the expensive haircut or the imported Italian leather loafers. And he drew women to him like moths to a flame.

Joe enjoyed a good time as much as the next guy, but the issue that he had with Harrison was that he was married to an incredible woman and somewhere along the line he’d seemed to have forgotten that, or at the very least he took Mariella for granted. The next morning when Joe opened the door to his suite to get the newspaper, he saw one of the women from the bar leaving Harrison’s room. Harrison stepped partially out of the door to kiss her goodbye and turned to see Joe standing there. Rather than being embarrassed, he’d winked. It had taken all Joe had not to go over there and slam Harrison against the wall. But, of course, he didn’t. He closed his door and they never spoke of it.

At least for now—he wasn’t sure for how much longer—he would continue to keep his thoughts to himself. But much of what he ultimately decided depended on whether Harrison pulled through.

Mariella continued to lecture her daughter while Elana ignored her. Joe felt it a good time to make a brief exit and call the detective on the investigation of the accident. He slipped out of the private dining hall, walked through the main area and out front, away from prying ears.

Joe rounded El Acantilado and went out back to the private parking lot. He got in his car and shut the door. He removed a business card from his jacket pocket, took out his cell and tapped in the numbers. The doctor’s toxicology report had already come back, showing no indication that drugs or alcohol had played any role in Harrison’s accident. The doctors speculated that he’d had some health crisis that they hadn’t pinned down yet. Barring some kind of medical emergency or driver error—highly unlikely—the only other conclusion that Joe could come to was the unthinkable. His stomach knotted. He needed to know how close the police were to turning over that stone.

The phone rang several times, and Joe was sure it would go to voice mail, when it was finally answered on the other end.

“Detective Burns,” he barked into the phone.

“Detective Burns, this is Joe Reynolds.”

“Oh, Mr. Reynolds. I’m on my way to a scene right now.”

“I won’t take too much of your time. I wanted to know if there have been any updates on the Harrison Marshall investigation.” Joe heard some shuffling and voices in the background, then the noise grew distant, as if Burns had gone into another room. He heard a door shut.

Burns cleared his throat. “Listen, this is totally off the record. Understood?”

“Understood. What is it?”

Joe listened with growing dread.