Читать книгу Secrets Of The A-List Box Set, Volume 2 - Cat Schield - Страница 13
ОглавлениеElana was never going to admit to anyone that she had never really cared for Paris.
After all, it was Paris.
But she preferred the warmth and sunshine of California to the cool Parisian evenings. And she preferred her own room and the familiarity of her own things at Casa Cat. The truth was, she’d never been much of a traveler. But this trip was important to her mother, so she would make the best of it.
Besides, she had Rafe for company. Her brother had agreed to accompany her, and she was delighted to spend time with her favorite sibling. He wasn’t as serious and disapproving as Luc, or as brooding and mysterious as Gabe. Rafe understood her. And it went both ways. She knew their father disapproved of him, even though he feigned tolerance. But she’d always loved Rafe for who he was—a kind, compassionate and creative man who had so much to offer the world. They had the same sense of humor, enjoyed the same movies and music, and shared many of the same friends. Like Thom. She knew her brother supported her marriage and would always be her greatest ally in her family. And she loved him for always showing his support—even when he disagreed with her choices. Like Jarrod. But even if he scolded her, he would only ever do it in private. That was how it had always been between them.
And shopping at the best fashion houses on Boulevard Saint-Germain and Champs-Elysees wasn’t exactly a hardship. She’d been pampered and indulged for over two hours, selecting her trousseau with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. Retail therapy always worked when she was in a funk. And Rafe had promised to accompany her to Montmartre later that afternoon so she could explore some of her favorite shops without their mother’s disapproval casting a shadow from across the ocean. Plus, the explicit texts she been getting from Jarrod all morning had lightened her mood. The man certainly knew which buttons to push. Even if it did make her miss him like crazy. And want him. She couldn’t wait to be in his bed again. She craved him so much it hurt having so many miles between them. Surely he understood why she had to marry Thom. It was for the family. To preserve their reputation. To give the appearance of unity and strength. And she had her role to play, as everyone else did.
“You know,” Rafe drawled, glass in hand, ankles crossed as he stretched out on the brocade chaise across from her, “your French is way better than your Spanish. Why is that, I wonder?”
Elana shrugged her slender shoulders and offered him a cheeky grin. “Not as many expectations, I suppose.”
“You mean, because Mariella isn’t breathing down your neck telling you to enunciate your vowels,” he said, mimicking their mother’s husky voice, and they both laughed loudly.
Elana got her laughter under control and quickly met her brother’s gaze. “Why do you and Luc refer to her as Mariella? You know she hates it. And since you’re her favorite child...”
As her words trailed off, Rafe shrugged and then smiled. “She only pretends to hate it.”
“Because you can do no wrong in her eyes?”
He laughed. “Are you serious? I’m like the family’s number-one disappointment.”
“You are not,” she said and shook her head, still smiling. “I am.”
“Nope,” Rafe said and grinned wider. “That’s my claim to fame. I mean, we all know that Luc is Mother’s favorite. She’s always treated him differently than the rest of us. And you’re the baby of the family, so you get a free pass. Although sometimes I think Gabe is her favorite.”
“That’s because he’s her nephew,” Elana explained and smirked. “You know, abandoned, fatherless child, et cetera...pity is a solid motivator.”
“So, now she pities Gabe. What about me...don’t I deserve some pity, too? I really think I’m this family’s number-one black sheep.”
“Oh, please,” Elana said dramatically. “I’m definitely this family’s biggest disappointment. I didn’t go to college. Let’s be honest, I barely made it through high school. I’m window dressing for the business, that’s all. So I won’t have you trying to steal that crown from me.”
Rafe stuck his chin out. “I think I could pull off a tiara as well as you, little sister.”
She laughed loudly. “Of course you could,” she said and reached across the small coffee table to grab the sparkly headpiece that matched the earrings she’d added to her trousseau. “Want to try this on for size?”
“You think I won’t?”
Elana loved that her brother was always up for a dare. “Be my guest.”
Rafe reached across and grabbed the small tiara, propping it on his head with a laugh. “See...perfect.”
“You look so pretty.”
Her brother quickly ditched the headpiece and laughed. “We all know that Luc is the pretty boy in the family. And he’s a doctor. And he has a perfectly beautiful and well-connected girlfriend. Even if Rachel is so cold you could freeze ice cubes on her ass. Yes, Luc’s the whole package.”
“But you’re nicer,” she assured him, chuckling. “Anyway, I always thought Gabe was the handsome one.”
“And Dad’s favorite,” he said and grinned.
“Don’t let Luc hear you say that. Besides, I think Gabe has taken Dad’s accident personally...like he feels he should have protected him, or something.”
Rafe frowned. “Protected him from what?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know...it’s just a feeling. You know they work closely together. He’s Dad’s right-hand man.”
“The son he wished he always had,” Rafe said with a cynical smile.
But Elana wasn’t fooled. She knew her brother craved to be held in the same esteem as their cousin or Luc. “You know that Dad has always found it hard to show how he feels about things.”
“About me, you mean?” Rafe said and raised a dark brow. “It’s okay, Elana... I know he loves me. It’s just that sometimes...sometimes he acts as though he wishes he didn’t, if that makes sense. Anyway, let’s not get maudlin. Let’s talk about happy things. Like your wedding.”
Elana let out a long sigh. “Thom wanted to elope. He called the wedding a circus,” she said and sipped some champagne, looking around at the racks of gowns and the almost vulgar sense of wealth that surrounded them. The place reeked of opulence and entitlement. It really wasn’t her thing. Elana preferred a little more edge to her wardrobe. “I’m beginning to think he’s right.”
“Thom just wants to keep you safe.”
“Do you think?” she asked, thinking it seemed a strange thing for her brother to say. “Safe from what?”
“Overexposure,” he replied and shrugged. “Bad press. Particularly after that scuffle Luc and I got into recently.”
“Scuffle?” she echoed, one brow arched.
Rafe grinned. “Luc likes to think he can still beat me in a fight. Which he usually can,” he said and rubbed his jaw at the memory. “But I’ll never let him know that. Besides, you know the Scotts haven’t hogged the limelight like the Marshalls have for the past few decades. They might be wealthy, but they’re middle-class, suburban folk at their core.”
“Pompous snob,” she chided playfully. “I thought you adored Thom as much as I do.”
Something flashed across her brother’s face. Disappointment? Concern? Anguish? Was her caring, sensitive brother really convinced that she was doing the right thing?
“Of course I like Thom,” he said quietly. “And I’m not a snob. I just want you to be sure.”
“I am sure. I’m doing the right thing,” she said. “You’ve been friends with him for years, too. You know Thom is a good man. He’s just a lousy public speaker.”
Rafe made a sympathetic face. “No doubt he’s going to be reminded of his appalling speech at the engagement party for a while?”
“You know what the press is like,” she said and sighed. “But I’m sure he’s tough enough to take it. Although he did shut down his social media accounts as a precaution.”
“But not you?” Rafe queried and eyed her cell phone on the table. “You still tweeting our every move on this trip?”
She grinned. “Have to keep my followers happy. And it takes the heat off your fight with Luc and any nosy interest in Dad’s condition. Thom isn’t as savvy when it comes to turning bad publicity into good.”
“But you are?”
She chuckled. “I’m a pro. I just told him to keep his head down and be quiet for a couple of weeks. He liked that idea. You know Thom...he’s not one to hog the limelight. He really is too sweet for words. He’s kind and considerate, and he really wants to marry me.”
“Of course he does,” Rafe said. “Who wouldn’t?”
Elana managed a tentative smile. “Exactly,” she said and got to her feet. “And now, I have to get back to shopping. I have some serious lingerie decisions to make. I mean, do I go for demure ingenue, or sexy whore?” She pointed to a rail of gossamer-thin negligees, silk robes and satin corsets. “Which one do you think Thom will like?”
Rafe swallowed hard and adjusted his collar. “I’m sure he’ll like whatever you choose.”
“But which one?” she teased.
“White,” he said and smiled a little. “And demure.”
“Spoilsport. You’re only saying that because no one likes to imagine their little sister getting down and dirty on their wedding night. Right?”
One thing Rafe didn’t want to think about was Elana having sex with Thom.
Because he wished he was the one in Thom’s bed.
He wasn’t proud of his feelings. Thom was engaged to his sister. Thom was his friend.
And he could never tell Elana how he felt. She wouldn’t understand. As close as they were, as much as his baby sister loved him, Rafe knew it was a line that couldn’t be crossed. Not again.
A memory, sharp and painful, banged around in his head. He’d tried to ignore it. Tried to forget. But in that moment he was back in private school. Senior year. He’d been quiet and studious back then, and although he’d had a few friends, he mostly kept to himself. He’d already come out to his family, and although he knew they’d been upset by the news, the subject was never broached. His father wouldn’t discuss it, and Rafe was happy to deal with his dad’s silence over disapproval or rejection. His friends accepted him for who he was, including his best friend, Thom Scott. Thom was originally Elana’s best friend growing up, but she’d often included Rafe in their group. When Elana started hanging out with more popular kids at school, that left Rafe and Thom as the remaining musketeers. They studied together. Hung out together. Did everything together. Despite the fact that Thom dated girls, Rafe suspected his friend had other feelings, too. He’d never said it, never confronted Thom, but he sensed something whenever they were together, and the feeling wouldn’t go away.
And then, one night, when they were in his room cramming for a math exam the following day, Rafe had moved closer, closed his eyes, placed a gentle hand on Thom’s shoulder and then leaned in, kissing him. Softly, just on the corner of his mouth. Just a small, featherlight kiss. Feelings had bombarded him. Thom’s skin, the scent that was so achingly familiar. Thom had pulled back immediately, saying Rafe had gotten it wrong. He wasn’t like that. He wasn’t gay. He liked girls. He’d never been with a boy. And then Thom had bailed from the room as though his feet were on fire. Rafe had been racked with guilt. He needed to explain, to apologize to his best friend. He’d mustered the courage to call, but Thom hadn’t picked up his cell. He even ignored him both before and after the math exam.
Two days later Rafe headed to Thom’s house. Thom’s parents were out, and his friend was alone. At first, he wasn’t sure that Thom would let him in, but he did. And they talked, sharing a few beers that Thom had swiped from his dad’s stash. Rafe kept apologizing, and Thom appeared to understand. But then, something changed in the way Thom was looking at him. Rafe didn’t misinterpret it. He knew what he saw in his friend’s eyes. And fueled by a sudden overwhelming desire and a deep surge of longing for his best friend, he kissed Thom again. And then again. Putting his arms on his shoulders, covering his mouth with his own. And suddenly, Thom wasn’t resisting. He was kissing him back! Then they were upstairs in Thom’s room, alone, rolling around on the narrow bed, mouths, tongues, breath all mingling. It felt so good. So right. Their clothes were quickly shed, and they were naked, skin against skin, sweat and sweat. And finally, they were together, one person, connected in the most intimate way possible, driven by an inexplicable need, a desire that came from a place Rafe hadn’t known existed. Thom accepted him, eager but nervous, and Rafe took his time, teaching, schooling, showing Thom how good it could be. It was hot and erotic and mind-blowing. It was sex and pleasure unlike any he’d known before. And for Rafe, it was so much more. It was as though he’d finally found what he was searching for. That one person. His other half.
When it was over, when they had both sated the driving, almost primal need inside each other, they fell asleep, wrapped in each other’s arms, stretched out on the narrow bed.
Thom was still sleeping when Rafe kissed him goodbye before leaving.
When he’d tried to talk to Thom the next time he saw him, his friend had looked at him blankly, insisting he remembered nothing. It hurt deep into his bones. Maybe it was the beer? Not that they’d been off-their-face drunk. True, Thom wasn’t much of a drinker back then. Or perhaps Thom was simply experimenting and had worked out that he was straight, after all. Maybe he was embarrassed that things had gone so far. Maybe Rafe had imagined the whole thing after a few too many beers. No, he knew what had happened between them. But he couldn’t force Thom to come out. Everyone had to walk their own path. Rafe knew firsthand how difficult it was to live an authentic life when surrounded by judgment and disapproval, even from the people who loved you the most. And Thom’s parents weren’t as young or accepting as his own.
After that, for several years, Thom distanced himself from their friendship, only hanging out when Elana was present or to play the odd game of tennis, and Rafe didn’t push the issue. Nor did he mention their night together ever again. Not to anyone.
And now Thom was about to marry his sister and would be Rafe’s brother-in-law.
Complicated didn’t half cover it.
He’d wanted Thom back then.
And he wanted him still.
But he loved Elana and would never do anything to hurt his baby sister. So he kept his feelings, and the past, well hidden. It was better for everyone. Even if he did know that both Elana and Thom weren’t being entirely true to themselves. And even if it did hurt like hell.
“Why don’t we ditch this place and go and have lunch at the fanciest restaurant we can find that doesn’t have the name Marshall attached to it?”
Elana’s voice jerked him out of his maudlin thoughts. He got to his feet and smiled. “Good plan.”
“I know just the place,” she said with a mischievous grin. “Oscar’s,” she said—one of the best places in that part of the city.
Rafe shook his head and grabbed his jacket. “Not Oscar’s. And don’t ask me why, when you know perfectly well.”
She shrugged innocently. “We don’t even know if he’s still working there.”
He. Paolo. His ex. He’d been with Paolo, a chef at one of their restaurants, for six months, until the other man slept with someone else and was caught in a clinch by a friend and then a picture was plastered all over Twitter and Instagram. The paparazzi had fun for days with that story. But the news was out of the headlines almost as quickly as it was in. And days later, Paolo had taken a job as sous chef in Paris and left the country without saying goodbye or collecting his toothbrush from Rafe’s apartment. That was a year ago, but Rafe had no reason to believe that Paolo had left Paris.
“I’m sure he is,” Rafe said.
Elana’s eyes sparkled. “Well, maybe it’s time you guys talked.”
“Not interested.”
His sister sighed. “You don’t have a forgiving bone in your body.”
“I do,” Rafe said quietly. “I just consider cheating unforgivable.”
Rafe knew the idea of cheating was a sore point with his sister, since she was still seeing that jerk-off Jarrod. Rafe didn’t understand why his sister would risk everything she had with Thom for the sex-obsessed, married Hollywood sleaze. Sure, Jarrod was good-looking and probably oozed excitement to Elana...but he was a schmuck. A douche. A freaking cliché, with his fancy car and movie-star wife.
“Paolo made a mistake. People do, you know. Even people as perfect as you.”
“I’m not perfect,” Rafe assured her. “Far from it.”
She smiled sweetly. “You are to me.”
Guilt licked between his shoulder blades. Sometimes he wished he had the courage to tell Elana everything. About how he’d slept with her now fiancé so many years ago. But he never would. Family was...family. And with their father still in a coma, with Luc acting all alpha and Gabe being his usual brooding and mysterious self, he knew he and Elana had to stick together.
“Thanks. I think you’re pretty special, too.”
She grabbed his arm as they walked out from the salon and hit the pavement. Rafe roped an arm around her waist and hugged her close. The afternoon sun was bright, and there was a faint breeze following them as they began walking down the street. Breeze, accompanied by a couple of nosy photographers. But there was nothing unusual about that. Elana’s incessant tweeting made being inconspicuous impossible. Rafe grabbed her hand and kept walking, keen to duck the prying eyes of the media.
“We’ll be on Instagram within the hour. I can already see the headlines,” she said and gave a brittle laugh. “One half of ‘Thelana’ paints the town red.”
“That’s such a stupid name for you and Thom,” Rafe said and grimaced. “Nowhere near as cool as Kimye.”
Elana laughed loudly. “Because I’m not as cool,” she said. “And Thom can be such a dork sometimes. But at least this is nothing more scandalous than a shopping trip. Unless,” she said and gave a cheeky grin, “we head to Oscar’s so you can hook up for a quickie in the cool room with he who shall not be mentioned.”
“Don’t push your luck,” Rafe warned playfully. “The last thing this family needs right now is another scandal. Besides, we don’t want to have to call in the Fixer.”
“Ha,” she laughed. “I don’t have the number. I’m not even sure he exists.”
“He?” Rafe’s brows shot up instantly. “Maybe it’s a not a he. Maybe it’s a she.” His eyes sparkled. “Maybe it’s you?”
“Me?” Elana laughed again as a photographer snapped a few shots as they walked up the street and headed around the nearest corner. “Hardly. That job sounds way too organized for me. I can’t even balance my checkbook.”
“Maybe it’s Luc,” Rafe said and shrugged.
He didn’t look convinced, but Elana wasn’t about to admit she’d been thinking the same thing. She tried to make her voice as casual as she could. “I suppose it makes sense... Luc’s Daddy’s favorite. I mean, besides me. And Gabe,” she added and grinned. “And he gets to hear all the good gossip when he’s nipping and tucking all those celebrity housewives. He’d know who needs to be bailed out of trouble.”
“As he constantly informs me, he does more than boobs and Botox.”
“I know what a do-gooder our big brother is. There’ll probably be a HBO special on his work with Doctors Without Borders.”
Rafe’s mouth twisted. “You sound jealous. Worried that Luc might steal the limelight from you?”
“Ha, no chance. I’m the bride-to-be at the wedding of the year, remember?”
“I remember. But he might beat you to the altar with Blondie.”
Elana screwed up her face. “I really don’t like her. She’s got cold eyes...like a fish.”
“Or a shark?”
“Yeah,” Elana said and laughed again. “And she’s been circling our brother like he’s a tasty meal.”
“She moved into his apartment...he must like her a little.”
“He’s a boob man,” Elana said crassly. “He likes her assets. I just hope he knows what he’s doing. Imagine having to spoon that icicle every night. She must be good in bed, that’s all I can guess.”
Rafe chuckled. “Say what you really think. Incidentally, if you think Luc is the Fixer, why didn’t you call him out on it when you had a chance?”
“I didn’t say he was,” she said, suddenly more serious. “You did.”
Rafe shook his head. “I don’t know anything anymore.”
“So, speaking of a special someone,” Elana said as they crossed the street and headed for a small café.
“Is that what we were doing?”
“Sure,” she said and chuckled. “I said you were special. You said I was...blah, blah. When are you going to get back in circulation?”
They were seated and had ordered coffee before Rafe replied. “I’m in circulation,” he assured. “Well and truly.”
She made a face. “I don’t believe you. And I can’t believe someone hasn’t snapped you up. I could set you up with someone.”
“No, thanks.”
“How about him?” she asked and discreetly pointed to a good-looking, well-dressed young man who strode past and glanced their way.
“For me?” he inquired. “Or you?”
Elana waved her left hand, and the huge engagement ring sparkled. “Just because I’m getting married doesn’t mean I’ve lost my eyesight.”
He laughed. “I guess not. So...how does Jarrod feel about the wedding?”
She shrugged, looking faintly embarrassed for a second, but quickly composed herself. “He doesn’t care.”
Rafe didn’t believe her. “You sure about that?”
“Positive,” she replied and drank some coffee. “He’s married...so why shouldn’t I be?”
His sister’s logic was illogical. “And Thom? Does he know you clearly have no intention of being faithful?”
Her brows came together. “What makes you think I won’t be?”
“I know you, Elana. Are you hoping that Jarrod will leave his wife? It that why you’re marrying Thom? To force Hollywood’s hand?”
She shook her head. “I don’t believe in fairy tales.”
“He might leave her,” Rafe said quietly. “With the right kind of ultimatum.”
“I don’t want to,” she said, her voice firmer. “I love Thom. I’m going to marry him.”
It sounded like a lie. But he loved Elana too much to admonish her.
“I know.”
“Then why do you sound as though you don’t approve?” she asked.
“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.”
