Читать книгу Secrets Of The A-List Box Set, Volume 2 - Cat Schield - Страница 14
ОглавлениеMariella 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.”
Emotion clawed at her throat. Suddenly she didn’t feel strong. Or resilient. She felt like crying her eyes out. She felt like she was at the breaking point. She also felt like falling into Joe’s arms. She felt like forgetting all her troubles...even for a moment. And it shocked her.
“It’s been a hard few weeks. With the accident and then my sons fighting outside the hospital and of course the engagement party. Thom’s aborted speech got tongues wagging. The gossip bloggers have been all over it.”
He nodded. “I know, but it seems to have settled down now. How’s Elana?”
“Still in Paris with Rafe.” She shrugged, looking to where their hands were pressed together. “Sometimes I’m not convinced that the wedding will actually happen.”
“It will,” he assured her. “Thom and Elana are good for each other. He balances her out. I think it will work for them both.”
“I hope so,” Mariella said. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep up this facade of having everything under control. To tell you the truth, I feel like such a fraud.”
“You know,” Joe said tenderly, rubbing his thumb along her forefinger, “you never need to hide your feelings from me, Mariella. Not ever.”
Emotion filled her blood. His words did something to her, deep inside. They soothed her. Confused her. Alarmed her. She couldn’t pinpoint her feelings. Or understand them. This was Joe. Her friend. Maybe her best friend. The one constant in her life for so many years. When other friends came and went, Joe was always there. Harrison’s business partner, for sure. But more than that. A confidant.
“I know I don’t.”
“I miss him, too.”
The heat in her throat intensified. She wasn’t prepared for this today. She had deliberately immersed herself in work to avoid thinking about how she truly felt about what was really happening in her world. No one and nothing had broken through her walls. Not her children, not the nosy journalists harassing her at every opportunity or the people she’d always considered her friends and who were now strangely absent from her life. Oh, they called, but Mariella suspected their motives weren’t entirely pure. A snippet of gossip was worth a lot in the tabloids. And friends, she discovered, could quickly disappear when there was a dollar to be made.
Except for Joe Reynolds.
He was a rock. Loyal and principled. And incorruptible when it came to being swayed by money or power.
“I know you miss him,” she said quietly.
He nodded. “I’m here for you. I’ve always been here for you. I always will be.”
“I know that, too.” She sighed heavily, taking comfort from the way his fingers continued to move over hers. “I keep thinking that this is a terrible nightmare that I need to wake up from.”
He caressed her wrist gently. “It is a nightmare. But not one that you have to endure alone.”
“I don’t feel alone right now,” she admitted.
“Good,” he said. “I’m glad.”
“I just need to stay busy,” she told him and pointed to the computer. “The business still needs to run.”
“You know I’ll hold up my end of things, Mariella,” he assured her. “Always. For Harrison...and for you.”
She nodded. “I know you will. And I appreciate the support. It would be all too easy to give up.”
“I know what you mean,” he admitted. “Tell me, are you sleeping?”
She shook her head. “Not much. Too many dreams.”
“Same.” He ran his free hand through his thick hair. “Sometimes I wish I could sleep through this whole thing.”
“Me too.” She managed a small, ironic smile. “But since my husband isn’t awake, I don’t allow myself to think that for too long.”
Joe nodded, still stroking her skin. “So the doctors haven’t offered any more news?”
She shook her head. “I’ve been dealing with specialists for days. Each one tells me something different from the last. Try this. Do that. Take him there. Leave him where he is.” She sucked in a shaky breath. “Honestly, I don’t know what to do.”
“I wish I could bring him back for you,” he said raggedly.
Mariella blinked the heat from her eyes. “Me too.”
“But I know I can’t,” he said and circled her wrist with his long fingers, stroking, making goose bumps across her skin. “I feel so freaking helpless. And I’m sorry the doctors haven’t been able to offer any solutions...or...”
“Hope?” she finished for him and nodded a little. “Hope is all I have.”
“Not all,” he said gently. “You have me.”
Mariella’s throat tightened. “Thank you.”
“If only I could do something to help.”
“You’re helping now,” she said and smiled. “More than you know. And you shouldn’t blame yourself, Joe.”
“I can’t help it,” he said. “I should have sensed that something wasn’t right. If Harrison has enemies, if someone forced him off the road and caused the accident, then as his friend and partner, I should have seen this coming. I should have known he was in trouble.”
“You don’t have a crystal ball. None of us do.” She sighed. “And honestly, if anyone is at fault, it’s me.”
“You?”
She shrugged. “I’m Harrison’s wife. The mother of his children. Closer to him than anyone else. And I didn’t sense anything different about him. If he was in trouble, he wasn’t talking about it.”
He didn’t look convinced. “I should have known. Maybe if I hadn’t been so wrapped up in other things I would have been prepared. I could have fixed this and—”
Mariella pulled her hand away instantly. I could have fixed this. Her suspicions surged, and she got to her feet, pulling her wrap around her waist. Alarm bells pealed. Could it be true? Was it as obvious as this? Was Joe the Fixer?
She glared at him, and he looked bewildered. “What?” he asked and stood up slowly.
“Exactly. What?”
Joe took a step around the table, and she immediately backed up. “Mariella?”
“Are you the Fixer?”
He shook his head and then laughed a little. “Of course not.”
“But you said...”
“I meant I should have seen this coming, that’s all,” he assured her. “I’m not the Fixer.”
“Then who is?” she demanded. “And why can’t you find out? We have the paper trail, the bank accounts, the proof of money changing hands. The evidence is there. All we need is a name, and once we get that name, I’m certain it will lead us to whoever is responsible for my husband’s accident.”
“You’re convinced there is a link?” he asked quietly.
She nodded. “Absolutely. And I need to know. A part of me is so angry with Harrison for being a part of all this and putting us at risk. I feel as though the Fixer is somehow involved in the accident. I’m not sure how, but I feel it.”
“Maybe Harrison’s involvement is more about wanting to protect the family rather than hurt it?”
“Always his greatest advocate,” she said, her tone brittle. “Even when he’s not here. The truth is, I have no idea what my husband’s role is in all this, but I will find out the truth.”
“And I’ll help you if I can.”
Mariella wasn’t quite sure she believed him. There was a sudden uneasiness in Joe’s demeanor. She noticed that he didn’t look right—he looked out of sorts, as though he had some great burden pressing down on his shoulders. He’d assured her that he wasn’t the Fixer. If not that, then what was shaking him up so much?
“What’s wrong, Joe?” she demanded. “Why do you look so...so...odd?”
He swallowed hard, and Mariella watched, mesmerized as his strong throat moved. His eyes were burning into hers, his expression suddenly unreadable. Something was going on. Something big.
“Joe,” she said again. “What is it? What are you thinking?” It occurred to her that he might know more than he was letting on. “Do you know who tried to kill my husband?”
He shook his head and stepped closer. “No.”
“Then what is it?”
His attention was unwavering. Had a man ever looked at her with such scorching intensity before? He was close, barely a foot away from her. The air between them was burning up.
“Don’t you know, Mariella?”
She didn’t know what to think, what to feel. What to say.
Mariella took another tiny stride backward and found herself backed up against a pillar. Her wrap flapped open, and she watched as Joe’s gaze flittered over her, suddenly lingering on her breasts as her chest rose up and down. She noticed his cheeks were slashed with color and his hands were balled into fists. And he was breathing hard. Harder than she’d ever noticed before. And he looked as though simply staring at her caused him a kind of gut-wrenching agony. He’d seen her in a swimsuit countless times. But this was different. This felt different. Her skin prickled instinctively, and she shuddered, not from fear, but something else.
Awareness.
Attraction.
Desire.
Realization coursed through her blood, heated her skin and forced her to admit something that had been simmering beneath the surface for a long time.
She was attracted to Joe.
And it was mutual.
Without thinking, she reached up and laid her hand on his arm. He was burning, on fire. Even through the fabric of his shirt, she could feel the heat generated from his skin. Mariella met his gaze instantly. And saw longing.
He groaned, as though the sound was pulled from somewhere deep within his chest, and Mariella was lost. And then, suddenly, she was against him, breast to chest, hip to hip. His arms came around her, and within seconds he found her mouth. He kissed her, hard, as though he was trying to exorcise her from his thoughts...his very soul. And Mariella kissed him back. She’d forgotten this kind of kissing. It had been so long since any man had captured her lips in such an urgent, possessive way. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, and she accepted it greedily. Mariella clutched his shoulders in a frantic effort to get closer to him. He touched her breast, rubbing his thumb across her nipple, and the sensitive bud tightened instantly, sending a quick and hot message to her brain and then swiftly to the place between her thighs. His tongue felt so good against her own, moving around her mouth with a kind of erotic expertise that quickly drugged her senseless. All coherent thoughts were forgotten. Nothing mattered. Just Joe. Just his tongue in her mouth and his hand on her breast, his thumb doing insane things to her nipple. Every part of her was on fire, lit from within, suddenly more alive than she could ever remember being. She’d forgotten this feeling. She’d pushed it deep into a part of herself where passion and desire didn’t exist. She was a mother and a wife. But in that moment, she felt like a lover. He was rock hard against her, pressing his arousal into her belly, making her mindless with need.
“I want you,” he muttered against her lips as the kissing went on and on. “I want you so much,” he said, dragging air into his lungs as he kissed her jaw and her neck and the insanely sensitive spot below her ear. He sucked on her lobe, whispering, grinding closer, and Mariella wrapped her arms around his waist. She threw her head back, and he moved lower, pushing aside her bikini top, and then his mouth closed over one straining, aching nipple. Sensation arrowed directly between her thighs as he suckled the tender flesh. She’d forgotten that heat, that need, that feeling that told her there was more to be had. Much more. All she could want. He moved back up, kissing, nipping, licking her skin.
“I’m crazy for you,” he admitted. “I want you so much.”
Mariella groaned as his tongue thrust between her teeth, pressing closer, feeling him grow harder, wanting him with an intensity that was suddenly terrifying. “I want you, too.”
And then, as though her capitulation had somehow switched on a light inside him, Joe heaved his mouth from hers and staggered back, dragging deep breaths into his lungs.
Mariella sagged against the pillar, staring at him, wild-eyed and confused. Her lips throbbed, her breasts were hard, her nipples peaked and aching for his touch, and there was a heat between her thighs that she hadn’t felt since forever. But he took another step back. And then another. And another. And then he turned, moving toward the edge of the pool, his broad shoulders moving up and down jerkily. She quickly pulled the bikini top back into place and grabbed the edges of her wrap, covering herself. Her entire body was on fire, and her knees felt so weak she could barely stand. All she wanted was to go to him, to help alleviate the ethical crisis he was clearly experiencing.
But she didn’t. She stayed where she was and waited for Joe to speak. But a moment later, Vanessa returned to the patio carrying a pitcher of sangria. Were her housekeeper’s hands shaking? Mariella couldn’t be sure. Had she seen them? Mariella hoped not. Vanessa had always proven to be discreet, but the last thing she wanted was anyone witnessing what she and Joe had just been doing in broad daylight. Once the other woman hurriedly disappeared, Mariella found the strength in her legs to walk toward the pool. Joe turned before she reached him. He was pale, stricken.
“God forgive me,” he said raggedly.
Mariella reached out and put a finger to his lips. “Don’t,” she whispered. “Don’t be sorry.”
He grabbed her hand and held it against his chest, and she felt him trembling. “I’m gonna go straight to hell for this.”
“Maybe,” she said and moved closer. “But I’ll go with you.”
And then she was in his arms again and his lips were on hers and his tongue was thrusting into her mouth and his hips were grinding into hers. And, suddenly, nothing else mattered.
* * *
Nora tapped her long, perfectly manicured red nails across the screen and stared at the photograph. Tabloid photos were often grainy and indistinguishable. But she knew what she was looking at. And whom.
Harrison’s children.
The two youngest. Dining out at one of her favorite Paris restaurants. Laughing. Looking as though they didn’t have a care in the world.
She studied them for a few moments and noticed their similarities. Both had brown eyes. Harrison had blue. They both had the same jawline, the same arched brows. Harrison certainly produced handsome children.
The notion made her instinctively touch her belly.
If her baby looked like either of them, then she’d be happy.
She couldn’t help wondering if Harrison would be joining his children soon. She knew how much he adored Paris. And from all accounts, he would be out of the private clinic and back on his feet very soon. The interview she’d watched made it clear he was doing well. She’d called the hospital, but they refused to tell her anything. She wasn’t family, she wasn’t going to be told anything. But she suspected he’d be transferred to a private clinic. Somewhere expensive and discreet. Because, of course, the Marshalls could afford the very best. And that fiery Latina he was married to would demand everything her own way, so Harrison’s swift recovery was a given. But she missed him desperately. And was mad at him, too. She wasn’t the sort of woman used to being discarded. But he had...he’d dumped her well and truly.
“I am with child,” she whispered.
Harrison slowly lowered the paper from in front of his face. “What?” His face hardened. “This can’t happen.” He pointed a finger at her that could have easily been a knife. “It won’t happen.” He didn’t say another word. He picked up his jacket from the back of the chair and brushed by her.
“Harrison...”
He kept walking to the door.
He never looked back.
The memory of his parting words still stung.
She rubbed her stomach.
She was having a baby. Harrison’s baby.
Nora looked at the photograph again and smiled to herself. She knew how much Harrison loved his children. He’d told her countless times that they were the most important thing in the world to him.
And you will be, too, mon bébé.
I promise.
She reread the article. So, the Marshall kids were heading back home in two days. She quickly considered her options and came up with only one.
It was time she reminded Harrison Marshall that he was definitely going to be a papa again.
