Читать книгу Secrets Of The A-List Box Set, Volume 3 - Dani Collins - Страница 13
ОглавлениеA few days later
Elana untied her white sarong, dropped it on the lounger and dived into the blissfully cool waters of her private infinity pool. She swam a few lengths of the black-and-aqua-tiled pool before she slowed to a stop, braced her arms on the edge and basked in the view.
Their three-bedroom Balinese honeymoon villa was beyond spectacular. Perched on the side of a hill with a secluded bay beyond the extensive grounds, the tropical paradise was stunning enough to make Elana’s jaw drop. In the four days since they’d been here, their every wish had been catered to and exceeded.
Although she was reluctant to admit it, she felt miles better now that the wedding was behind her and she was a world away from Santa Barbara and the fraught situation with her dad.
She’d been pampered to within an inch of her life, and the first signs of stress relief she’d felt when she and Thom boarded her family’s private jet at Van Nuys airport had finally bloomed into full-blown relaxation. And the extra bonus was the disappearance of the nausea that had plagued her. It was enough for her to conclude that old woman’s comment in the bathroom before the wedding had been exactly what she’d thought it was at the time—complete crap! But, truth be told, she’d been seriously worried there for a while that she was pregnant. Hell, the thought had lingered long enough to ruin her drinking at her own wedding, save for a few sips of champagne to prevent any probing questions.
But just as quickly as it’d started, her nausea had abated. And now all of that worrying nonsense was behind her, she could truly enjoy her honeymoon.
Bali was truly beautiful, and their piece of heaven even more so.
A tiny part of her wished she and Thom could stay here forever. She didn’t want to go back to Santa Barbara and spend endless hours watching the worry on her mother’s face she tried so hard to hide, or witnessing Luc and Rafe skirt each other like cage fighters about to tear each other to pieces.
Above all, she didn’t want to go back to having Jarrod within tempting distance. In fact, she didn’t feel like thinking about or even seeing Jarrod again.
Liar.
She smothered the pang of guilt. Sure, she missed him. Missed the excitement he evoked in her. Missed the illicit thrill of their connection. Missed the unmistakable power of his cock inside her, pounding her to mind-altering ecstasy.
But this was her honeymoon.
She was married now.
Thom was a good, sweet man, if a little clueless at times. The sex wasn’t exactly setting her world on fire, but surely there was more to life, and marriage, than great sex, right?
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
She jumped at the voice that scattered her thoughts. “What?”
“You’re staring at your wedding ring and frowning,” Thom observed from his relaxed position on the lounger next to the one she’d been using.
Beside him stood a silver bucket with a bottle of Dom Pérignon chilling on ice. On the low, wide table, next to twin crystal champagne glasses, a platter of appetizing hors d’oeuvres prepared by their personal chef was ready to be devoured.
She quickly smoothed her features, suppressing thoughts of Jarrod and the toe-curling orgasms he’d given her the night before the wedding. “Am I?” she asked absently, weaving her legs in the water to cool her rising temperature.
“Yes. Should I be worried?” he asked with eyebrows raised.
She forced a laugh. “Of course not, silly. I... I was just think about my dad,” she lied blithely.
Thom sat up, tossed his gold-rimmed Ray-Bans onto the table and stared at her with worried eyes. “You haven’t heard anything, have you? Has he taken a turn for the worse?” he asked.
“No. At least I hope not. I’m taking no news to be good news.” She attempted to smile, a little regretful she’d spoiled the lovely atmosphere with lies and thoughts of her married lover. “I wish he could’ve been at the wedding, though.”
Thom rose and approached where she was clinging to the side of the pool. In his turquoise swimming shorts and the darker coffee tan he’d achieved in the few days they’d been in Bali, her husband’s sleek, athletic figure was eye-catching enough to capture and hold her attention. He had a six-pack most men would envy, he moved with an inherent grace and his face and soulful brown eyes were movie-star gorgeous.
He was a catch. She couldn’t deny that.
When he folded his tall length down beside her and dangled his legs in the pool, she looked up into his face, wishing he evoked the same thrill in her that Jarrod did.
She smashed the thought away as Thom reached out and gently cradled her cheek. “I wish your dad had been there, too. But I’m sure he’s being well taken care of. Try not to worry too much, okay?”
Sudden tears clogged her throat, his unfettered concern touching her. She wasn’t sure why she felt so emotional lately. Again that pang of guilt pierced her. She quickly blinked the tears away, blaming it on the final release of all the pre-and post-wedding jitters. She should be enjoying her honeymoon, not second-guessing the choices she’d made.
Thom cared for her. She wasn’t sure what she felt for him was love—maybe just deep friendship—but she truly believed they could make this work.
The smile she managed to summon felt natural, and she breathed an inward sigh of relief as she laid her hand over his and basked in his affectionate smile. “Okay, I’ll think only positive thoughts.”
“Good.” His hand traced her jaw then caressed down her neck to her shoulder. “Are you coming out to grab a bite to eat? The steak tostada bites are amazing, and you’ll love the cucumber and shrimp bruschetta.”
“Ah, so many carbs, so little time.”
“We have another few days. You can work it in,” he replied with a grin.
“I’m sure I can. But I need to work off some calories first.” Her wicked smile was all the warning she gave him before she grabbed his hand and yanked him into the pool.
He paid her back by diving deeper into the water, then grabbing her legs to drag her down to join him. They were both spluttering and laughing when they resurfaced.
It felt like the most natural thing in the world right then to link her arms behind his neck when Thom pulled her close and nuzzled her cheek. “Need to work off some calories, huh? What do you have in mind for that?”
Elana leaned closer and whispered in his ear, “I don’t know, Thom. I could continue swimming.”
“Or I could go for something even more stimulating,” she said.
“I might have a suggestion.”
“Do you? Fine. Surprise me,” she challenged.
When he hesitated for a moment, then reached behind her to free the ties to her white bikini top, Elana wished her heart would race as fast as it did when another set of hands touched her.
When Thom settled his mouth over hers and pressed his tongue into her mouth, she guiltily wished for a deeper, more carnal version of the kiss.
When he carried her naked out of the pool, laid her down on the double-wide cabana bed and positioned himself between her thighs, she closed her eyes and tried to steep herself in the moment.
And when her husband called her beautiful and slid deep inside her, Elana called herself ten kinds of fool for wishing for more pleasure, for wishing that her bliss didn’t feel so far out of reach.
Sex wasn’t everything. And hell, more often than not, it was overrated.
The inner voice that mocked her assertion was ruthlessly ignored as she redoubled her efforts to enjoy her husband’s lovemaking. She must have succeeded, because very soon Thom was moaning his release, peppering her face with kisses as their breaths resettled. And minutes later, he was dozing, sated, beside her.
She listened to his light snores as she stroked his smooth chest. And as drowsiness and the call of exotic birds drew her into sleep, she reiterated to herself that she would make her marriage work.
Somehow.
* * *
Thom padded barefoot over the dark polished teak floor of the main hallway in search of the snack for his wife.
His wife.
He was beginning to get used to the term, maybe even getting comfortable with it. Any wish he harbored that the term was a different one now was suppressed beneath the acceptance that this was his life now.
From here on out, he would choose to count his blessings. For one thing, their honeymoon had gotten off to a great start. There was a naturalness between him and Elana that hadn’t been there before. For another, his secret was even safer now he was married. He didn’t doubt that leaving Santa Barbara and Gabe’s menacing threats behind had a lot to do with his calmer state of mind.
Or it could be the fantastic couple’s massage he and Elana had shared before lunch three hours ago, during which they’d had a lighthearted debate about their favorite moments on The Big Bang Theory.
He smiled to himself as he entered the immaculate chef’s kitchen.
“Mr. Scott, you didn’t have to come out. I was just about to bring this in to you,” the chef said, sliding two large bowls of popcorn onto a tray.
Thom waved him away. “It’s fine. I needed to stretch my legs. And my wife isn’t exactly known for her patience.”
He watched the chef sprinkle cinnamon on one bowl and extra butter on the other before he took the tray and made his way back across the sunken living room and through a series of hallways back to the screening room.
Second only to the pool, the villa’s sumptuous red-leathered upholstered private cinema had become their favorite place. And they’d been making vigorous use of it so far. Elana was sprawled on a lounger large enough to hold six people, her hair spread out on the cushion tucked beneath her head. She was scrolling through her phone, but she set it aside and smiled at him as he handed her the cinnamon popcorn.
She planted the bowl on her stomach and shoved a handful of popcorn into her mouth. “Oh, yum. So good,” she groaned. “I don’t know what they put in this stuff, but I’m taking a suitcase of it back home with us.”
Thom smiled and took his place beside her. “Happy?” he couldn’t help but ask. Perhaps he was seeking reassurance of his ability to be a good husband to her. Perhaps he was seeking to solidify a foundation that would hold against external pressures once they returned home.
He’d discovered for himself just how powerful and ruthless some of the Marshalls could be. He needed to shore up his defenses. If ensuring Elana was happy was one way, then that was what he would do.
She rolled her eyes and took another mouthful of popcorn. “Ecstatic. Thank you, husband,” she mumbled with a grin.
His smile widened as he picked up the remote and hit Play. “You’re very welcome, wife.”
Yes, the path of his life was truly set. And hopefully, now that he was married, the Fixer would leave him the hell alone.
* * *
“If you’re ready, madam, just close your eyes. Breathe in through your nose. Out through your mouth. That’s it. Now, slowly repeat the process until you feel each inhale and exhale flow right through your body. Out through your fingertips and the soles of your feet, making you as light, light, light as the very air itself...”
Elana closed her eyes, blocking out the diminutive dark-haired, dark-eyed Balinese woman who’d arrived at the villa for a private meditation session ten minutes ago.
She’d never done anything like this before. For one thing, she didn’t think she needed it. For another, her attention span when it came to sitting still for long periods was abysmal. But having done everything on their tailored relaxation list at least twice since their arrival, and with Thom working out in their private gym, she’d had a couple of hours to burn and had agreed when the butler had recommended the meditation session.
Now she made an effort to concentrate, letting the late-afternoon sun warm her back and the aromatic candles burning nearby soothe her as she sat cross-legged on the woven mat in the glass-walled spa room at the opposite end of the villa from the pool.
On the other side of the glass, across the vibrant garden, a stone water feature tumbled water into a plunge pool. The muted sound filtered into the room, adding nature’s music to the calm atmosphere.
“Hold out your hands, please?” the woman garbed in colorful Balinese tie-dye instructed softly.
Elana extended her palms. A moment later, she felt the cool touch of metal. One was rough, the other smooth.
“The copper and zinc coins will help renew your energy, center your chakra. Keep breathing,” she murmured, her lyrical accent lulling Elana into a deeper sense of peace than she would’ve imagined she was capable of.
She closed her fingers over the metals, rested her upturned hands on her thighs and breathed out. Something soft and warm and steady settled inside her. Like a hug from her mother when she was a child, it soothed her.
“Clear your mind of all your troubles. Invite love. Invite peace. Invite warmth to your center. Breathe them in, exhale your troubles. Be at one with yourself.”
The urge to fidget melted away as the gentle instructions feathered over her. Her pulse dulled to soothing thuds, the churning in her brain that had felt like a part of her life for so long slowing right down to a steady stream of pleasant thoughts.
Elana had never felt this calm. This at peace. She was more than a little in awe of what the session was doing to her body and mind.
Rachel had raved about the effects of Pilates and yoga, but Elana had always preferred a harder workout. There was something about sweating out your stress by punching a bag or pounding a treadmill that always did it for her. But perhaps she’d been too quick to rule out meditation. She would definitely look into finding a private tutor when she got back home to Santa Barbara.
She lost track of time, submitting blissfully to an inner peace she’d never known before.
A burst of orange behind her eyelids told her another spectacular Balinese sunset was exploding across the horizon when the woman spoke again.
“Open your eyes and be at peace, madam.”
Elana sighed, then slowly opened her eyes, almost unwilling to let go of the magic she’d found. “Thank you. That was amazing,” she murmured.
The woman inclined her head deferentially and took the metal coins from her. “There is an inner warmth and peace that comes with having a beautiful new soul to care for.”
Elana smiled. “Oh, you mean Thom? My new husband? I wouldn’t call him a new soul, but I guess...” Her words trailed off as the woman shook her head.
“No, madam, I don’t mean your husband.”
The woman’s gaze dropped to where Elana had subconsciously placed her hand on her belly.
The sensation that lanced through her in that moment was almost cosmic, if you believed in that sort of crap. Which she sure as hell didn’t. Nevertheless, this time she couldn’t stop the knowledge she’d been subconsciously holding at bay from resurfacing, hammering home a truth she could no longer escape.
And when the woman smiled indulgently and opened her mouth, she knew. She knew what was coming. “It’s happening, madam. I think you know that you carry a new life in your womb.”
* * *
Thom was beginning to think he should’ve joined his wife in her meditation ritual. Because contrary to what he’d hoped for when he’d decided to wake up his endorphins, the last thing he felt was relaxed. He’d hoped the strenuous workout session would help clear his mind. Instead, with each passing second that the clock counted down to the end of his honeymoon, his thoughts and gut churned.
Was it only a couple of days ago that he’d foolishly reassured himself his life was on solid ground? That he had what it took to deny his true self and be a good husband to Elana? Tomorrow they were leaving Bali to head back to Santa Barbara.
Back to the reality of the presence of the Fixer in his life, possibly watching his every move. The man with a definite upper hand when it came to how badly he could ruin Thom and his family.
Back to thoughts of Lane Devereux, Mariella’s hairdresser, and the man Thom had sworn he’d obliterated from his mind.
Why the hell was he thinking about that now? He knew why, he mused darkly.
Like each and every encounter when he was forced to acknowledge his true self, the moment had been real. It had reminded him of the possibilities out there if he were brave enough to step out of the closet.
He was also thinking about it now because he’d seen the shrewd recognition in Lane’s eyes during that moment they’d shared on the edge of the cliff. His mother-in-law’s stylist was so in touch with his sexuality, he could spot a fraud from twenty paces. It’d taken a single look for him to know exactly what Thom was hiding.
Thom also knew men like Lane eventually came to detest people like him. Would he out Thom? Probably not now that Thom was married to a Marshall. The stylist wouldn’t risk alienation from one of California’s most powerful families by running his mouth.
Except none of that brought Thom any reassurance. Even if he could deal with Lane, Gabe the Fixer was another matter entirely.
Thom tossed back the last of his pre-dinner cognac and swallowed the smooth taste, wishing the booze would dull the edges of his rioting senses. Because short of alcohol, the only thing that would soothe him was—
Shit. No.
He clenched his fists on his thighs and tried to steer his mind away from the secret stash of gay porn on his laptop. He hadn’t watched any in a while, certainly not since the wedding.
For a while he’d toyed with getting rid of the folder entirely. Maybe it was time to put all that behind him?
The sound of approaching footsteps put a mocking end to that train of thought less than a minute later. Thom cursed under his breath as he turned toward the sound, then cursed some more at the sight of the pool cleaner.
The young guy was built like a dark Adonis, the almost shy greeting he sent Thom’s way as he skirted the pool firing up thoughts he had no business thinking if he wanted to keep his cock from broadcasting his impure musings.
Fuck.
He raised one leg to hide the man’s effect on him as torrid images tumbled through his mind. Just fucking great, he mused bitterly, that even thousands of miles away from sunny Santa Barbara pool attendants were still hot enough to warrant second and third looks.
Enough already!
He should go in. Take a shower and take matters into his own hands like he’d toyed with minutes ago. Or better still, find Elana. Make love to his wife like he’d been doing since they got here. Or they could just talk.
When he was around her, thoughts of other men stayed suppressed in the secret vault in his mind where they belonged.
But his body refused to obey his brain. He remained on the lounger, his gaze once again straying to the man’s tight abs and ass. It was almost a relief when the attractive attendant gathered his cleaning equipment, wished Thom a good evening and vacated the terrace.
With one obstacle gone, his mind, still eager to find trouble, slid once again to Gabe. Within twenty-four hours he would be back in the Fixer’s orbit.
Under his mercy.
Hell, no.
Whatever he had to do, there was no way he was going back to being intimidated by the guy. From what he’d overheard on the phone, the Fixer had as much, if not more, to lose than Thom did. If nothing else, his new position as a member of the Marshall family would buy him some leverage. Would Gabe really threaten a member of his family?
He was pondering how best to turn that to his advantage when the sliding doors of the living room jerked open.
He managed to school his features into neutral before turning his head to watch Elana walk slowly toward him. But he needn’t have. Her head was downcast, her face severely pinched as she chewed on her bottom lip. As she drew closer, Thom noticed how pale she looked.
“Hey, are you okay? Did the meditation go that badly?” he half joked.
She shook her head distractedly and carried on walking straight past him. Thom frowned as he watched her stroll to the edge of the pool then stare blindly at the view.
If he had to guess, he would’ve said his wife had just had unwelcome news shoved down her throat. Except all she’d done was attend what should’ve been a mind-calming session. He knew she hadn’t received any phone calls from Santa Barbara regarding Harrison, because her phone was where she’d left it on the poolside table.
As if his thought connected to hers, she whirled around, stalked to the table and snatched up the phone. Frantically, her fingers flew over the surface, her frown deepening.
He sat up and planted his feet on the ground. “What’s going on, Elana?”
“What? Nothing. I’m... I’m fine.”
“Really? ’Cause you sure don’t look it. In fact, you look the opposite of post-meditation bliss.”
She flicked a shrug at him, her eyes still glued to the screen. “Yeah... I’m not cut out for it, I guess. Should’ve stuck to swimming.”
She was being cagey about something. But what? Was she sick? Surely she wouldn’t think he would berate her for being ill on their honeymoon? He wasn’t that much of an asshole, was he?
He dismissed the thought a second later. This was Elana Marshall. She didn’t need anyone’s permission to be sick.
Nevertheless...
“Honey, if you’re not feeling well, just tell me. I’m sure we can get one of the private doctors to see you—”
“No!” Her head snapped up from the phone, her eyes going wild for an intense moment. Then she smiled a very false, forced smile. “Seriously, Thom, I’m fine. I didn’t think I’d be the first to crack, but I think I’m just about ready to take a break from paradise.”
A thin band of steel tightened around his chest. “Tired of me already?”
She shook her head, but her gaze slid away from him, back to her damned phone. “No, of course not. I’m just...eager to start our lives together, you know?”
Thom nodded automatically, despite not being able to shake the thought that she was lying. Or at the very least not telling him the whole truth. He could’ve pressed her for more, he thought as she flashed a smile at him and retreated back into the villa.
But then, wasn’t he keeping huge secrets of his own?
