Читать книгу Secrets Of The A-List - Michelle Major, Michelle Major - Страница 8

Chapter One

Gabe looked from his cousin to the housekeeper, mentally assessing the situation. Tension crackled in the air. Luc’s eyes flashed with anger, whether at Vanessa or from being interrupted, Gabe couldn’t tell. In contrast, the beautiful housekeeper’s big chocolate-colored eyes were filled with tears.

Something was wrong between these two, and like a bloodhound on a scent, Gabe was determined to get to the truth. “What the hell is going on in here?”

“It’s nothing,” Luc muttered, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket and studying the screen.

“I’m simply upset about Mr. Marshall,” Vanessa said quickly, unwilling to meet Gabe’s gaze, “and the toll this accident is having on Mrs. Santiago-Marshall and the rest of the family. Luc was offering some words of comfort and encouragement.”

“Right,” Gabe answered. In his experience, members of a house staff didn’t become emotionally involved in the lives of the people who paid them. As long as the weekly check kept coming, why would someone like Vanessa care so much about Harrison’s well-being?

The Fixer had ensured none of Harrison’s children suspected their father had a wandering eye. But as far as Gabe knew, his uncle hadn’t ever had a dalliance with the young housekeeper. Which led Gabe’s thoughts back to Luc.

Gabe eyed his cousin carefully, but Luc’s face was an unreadable mask even as his icy blue stare landed back on the housekeeper.

Vanessa swiped at her cheeks. “I need to check on Mrs. Santiago-Marshall,” she whispered and hurried away.

Gabe could have sworn her fingers brushed Luc’s as she moved past. Interesting.

“Have you heard anything new about my dad?” Luc demanded, hands on hips.

It was a conspicuous change of subject, but Gabe played along. No sense alerting Luc to his suspicions regarding Vanessa at this point.

“Your father’s condition is unchanged,” Gabe answered, frustration creeping up his spine. “We’re waiting to hear back from another doctor, this one in London.”

Of all the situations he’d fixed over the years, his numerous skills couldn’t seem to do anything to help the one man who meant the most to him.

Gabe hated feeling powerless. It reminded him too much of his childhood before he’d come to live with his aunt and uncle at Casa Cat. Any kid would have been happy to be raised on the stunning Spanish revival estate. The massive theater room in the basement and the enormous pool had made the Marshall kids—plus Gabe—the envy of all their friends. But Gabe was mostly grateful for the love and stability his aunt and uncle had shown him.

Luc gave a curt nod. “What about Rafe and Elana? Have you heard how their trip to Paris is going?”

Gabe bit back his annoyance at being interrogated by his cousin. Luc assumed Gabe was content to be the family’s workhorse, keeping tabs on individual schedules like a social secretary. He had no idea how much influence Gabe truly wielded behind the scenes. Gabe took a deep breath before answering. His power in this family was indisputable, even if no one other than Harrison understood that.

“They get home today,” he said, earning another nod from his cousin. “I’ve arranged a car to pick them up at LAX.”

“My brother and sister are flying commercial?” Luc asked with a small laugh.

Gabe inclined his head. “Rafe suggested the company jet stay at the hangar in case we needed it for an emergency with your dad. I’m guessing Elana took some convincing, but it made sense.”

“Good thinking on Rafe’s part. Maybe Elana won’t notice she’s flying commercial. She’ll still be on a high after all of that shopping for the wedding. Do you think Elana and Thom will really go through with it?”

“The wedding?” Gabe asked, although he understood Luc’s question. But he wanted to draw out his cousin and determine if Luc had any idea of the secret Thom was keeping from his bride-to-be.

“Yes, the wedding. Can you really imagine Elana settling down to domestic bliss? Thom’s a nice guy, but my sister has never had a thing for nice guys. Not for long, anyway. He might be a little too much on the straight and narrow to keep her attention.”

Gabe hid his smile. Clearly Luc had no idea that Elana’s fiancé wasn’t on the straight path to anything. “Thom definitely made a mess of things at the engagement party. Maybe you’re not the only one who’s worried about Elana getting cold feet.”

“Chances are the reality of what Thom is taking on with Elana has finally started to sink in. The Marshalls and the Scotts have always been friends, but this wedding will take things to a new level. Thom is going to have his hands full. He might care about Elana, but that doesn’t mean he’ll want to deal with her shenanigans for the rest of his life. Our mom is old-fashioned in her opinion of marriage. If she has her way, Elana and Thom will be tied together forever.”

“You paint a dismal picture of wedded bliss,” Gabe said quietly.

“I’ve got nothing against marriage. But you have to choose the person who’s the best fit. If a man is going to spend an entire life with one woman, he’d damn well better make sure he picks the right one.”

“What about you?” Gabe reached down and trailed a casual finger along the cool marble of the ornate side table. “Have you found the right woman?”

Luc took a step back and stared at Gabe, mouth agape. Gabe couldn’t remember a time when he’d seen his normally calm, cool and collected cousin look so unnerved. Even at his father’s bedside, Luc had managed to keep his emotions in check. But now color poured into his cheeks, and his chest rose and fell in shallow breaths.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Luc answered, crossing his arms over his chest.

Gabe shrugged. “Rachel dropped a few not-so-subtle hints at the engagement party. She’s pretty sure a ring is in her future.”

“Rachel,” Luc repeated on an exaggerated breath. Gabe could almost see the tension leaving his shoulders. “Of course.”

“Of course you’re planning to propose?”

Luc dropped his hands to his side as he moved toward the picture window that overlooked the mansion’s elegantly landscaped front yard. He stared out into the crisp California sun for a few moments, as if contemplating his answer.

Gabe waited. He was good at waiting.

“I suppose an engagement will happen sooner than later,” Luc conceded, turning back to Gabe. “Rachel’s beautiful and comes with an impeccable pedigree. She’ll be an asset as a wife.”

“That’s an interesting way of looking at it,” Gabe said with a smile. “Are you planning a romantic proposal or a business transaction?”

“It goes without saying that I care about her,” Luc added, but there was no emotion lighting his gaze or voice. Vastly different from how he’d looked when Gabe first walked in on Vanessa and him arguing. Interesting, indeed.

Gabe had made a habit of covertly reviewing the applications of anyone who applied for a staff position within the Marshall household. Nothing about Vanessa had caught his eye, but perhaps it was time he took a closer look at her background. Life was often like a game of chess, and nothing took the place of understanding all the players on the board.

“Have you found any more information on the Fixer?” Luc moved forward, running a hand through his dark hair. His tone communicated that the conversation about his love life had come to a decisive end.

No matter to Gabe. Luc had told him plenty without saying a word.

“I have some feelers out there. It’s an odd balance, you know, looking for information on this mystery person without tipping them off to our suspicions.”

“I understand.” Luc sighed. “It’s still difficult to believe the Fixer has operated all these years without anyone but my father knowing their true identity.”

Gabe nodded even as pride welled in his chest. He was a master at what he did, and it was continually satisfying to know how much power he wielded without anyone being the wiser. Anyone but Thom, he amended to himself. But Elana’s fiancé would be handled, one way or another.

He decided to do a little fishing with Luc to determine if anyone else had theories as to the Fixer’s identity.

“It’s likely the Fixer is someone close to the family. Given the influence he or she exerts within the business, chances are the Fixer has been hiding in plain sight all these years.”

Luc rubbed a hand on the back of his neck. “That’s disturbing.”

“I suppose,” Gabe admitted. “But we can’t ignore anyone until we have firmer leads on the Fixer’s identity. He or she could be someone who works for the business in a legitimate capacity. Or maybe here on staff?” He raised a brow. “Perhaps someone like Vanessa?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Luc said, amusement coloring his tone. “She hardly fits the profile. I think you’re definitely overestimating my mother’s housekeeper.”

Just as you have underestimated me for years, Gabe thought silently. Decades-old anger made his gut clench, and he worked to keep his features placid. He’d thought they were best friends once. He’d been wrong. Luc had never seen him as anything more than a poor relation, a charity case taken in by the Marshalls and offering nothing in return.

But Gabe had made himself indispensable. He was the real power, and he’d protect his place in the business no matter who opposed him.

His aunt had always favored him. Part of why he’d taken on so much was to make himself worthy of all that Mariella had given him. At the end of the day, she and Harrison were the only two that counted.

Luc could be managed. Everyone could be managed. That was the Fixer’s expertise.

“I’ll keep searching for information,” Gabe told his cousin, earning a paternal nod that made his jaw ache with simmering tension.

“Keep me updated on any developments.” Luc made a show of checking his watch, clearly communicating that Gabe was being dismissed.

“I came to the house to speak to your mother,” he said before Luc had the chance to actually send him away. “Have you seen her?”

“Vanessa said...” Luc began then paused and cleared his throat. “The last I heard she was out at the pool. You might start there.”

“Thanks.” Gabe started down the hall that led to the rear of the mansion.

Luc could believe whatever he wanted about who was in charge. Gabe knew he was the one calling the shots. The thought calmed him. With a slight smile at how shocked everyone would be to learn the truth, he went searching for his aunt.

* * *

Mariella’s pulse raced as Joe trailed kisses along her neck and down into the deep V of her bikini top. She should stop this now, but Joe’s mouth on her body felt so good.

Backing up until her legs hit the soft fabric of the bed’s comforter, she kept her fingers interlaced with Joe’s. Concerned about being seen from the mansion’s windows, she’d led her husband’s best friend away from the pool, through the house and to her bedroom.

The bedroom she’d shared with Harrison for more years than she cared to count.

A sliver of guilt snaked a path along her spine, quickly chased away by Joe’s deep kisses.

“Christ, you’re beautiful,” he whispered, slowing tugging down her gauzy wrap then pushing the straps of the bikini off her shoulders. His warm fingers grazed her cool skin.

Although he was a Harvard-educated attorney, Joe was built like an Irish street fighter. He and Harrison were of a similar height, but Joe’s shoulders were wider, his chest broad and muscled even in middle age. His hands felt strong, sturdy and ridiculously tempting as they traveled her body.

She reached behind her to pull down the covers and sank back on the bed. Joe followed, but instead of covering her with his body, he knelt over her as if he was afraid to actually touch her in any intimate way.

Mariella had been faithful to Harrison all the years of her marriage. She’d never once been tempted to stray. And while people still lauded her beauty, she wasn’t twenty-five anymore. Her body showed signs of age that could no longer be camouflaged by expensive creams or trips to either the best dermatologists in Beverly Hills or Luc’s exclusive plastic surgery clinic.

For a moment, embarrassment washed over her. How could she be here exposing her fifty-five-year-old body to a man who hadn’t known what she looked like in her prime? It was one thing to grow old alongside someone, but when it was so new...

Then she glanced up to Joe’s face—to the man she’d known as long as she’d known her husband—and her breath caught. There were no words that could describe the mix of desire and possessiveness revealed in his eyes.

“You make me feel like I’m fifteen again,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I don’t even know where to begin.”

She took one of his big hands in hers. Her heart leaped to find that his fingers trembled as she lifted it and placed it over her breast.

“Mariella,” he murmured, and her name on his lips was beautiful. He leaned in and claimed her mouth again. As he did, his thumb grazed her sensitive nipple.

Her body grew heavy, and a moan rose in her throat. The noise—both blessed and damned—jolted her back to reality. She was on the verge of inviting a man who wasn’t her husband into her bed.

The lusty moan turned into a strangled cry as she wrenched herself away and rushed toward the dresser on the opposite wall, pulling up her bathing suit straps as she moved.

“Mariella,” he said again, and this time it was a plea.

“I can’t,” she said on a sob, fighting back tears. She would not cry. This was wrong. She was a married woman. Joe was Harrison’s best friend. It had to be the stress they were under, she told herself, although she knew it was a lie.

Pulling in a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and turned to face Joe. His tie was loosened and askew. Several buttons of his shirt were undone, the hem untucked where she’d yanked it from his suit pants. Even now the glimpse of his bare chest made her mouth go dry.

“I’m a horrible person,” she whispered and held up a hand as Joe took a step toward her. “Don’t,” she told him. “When you touch me, I forget everything except how I feel. I’m a married woman. What was I thinking?”

He ran a hand through his hair, leaving the ends sticking up at adorable angles that made her want to smooth her fingers over them. But it wasn’t her place. Joe Reynolds didn’t belong to her, and she sure as hell didn’t belong to him.

“You weren’t thinking,” he told her gently. “You said the word that describes this. You were feeling, Mariella. And following your heart.” His voice lowered as he added, “I know where my heart lies, and it’s with you.”

She shook her head, unwilling to admit the truth in his words. “That’s crazy. I love my husband, and he’s injured. He needs me more than ever.” He only continued to study her. “Did you hear me? I said I love him.”

“I know you do,” he answered after a moment, slowly buttoning his shirt. “But he doesn’t deserve you, sweetheart. He never did.”

Mariella sniffed. “Harrison does his best.” In truth, they still made love often. But as for passion...well, they weren’t newlyweds anymore.

Joe moved toward her slowly, as if approaching a caged animal. Mariella wasn’t sure whether to be moved by the care with which he treated her or offended that he thought her weak enough to need kid gloves.

“I don’t want to pressure you.” He reached for her hand, lifted her fingers to his lips and placed a gentle kiss on each knuckle. “The last thing I want is to cause you pain.”

“I know,” she assured him, her heart stammering at the reverence in his touch. “You’ve been my rock through all of this, Joe. You’re a good friend. You always have been.”

“I want to be there for you, Mariella.” He squeezed her fingers. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted. You know that, right?”

“This has been an emotional time. I understand—”

“Do you?” he interrupted, his blue eyes piercing her with their intensity. “I’ve always loved you. Always wanted you.”

His declaration pounded against her head like a tidal wave. She tried to take a step away, but he held fast to her hand.

“My feelings can’t be a surprise. From the start—”

“I was with Harrison,” Mariella interrupted.

One side of Joe’s mouth quirked, not quite a smile. Something infinitely softer. Sadder. “Do you remember the first time Harrison and I met you?”

“Of course. I was out with my girlfriends. I couldn’t believe it when Harrison approached the group and singled me out.”

“You were wearing an aqua dress with a pleated skirt and a black belt. You were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.”

Mariella laughed. “That dress was my absolute favorite. I can’t believe you remember it.”

“I remember everything about that night,” Joe said softly, “especially the fact that my best friend saw that I wanted the beautiful girl with the long, shiny hair and luminous brown eyes and made his move on her before I even got to the courage to say hello.”

“Joe.”

“I was shy and awkward with women.” He flashed a smile. “Some things never change. Harrison was always a ladies’ man. He had charm oozing from every pore.”

“Some things never change,” Mariella murmured.

“But he couldn’t get over the advantages I had because of my family and education. It became a sport for him to best me where he could.” He lifted her hand again and placed a tender kiss on the inside of her palm then released his grip on her. “You were something special. He and I both recognized it from the start.”

Mariella pressed her fingers to her chest, unable to hide her shock. “You’ve been his friend all these years.”

“Harrison Marshall can’t change who he is any more than a great white shark can stop its instinct to hunt,” Joe said with a shrug. “Anyone who knows your husband loves him despite his flaws. He’s like fire on a bitter-cold winter’s night, and it’s almost impossible to walk away from that kind of heat.”

“Yes,” she agreed before her gaze strayed to the bed with its rumpled covers. She’d had that comforter custom made in Italy five years ago when she’d been trying to reignite the spark in her marriage because she and Harrison become so busy with the business and rarely saw each other.

As if expensive bedding and Egyptian cotton sheets would be enough when they both continued to work nonstop creating their empire. She still loved her husband. He’d swept her off her feet when she’d been a girl of twenty-three, reeling from the heartbreak of her first love’s betrayal. But after thirty-two years, their marriage had begun to feel more like a business partnership than a true love match.

Joe massaged his jaw between his fingers, as if her admission of Harrison’s magnetism was a physical blow. “I apologize if I misread the situation. The last thing in the world I want is to hurt you. Already I—”

“You haven’t done anything wrong,” she assured him.

“I wish that were the case,” he whispered, taking several steps toward the door. He turned back to her, tucking in his shirt then straightening his cuffs. “The decision is yours to make, Mariella. I’ll be waiting. I always have been.”

“Don’t say that.”

“I can accept the truth of my feelings for you,” he answered. “Whether we remain friends or become lovers, I’ll still be here when you need me.”

“Oh, Joe.”

He smoothed a hand over his hair then opened the door and peered out. “I’m going to go before anyone sees us together. You know where to find me.”

Mariella watched as the door closed behind him. Her grip on the edge of the mahogany dresser was so tight her knuckles went white. She turned to study herself in the mirror and willed her breath to even out.

Adrenaline coursed through her, and her head reeled from acknowledging a passion she hadn’t felt for a man in years. It might make her a horrible person and a terrible wife, but she wanted Joe. Heaven help her, she needed to find a way to control her desire.

Her husband was in a coma. Their entire family remained vulnerable to the machinations of the Fixer and whatever power he or she might choose to wield against them. She forced herself to remember her place in this family—what was expected of her and the fact that weakness wasn’t an option. Not for Mariella Santiago-Marshall.

Nothing good would come of pursuing a relationship with Joe. He’d told her he would remain her friend no matter what she decided, and she intended to hold him to that promise. With one more glance at the mussed bed, she changed into one of the slim black sheath dresses she favored for work, reapplied lipstick from the gold tube that sat on her dresser and walked toward the door.

No one must ever guess what had almost happened here, and she couldn’t afford to let it happen again.