Friends in devious places...

Poor Elana Marshall. She just can’t catch a break. But balancing the men in her life is nothing compared to her latest earth-shattering secret. Too bad the Fixer can’t help—there’s a much bigger distraction: a demanding new client looking to pay big money for an even bigger job. Still, with the Marshalls circling the drain and the Fixer’s reputation on the line, “no” is simply not an option...

Super Rich. Super Sexy. Super Addictive.

Secrets of the A-List—read all 12 episodes!

Secrets of the A-List (Episode 10 of 12)

Dani Collins

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Praise for Dani Collins

“Her couple is the epitome of miscommunication, but watching them finally ‘get’ each other is worth every page. Oh, and the love scenes are jaw-dropping sizzlers!”

—RT Book Reviews on More than a Convenient Marriage

About the Author

Canadian DANI COLLINS knew in high school that she wanted to write romance for a living. Twenty-five years later, after marrying her high school sweetheart, having two kids with him, working at several generic office jobs and submitting countless manuscripts, she got The Call. Her first Harlequin novel won the Reviewers’ Choice Award for Best First in Series from RT Book Reviews. She now works in her own office, writing romance.

Dedication

This episode is dedicated to my grandmother, Lena, who introduced me to serials by insisting on quiet when her “programs” were on—Love of Life and The Young and the Restless. When Dallas started, we watched it together and she loved Dynasty, too. “Oh, I don’t trust that one,” she would say of whichever female character was behaving very badly, as if she knew them in real life. She would have loved to hate Ana. I so wish she was still with us. Secrets of the A-List would have been her jam.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Title Page

Praise

About the Author

Dedication

Episode Ten

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Copyright

Episode Ten

After taking two pregnancy tests, Elana is awaiting her fate. Pregnant or not? That’s the easy part. The problem arises when she thinks about who the father could be—husband Thom or lover Jarrod? When they said the first year of marriage was hard, they weren’t kidding...and damn, she’s only been married a few weeks so far!

Chapter One

The air wafting through the open window of Whispering Oaks carried a warm, dry mix of sage and chaparral. The weather today was particularly lovely, and some nurse or orderly had clearly thought it would be healthy to let some fresh air into Harrison’s room. Mariella found it as cloying as any hospital sickroom. The grounds she had initially judged restorative, with their tangle of colorful wildflowers across rockeries and walking paths that disappeared beneath shady trees, now struck her as too fussy and close. Claustrophobic.

She dragged her gaze back to the white-on-white room. Its attempt to look comfortable came off cold. The lack of contrast didn’t do her husband any favors, either. His tan was faded and his lips colorless. And he had yet to open his eyes.

Which wasn’t the only reason she found it difficult to face him, even lying still and unresponsive the way he was.

Had he somehow become smaller? Harrison had always dwarfed her, his six-foot height and robust frame making her feel safe and cosseted. Adored. His strength and dynamic personality had captured her from the first, giving her the confidence to hitch her future to his.

Now the light sheet covered a chest that seemed more barrel than muscle. His shoulders didn’t look like the ones that had always carried so much responsibility with such ease. His hair looked saltier, less peppered. His skin was pallid and waxy.

Maybe she simply saw him differently.

Maybe her parents had been right, and he wasn’t so much a driven entrepreneur as an opportunist. A gull, not an eagle.

The cold of the bed rail sank into her palms as she willed his eyes to open, wanting the flash of blue, some hint of the passion he used to have—for life, their future. Her.

She wanted to see the truth.

Who was this man?

For thirty-two years, she had thought him her soul mate. They had built a fortune, a name. A family. And yes, perhaps things had grown a little stale. They weren’t children any longer. They were mature adults with many demands on their time, but they had made a promise to each other. They were supposed to be a team.

She stared with hot, dry eyes, silently reminding him of that. He wasn’t the only one with ambitions. They had overcome challenges together. He had won her over with his desire to win with her.

That meant something, didn’t it? Didn’t they? When had she ceased to be enough? What did the other woman give him? What about the rest of the things he’d kept hidden? How many secrets did he even have? A mistress was bad enough, but the other... She didn’t even know what it was. Crimes? Who was the Fixer?

“Breathe, Tía Mariella,” Gabe said with a light touch against her white knuckles.

She realized she’d been holding air in and exhaled with a hissing rush.

“Where is Dr. Aebischer? I thought he was the best. Harrison should be awake by now, shouldn’t he?”

“These things take time. But if anyone can perform a miracle, it’s him. I promise you.”

Gabe was being such a rock through this. She didn’t know what she would have done without his steadying presence. No matter what had come up since this happened, whether it was about Harrison’s care or something to do with the business, he seemed ready to step up. Part of her wanted to collapse against him and let him take control of everything. To believe he could make everything right again.

As his words penetrated, however, she hit a mental wall. A crisis of faith.

“I don’t believe in miracles anymore.”

It shattered her to say it. Firm belief in herself, in her husband and in triumph over adversity had brought her this far. But everything was upside down and backward. She didn’t even know herself anymore, let alone her husband. It would take a miracle to turn back the clock and undo all of this, but she wouldn’t wish herself into ignorant bliss again.

“Tía,” Gabe chided. “He’ll come back. He loves you.”

“Does he?” The words were soft, but the cry was wrung from the depths of her soul. “I always thought so, but everything I’ve learned since this happened—”

A tiny sound, a barely perceptible catch of his breath, struck her ears like a sonic boom, leaving a ringing inside her head as she looked up at her nephew.

She always thought of him as an open book to her, but for a fraction of a second he was a complete stranger. Lethal. There was a dark knowledge in the backs of his eyes that made her think, He knows.

Everything inside her went still, hardening, but she didn’t know what he knew. That Harrison had a mistress? Who the Fixer was?

Did he know about Joe?

Even as her heart tried to leap out her throat, the impression disappeared. Gabe’s handsome features relaxed into the familiar ones she loved and trusted. In fact, he looked so much like his father, with his caring eyes and gentle smile, her heart took a sharp bounce.

Why was she thinking of her first love so often lately? Because of Ana, she supposed.

She swallowed a lump of emotion and looked at the man who had helped her overcome her first youthful broken heart—only to break it all over again. What had he been thinking all this time, carrying on with his mysterious second life? Had he not realized that one swerve on the highway could do this? Tear back the curtain and reveal all? Whatever he’d been doing had jeopardized his life and their life together.

It had jeopardized everything.

Into her turmoil, Gabe’s hand appeared, reaching to cover hers, warm and firm, just like his voice. “It’s important you don’t lose faith. He knows you love him, that you’re waiting for him.”

Did his hand feel a tiny bit heavier as he said that? Was there a hint of rebuke in his tone?

The nerves in her forearm stung as though poison leached into her blood. A hot pool of guilt gathered heavily in her middle.

She swept her culpable gaze over Harrison’s cleanly shaven face, forgetting her own transgression as she became furious all over again. Did Gabe know about Harrison’s infidelity? Did everyone? Was she one of those foolish women who were the last to know?

“Find the doctor,” she choked, fearing she was about to break down. She quickly softened her voice and offered a trembling smile. “Ask him when he thinks Harrison will wake up.”

Gabe studied her another few seconds. “Of course.” He nodded and left.

Taking a shaking breath, Mariella wondered if she even wanted Harrison to wake up. She cringed at the ugly thought, but at least if he died without waking, she could hang on to the shreds of love and respect she still had for in him. If—when?—he woke, she would have to confront him with his cheating.

And confess her own.

“I’m sleeping with Joe,” she whispered, getting not so much as a shift of his eyeballs behind his lids in acknowledgment.

Her affair with Joe was a sensual punch in the midsection each time she thought about it. She shouldn’t let it carry on, but he was a drug she couldn’t quit. She had gone to him again yesterday, behaving like an oversexed college girl, loins throbbing in heat as she drove to his home.

Who knew she could still feel like that? Merely remembering the stroke of his tongue into her mouth, the slide of his hands over her breasts and hips, working under her dress to gently pinch and massage, had her nipples tightening in this warm room.

She was standing over her comatose husband!

But in some ways, she and Harrison had both been less than conscious for years. Their sex life, though not as busy as when they were younger, was still active, but there wasn’t the same passion as she felt when she was with Joe.

Maybe Harrison had yearned for the same passion she was rediscovering. She couldn’t deny the excitement of having a fresh partner. Lovemaking became new again. They explored each other, played and caressed. She was flagrant in a way she hadn’t been in years.

She flushed all over, thinking she should have been more self-conscious with Joe’s head between her thighs. She had noted that the short strands of his hair felt different from her husband’s, which had somehow made the act all the more erotic and arousing. Everything felt different. Better. She had moaned aloud, caught up in more acute pleasure than she’d felt in eons. When he thrust inside her, she felt young again. Fully alive, not just going through the motions.

All of that would be lost when Harrison opened his eyes.

Joe would have to be pushed aside so she could return to—what? A marriage that wasn’t just stalled, but crumbling under the strain of too many secrets.

On the heels of that anguished thought was a more hopeless one. She and Joe had no future, either. They would never have the kind of life, the kind of bond, she’d had with Harrison. She would never trust him the way she had trusted Harrison.

Harrison was supposed to be the one who hadn’t cheated!

She struck the bed rail with her fist, furious with herself for being so blind. She had learned from the time Ana stole her first boyfriend that men drifted. She might even have recovered from that part of it, eventually, but Harrison had a second partner with this Fixer, too. One Joe had known about.

How could she trust Joe when he’d kept that from her?

She had to quit being so enamored and dependent. She had to harden her heart and look out for her own interests. She was a Santiago, dammit. Joe was a nice source of comfort, but she couldn’t let herself rely on him. Not on him or Harrison or any man.

Especially not the Fixer. Blind faith in a stranger was the worst thing she could have right now.

Gabe returned with a whisper of the door, Dr. Aebischer behind him. The doctor’s commanding, godlike air should have given her comfort, but she looked to him with as much apprehension as hope. She wasn’t sure she could take another shock to the system, no matter what news he gave her.

“Mrs. Santiago-Marshall.” He took her hands as he greeted her. He had an air of cool competence, which was reassuring.

“What can you tell me?” she asked.

“His progress isn’t obvious, but there are signs of improvement. He’s returned to proper wake-sleep cycles, even though his periods of wakefulness are not periods of consciousness as we typically experience it.” His accent was crisp and intellectual.

He turned to the bed and said very clearly, if sternly, “Harrison Marshall.” Then he smiled at her. “If we had him in the MRI, as we did yesterday, you would see that the pattern of his brain activation changes at the sound of his name. That’s very promising.”

Did that mean Harrison had heard her admit she was having an affair? Her heart juddered to a stall in her chest. It took everything to keep a neutral, optimistic expression on her face.

“Is that all you’re doing? Testing?” Gabe asked with a lilt of challenge in his tone.

“No, of course not. I’ve spoken extensively with your son,” he said, turning back to Mariella. “About standard treatments and more radical ones. There are some experimental drugs that have been shown effective over time. Your son wanted a better understanding before I begin trials with any of them.”

“Luc is not in charge of Harrison’s treatment. You are,” Gabe said tightly, gaze locked with the doctor’s.

Mariella reached out to touch his arm. These boys and their rivalries.

“What sort of drugs?” she asked. “I mean, if they’re experimental, then I think that’s a good thing that Luc is looking into them, to understand side effects and things like that? I don’t have the education to understand those things.”

Gabe’s mouth stayed flat.

“One is completely new. Another has been tested on Parkinson’s patients. The mechanism isn’t fully understood, but they stimulate the wake centers. Four weeks of treatment is standard—”

“Four weeks?” Gabe fairly spit the word. Hadn’t he been the one to tell her these things took time? “I thought you were the best. That we could expect results, not four weeks of snake oil.”

“Gabe,” Mariella cautioned, squeezing his arm.

“Exactly my concern,” the doctor said, standing taller and speaking more sharply. “I, too, would prefer to try something else first. Not as well-known and also still experimental. It involves stimulating the brain with electrical charges. Not unlike implanting a pacemaker.”

“In his brain? With surgery? That’s—” Alarm had her shaking her head. “Surely...” She looked to Gabe. This was beyond her. Her hand closed into a fist on his sleeve. “We should definitely talk to Luc about that.”

“You think this would show results faster,” Gabe confirmed, expression tense and grim.

“I would like to run a few more tests, to ensure he’s an appropriate candidate, but yes. That is my preferred treatment option. I’ll contact you when it’s time to make a decision.”

“Thank you,” Mariella said, gaze, voice, all of her feeling hollow.

The doctor left, and she stood unmoving next to Gabe, still clutching his sleeve.

With a long inhale, like he was waking up after a long sleep himself, Gabe gave her shoulder a gentle rub. “It will be okay, Tía. You’ll see.”

She shook her head. “It’s too much. I can’t even take in...”

“We want him back, right?”

“I want to shake him awake with my bare hands!” She had so many questions, but the only one she could reveal in front of Gabe was, “I want to know who the Fixer is.”

“Don’t obsess about the Fixer. I told you, that’s not important now.”

“It is!” There were too many things she didn’t know, so few people she could trust. “The Fixer could be responsible for this.” She waved at Harrison’s still form.

She looked up at her beloved nephew, catching that flicker of something in the backs of his eyes before he drew her close as though she was some fragile thing that needed shelter, not a woman taking control of her life after a long absence from the driver’s seat.

“I refuse to believe that. Not when the money benefits the family,” he said. “Clearly the Fixer is working in the Marshalls’ best interest.”

“You’re being naive. How can you be so sure he—or she—is not a threat? Whether it’s an audit of those unreported funds, or outright criminal behavior, or simply the fact that Harrison didn’t trust me, that’s all damage.”

“You have enough on your plate. Concentrate on keeping the business running until Harrison wakes. Then we’ll worry about the Fixer.”

She shook her head, pushing away. “No. I have to find him now. I have to destroy the Fixer before he destroys us.”

* * *

Traffic was heavy on the way back to Casa Cat, leaving them trapped in the limo with their thoughts. Mariella seemed lost in her plans to uncover and obliterate the Fixer while Gabe struggled with whether to tell her the truth—that he was the Fixer and had every intention of protecting the family’s interests until Harrison came to.

Which included sidelining Joe, if necessary.

Her bleakness was to be expected, he supposed, along with her need for comfort. He was as worried as anyone, and that talk about implanting something in Harrison’s brain wasn’t any more palatable to him than it was to her.

But he didn’t like the way she was turning to her husband’s best friend. The fact that Joe was moving in when Harrison was so vulnerable put him at the top on Gabe’s watch list. Joe had always been part of the inner circle, but now Gabe thought some distance would be a shrewd move. His Fixer wheels began turning at high speed, wondering what sorts of skeletons Joe had in his closet.

Whatever was going on between Joe and Mariella had to stop.

His atavistic thoughts must have shown on his face. Mariella said, “What’s wrong?”

“Thinking about Harrison’s treatment,” he prevaricated, smoothing his expression. “When Dr. Aebischer said radical, I didn’t think it would be that drastic.”

She made a noise of agreement, reaching to squeeze his hand. “I know. And you’re so good to me, offering comfort and supporting me when Harrison is the only father you’ve ever known. You must be very troubled yourself.”

If he let himself think about it too deeply, yes, he was. Harrison was his confidant and mentor, the man who had taught him how to be a man. Harrison had set an example of ruthlessness covered in velvet, success at any price and an ability to pay the cost. Where Harrison’s own sons had refused to be molded into their father’s image, Gabe had emulated him intentionally. He had always wanted to be Harrison 2.0. The advanced version for a new generation.

Maybe Harrison had been flattered by Gabe’s boyhood hero worship, but he’d also seen Gabe’s potential and encouraged him. When it came to the money machine of fixing, he had pulled Gabe into it. Not Luc or Rafe. This was their enterprise. Their secret. These days it was Gabe’s personal success story, the one that Harrison condoned but didn’t run or even ask many questions about.

Gabe had taken that as a sign of confidence in him. Certainly there was deep satisfaction in Harrison’s nod of approval when the bank statements climbed.

So, yes, he was deeply disturbed if he let himself consider Harrison might not recover, but he had learned as a child to sublimate his deepest, most anguished feelings. That’s why he was so good at fixing.

He wished he could sublimate the guilt over keeping that side of himself from Mariella. Because, where Harrison was his surrogate father, Mariella was the nurturing maternal figure who had mended the hole in his heart that Ana had torn open. Mariella treated him as her own flesh and blood, sometimes even chose his side over that of her own children. That sort of acceptance meant everything.

He felt such a tug of divided loyalty! Yes, Harrison had taken women on the side over the years, but they were very much out of the spotlight. He understood how to be discreet. For Mariella to take up with Joe, of all people... Harrison would expect Gabe to put the brakes on that.

To fix it.

Which was why he had hesitated to reveal himself to Mariella. He wouldn’t be able to do his job if he told her who he was. He hated to see her worry, but he had to protect both her and Harrison—from each other, it would seem, and from himself.

Mariella would be appalled by some of the actions Gabe had taken as the Fixer. The hand that clasped hers wasn’t visibly stained, but he knew it was dirty. Even Harrison didn’t know how far he was going with his side jobs these days. It had always been a slippery slope, one Gabe had descended because it was so easy. He got away with everything he did. All the while, the dollars climbed like points on a scoreboard, quietly proving to himself and Harrison that he was the most valuable player in the Marshall family.

But he knew the difference between persuasion and blackmail, between a gift and a bribe. Sometimes there were parties on the other side of his fixes who were less than enamored by his methods and results. Harrison took a don’t ask, don’t tell attitude about it, but Mariella would feel differently.

Keeping her ignorant was best for all of them.

The car turned up the driveway to Casa Cat.

His condo in the city had never been home the way this place was. What would his life look like if not for his life here, he reflected briefly?

The permanence of Casa Cat had grounded him, which was ironic considering the grandeur of the home itself. It sat upon a tall knoll, giving it stunning 360-degree views of the mountains, city and ocean. When he was ten, he had written a book report on Greek gods, identifying with the mortals who visited Mount Olympus.

He valued the permanent place he’d been granted here. He had vowed long ago never to be cast from this place again.

“Problem?” Mariella asked as she noted he was lagging behind, staring off to the glitter of the horizon against an intense blue sky.

“Wondering where I would be if you hadn’t let me live here,” he admitted, moving to join her on the wide steps leading to the front doors.

“Best decision we ever made,” she assured him with a kiss on his cheek. Then she rubbed her lipstick from his skin with her thumb.

It was such a motherly thing to do, regressing him to the child he’d been, he smirked, holding still to allow it. And he felt a fresh kick of guilt for keeping her in the dark. He hated that tension around her eyes. Letting her worry, when he could ease her stress, rather than contribute to it, seemed cruel.

He felt ungrateful.

“Tía—” he began as he held the door for her, seesawing with indecision.

“Where have you two been off to so early?” Ana was coming down the interior stairs wearing a peignoir of ice blue, breasts nearly falling out the V of lace. She struck a pose halfway down, as she liked to do, as though making an entrance to a ball, even though her hair was only finger combed and last night’s makeup had left smudges under her eyes.

Gabe bit back a curse of impatience. Her presence in this house was a ticking bomb. Always had been. It wasn’t just the sense that her true reason for being here—whatever that might be—would explode at the most unexpected and inopportune moment. He had the old, niggling sensation from his childhood that when she did leave, she would try to drag him with her.

“It’s noon,” Mariella pointed out coldly. “We went to visit Harrison. And that,” she gestured to the La Perla negligee that clung to her sister’s body, “is mine.”

“Harrison?” Ana queried with false innocence, causing the temperature in the air-conditioned home to drop to subzero. “Or this?” She plucked at the lace on the lapel of her silk wrap, leaning on the rail to taunt, “Sisters share everything. Don’t they?”

The tension condensed into an icy fog so tangible, Gabe could taste it. A dim memory came to him of another fight he’d overheard, years ago, when Mariella had been pushing for him to stay here.

I know why you want him. Does Harrison know you’re still carrying a torch?

That has nothing to do with it.

You’re off the mark, anyway. Whatever you think you see in my son, whoever, it’s not there.

I’m surprised you have any idea, one way or another, Mariella had countered bitterly.

Elana had come along, interrupting Gabe’s eavesdropping. He hadn’t completely understood what he was hearing anyway, aside from being certain they were talking about him. Now the old, jagged pieces fell into a picture he saw more clearly. It made his heart pound. Hard.

Had they fought over a man back then? His father?

Gabe shifted his gaze between them. Mariella looked ready to spit nails. Ana flicked her hair behind her shoulder and cocked her hip.

“I’ve shared my son with you all this time. Surely you can lend me a nightgown.”

Gabe waited for Mariella to tell Ana to hit the road. She didn’t. Because if Mariella had a fault, it was weakness for family, even the ones who didn’t deserve her generosity.

Mariella’s gaze lowered, as if she felt guilty for taking him in. Perhaps it had cost his mother to lose him, but he didn’t care. It was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

“We should finish our conversation,” Gabe said to Mariella.

They weren’t in the middle of anything, but she got the message that it was an excuse to walk away. She nodded jerkily. “Let’s take it into my office.”

“Wait. We have a problem,” Ana said, coming down a few more steps. “Reporters have been calling me. They want me to comment on the rumor the family is falling apart. That we’re broke. Is that true?”

We?

Gabe narrowed his eyes, skeptical. Ana was fishing, he was sure of it. He was tempted to tell her it was true, in hopes she would leave, but Mariella beat him to the punch.

“None of your fucking business,” she muttered under her breath, surprising even him.

“What was that, hermana?” Ana’s voice gurgled with glee at getting her sister to curse. “Surely I didn’t hear your pretty mouth say such an ugly word?”

Mariella turned back with vibes of hostility crackling like lightning bolts off her rod-straight body. “The state of the Marshall coffers is no concern of yours.”

“Oh, I think it is. My son has a stake, therefore I do.”

Gabe had more than a stake, but he only growled, “Leave me out of it.” If it came to a catfight—or worse—he would take Mariella’s side, every time.