Secrets Of The A-List

This was a disaster. What was she going to do?

* * *

Mariella woke with a start, knowing immediately that this was not her room. And definitely not her bed. The sheets slipped, warm and cozy, against her naked flesh as she shifted to put a tiny bit of distance between her and the furnace of a man beside her. She didn’t need to turn her head to know Joe slept beside her. His purring snores were unfamiliar and yet utterly wonderful.

For heaven’s sake. What was the matter with her? She shouldn’t think that way. She’d just had sex with a man who wasn’t her husband. Again. And it had been better than the first time. They were learning more about each other’s bodies. Such as how he liked it when she played with his nipples. Harrison hated her to go anywhere near them, while Joe was thrilled when she gave his a tentative tweak.

But no matter how exciting the sex, she shouldn’t have come to Joe last night. No matter what Harrison had done to her, sleeping with her comatose husband’s best friend on the eve of her daughter’s wedding was not done. And yet, why not? Why shouldn’t she approach her sex life like her husband did his? She could leave responsibility and fear of consequences at the door and throw herself into passion. Why should she bow to guilt? In all the times that Harrison fucked that disgusting French tart of his, had he wrestled with his conscience once?

Thirty-two years of marriage, and what did she really know about the man? How many things had he lied to her about? Certainly this affair was the merest tip of the iceberg. The more she thought about it, the more she knew his French mistress couldn’t be the first. Just how many had there been? Harrison’s appetite for sex had always been keen. But as the years went by and their children had been born, she’d believed that they’d settled into a comfortable level of intimacy. After all, they weren’t randy newlyweds who couldn’t keep their hands off each other. They were busy people coping with the intense pressure of running a successful multibillion-dollar enterprise. That sort of stress certainly took the fun out of getting naked and chasing each other around the bedroom.

Had she been fooling herself?

If she was honest with herself, the signs had been there all along. The mysterious phone calls, lengthy business trips, the smell of other women on his clothes. She’d thrown herself into working at the company to prevent herself from noticing that her marriage wasn’t as fulfilling as it once was. And yet, she hadn’t wanted to confront Harrison. What good would that have done? Confirmation of his affairs would have left her with a decision to make—stay, and continue to enjoy the benefits of being Harrison’s wife with all the power and prestige that position offered, or leave and make her way on her own.

And yet, wasn’t that exactly what had become of her? Whether Harrison woke from his coma or not, she couldn’t unring the bell. She was no longer the wife who could turn a blind eye to her husband’s questionable activities. She’d become the wife who engaged in her own questionable activities.

Oh, what she’d been missing. A sensual smile curved her lips as Mariella ran her fingertips over her warm skin, remembering Joe’s passionate touch, the way his lips had left tingles in their wake as he’d kissed and caressed every inch of her body.

Being with Joe was so easy. Too easy. He could swiftly become a habit she wouldn’t want to break.

“Good morning.” His deep voice rumbled through her. The skin at the corners of his eyes crinkled as he perused her disheveled appearance. “You look gorgeous in the morning.”

At his compliment, Mariella fought a ridiculous urge to simper like some idiot girl. He seemed to prefer her mussed and had spent a great deal of time the previous night breaking down her guards, unraveling her composure and enjoying her unrestrained passion.

Had Harrison ever cared about her pleasure? She frowned as she struggled to recall. Maybe in the early days of their marriage. Had things cooled because of his affairs, or was it the other way around?

But it was one thing to have an affair and another to father a child with another woman. Mariella recalled the voice on the phone. The French-accented gold digger who claimed to be pregnant with Harrison’s child. Was it possible? Could he have gotten this woman pregnant and then abandoned her?

With each new revelation about Harrison, Mariella realized she had no idea whom she’d married.

“I’m glad you decided to spend the night,” Joe said.

“Yes, well...”

His smile, so filled with delight and so dear, tore at her heart. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep. Staying the entire night was just not done. She’d meant to put on her clothes and go. It was bad enough that she’d come to his room on the eve of her daughter’s wedding.

The wedding!

Mariella realized the room was quite bright. What time was it? She glanced at clock on the nightstand and blinked in shock at the numbers glowing at her. It’s impossible that so much of the morning could’ve gotten away from her. She should’ve been at Elana’s room a half hour ago.

“It’s so late,” she exclaimed, staring at Joe’s face with regret mingled with dismay. “I have to go.”

Flooded with embarrassment and confusion, she snatched the sheet to her chest and spied her clothes strewn all over the floor of his suite. So far away. What foolishness. She wasn’t a silly virgin unaccustomed to a lover’s lust-filled gaze. She’d made love to the man twice. He’d slid his hands and mouth over every inch of her. Why was she now so reluctant to let him see her naked body?

There was nothing else to do. She simply had to get dressed and go find her daughter. Elana had been acting odd for weeks. This wedding was too important to let anything go wrong.

* * *

Thom stands at the foot of Harrison Marshall’s bed. The once powerful, charismatic tycoon lies as still as death, trapped in his coma. Around the patriarch’s bed cluster his children and wife. Each of them stares at the man in the bed, their faces inconsolable masks of sadness and regret.

Beside him, Elana weeps softly. Thom hasn’t ever seen his fiancée so sad. He yearns to put his arm around her and offer comfort, but Rafe occupies her other side and she leans her head on her brother’s shoulder. For a second Thom envies their closeness. What would it be like to have siblings to lean on? To share secrets with and be able to count on?

Thom would give anything to have a brother to share the burden of the family business. To spread the load of his parents’ expectations. Expectations that are leading him to marry Elana to look “normal.” Although Thom isn’t sure what normal is anymore.

Harrison opens his eyes.

“You’ve lied to everyone.” Harrison’s accusation echoes ominously in the silent room.

“I’ve...what?” Thom recoils from the icy fury in the man’s eyes and stumbles back several shocked steps. “No.” Tearing his gaze away, he glances from Elana to Rafe to Mariella and back to Elana. At Harrison’s words, their heads swiveled in his direction. Searing, unblinking gazes fix on him. “No.” He’s moaning now. “I haven’t lied about anything. I swear.”

Harrison sits up in a fluid motion. Back stiff, eyes cold fire, his arm is extended, finger pointing straight at Thom. “You lie about the reasons you’re marrying my daughter.”

“I... I...haven’t. I’m not. I swear.” But the last word comes out weakly. He’s hidden the truth for so long, it’s become second nature to be who everyone wants him to be.

Abruptly Luc points a finger at Thom. His voice is the acid hiss of hatred. “Liar.”

“Liar.” Rafe whispers the word. His eyes brim with disappointment.

Mariella scowls. “Liar.”

“Why did you lie?” Tears fill Elana’s eyes.

Thom stumbles back, away from her sadness. He bursts through a door. Blinded by the brightness beyond, it takes a couple of seconds for him to realize where he is. Above his head is a flower-festooned arbor. The sweet scent of so many blossoms fills his nostrils, making his head spin. A minister’s deep voice intones the beginning of a wedding ceremony.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today...”

Thom’s fingers clench into fists as he turns his head and spies Elana. She’s gorgeous in her white wedding dress, her face obscured by a heavy lace veil.

As the minister drones on, Thom begins to calm down. He’s doing the right thing for everyone—his parents, Elana, her parents. He needs to focus on making Elana happy. He can do that. They’ve been friends forever. He wants the best for her.

Calmer now, at the minister’s directions, Thom turns to face Elana. It’s nearly time for their vows. He will promise to be true to her. And he will keep that vow. Till death parts them.

“If there is anyone who can show just cause that these two should not be joined together in holy matrimony, let him speak now...

Thom starts to reach for Elana’s hands, but she steps back and snatches at the hem of her veil, lifting it. Suddenly Thom isn’t looking into Elana’s beautiful face, but Gabe’s. The Fixer. And he is laughing.

“Surprise.” Gabe sneers. “Did you really think I’d let you marry Elana? You are lying about who you are. It’s all your fault.”

“What’s my fault?”

“That.” Gabe gestures toward the chairs where the wedding guests sit.

Five hundred guests stare at him in cold accusation. At first he doesn’t understand why, and then he sees the carnage. The entire Marshall family is slumped to the ground like marionettes with their strings cut. They lie together in a broken pile. Crimson droplets are splattered over them like hundreds of rose petals, each one glistening wetly as if drenched in tears.

Who could have done this and why?

“You did this,” Gabe says as if reading Thom’s mind. “This is all because you told.”