Книга - Secrets Of The A-List

Secrets Of The A-List
Donna Hill


Most. Revealing. Coma. Ever.With Harrison still out of commission in a coma, his wife, Mariella, is discovering there are oh so many things she never knew about the man she married. To distract herself, she focuses on Elana’s wedding to Thom, which is still on—for now. But is either of them in it for the right reasons? If only it were just their eyes that were wandering. Just who can they turn to – when there’s betrayal threatening the heart of the family?Super Rich. Super Sexy. Super Addictive.Secrets of the A-List – read all 12 episodes!







Most. Revealing. Coma. Ever.

With Harrison still out of commission in a coma, his wife, Mariella, is discovering there are oh so many things she never knew about the man she married. To distract herself, she focuses on Elana’s wedding to Thom, which is still on—for now. But is either of them in it for the right reasons? If only it were just their eyes that were wandering. Just who can they turn to—when there’s betrayal threatening the heart of the family?

Super Rich. Super Sexy. Super Addictive.

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


Secrets of the A-List (Episode 3 of 12)

Donna Hill






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Praise for Donna Hill (#u7ba6ec2f-964b-5c9d-8f72-0f6149003456)

“This intelligent and heartwarming love story suits the season...steamy.”

—RT Book Reviews on For You I Will


About the Author (#u7ba6ec2f-964b-5c9d-8f72-0f6149003456)

DONNA HILL published her first novel in 1990. She now has more than eighty titles in print. Three of her novels have been adapted for television. She has received numerous awards and recognition for her wide body of work. In her other life, Donna is an assistant professor of English at Medgar Evers College in Brooklyn, New York, and an adjunct professor at Baruch College and Essex County College. She has an MFA in creative writing from Goddard College. Donna lives in Brooklyn with her family. Visit her website at Donnahill.wordpress.com (https://Donnahill.wordpress.com).


Contents

Cover (#u20132415-78dd-5024-bb6c-67ba4519be57)

Back Cover Text (#u078d0d26-8a28-5f64-87f5-e984975e6ceb)

Title Page (#ub2744954-f454-5f09-b5a9-174adfa9a022)

Praise (#ue97567f2-9e45-515f-8187-1101d5b7748c)

About the Author (#u1efe1c76-1adc-5763-9a97-72a16c60acd6)

Episode Three (#u592ae5d0-53f7-5223-9e9e-0b571b855150)

Chapter One (#ufdd19233-0bb0-5410-a45b-48b4afddf7e3)

Chapter Two (#u54667b8b-5041-513d-971f-eeda51557fcf)

Chapter Three (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


Episode Three (#u7ba6ec2f-964b-5c9d-8f72-0f6149003456)

Family throwdown! Mariella Santiago-Marshall has just announced that she suspects one of her own children to be the Fixer. With Harrison in a coma, Luc and Rafe constantly taking swings at each other in public, and Elana wanting to postpone her wedding... Mariella needs to regain control! And this truth or dare challenge is the perfect start. So—who is going to ’fess up?


Chapter One (#u7ba6ec2f-964b-5c9d-8f72-0f6149003456)

“You think one of us is the Fixer?” Luc asked his mother. “Yeah, right.”

“It has to be one of you chosen ones,” Elana shouted from the doorway of Harrison’s hospital room and marched out into the hallway, with the family right behind her. Her three-inch red-soled heels popped like gunfire against the winter-white marble floors. Now that she had everyone’s full attention, she pranced in front of her brothers, tossing her hair along with her accusations. “We all know I can’t be trusted to do anything.” She flashed an accusatory look at her mother, which Mariella promptly ignored.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Rafe sputtered, ignoring his sister’s typical outburst. “How could it be one of us?”

“Ridiculous! Is that what you call some behind-the-scenes person manipulating our fucking lives—ridiculous? That’s the best response you can come up with, little brother?” Luc snarked.

Rafe swung his body toward Luc and got within inches from his face. “Are you the Fixer, Luc? I wouldn’t put it past you.”

“Fuck you.”

Mariella stepped between her warring sons. She pressed her hand against Rafe’s chest and then Luc’s. “Stop! You are brothers. Act like it.”

Not put off by his mother’s intervention, and still ticked off from his fight with Rafe, Luc emitted an incredulous chuckle. “Obviously, Dad’s accident has taken its toll on you, if you think for a moment the Fixer could possibly be me. I barely have enough hours in the day to manage my practice without looking for ways to screw over my own family!”

“You could have fooled me,” Elana piped in, wanting to keep stirring the pot of discontent. “You’ve always been the one who thinks he knows best about everything and everyone. Maybe you fix lives like you do body parts. You never had a problem telling me what to do and what you think about what I do.”

“Somebody has to,” Luc threw back.

Elana’s dark hair showered her bare shoulders as she tossed her head back and laughed. “Typical. You always have to be right.”

“Enough!”

All eyes turned toward the command and seemed to notice Joe for the first time.

“For Christ’s sake,” he hissed. He gestured angrily to the room behind them, glared from one to the next and stepped in between the warring factions. “We’re in a hospital, and I don’t care how private and secret it is—people have ears. Not to mention that your father is just a few feet away.”

Mariella blinked back her surprise. She’d never heard Joe raise his voice higher than a burst of laughter, nor had she ever seen that steely look in his eyes.

“For your mother’s sake,” he added with more calm, and settled his focus on Mariella.

Mariella’s tanned cheeks flushed. She pulled her imported Italian lace shawl tighter around her narrow shoulders.

“At least let’s get out of the hallway and go into the reception room for privacy,” Joe suggested.

* * *

The hot air slowly seeped from the room as the family split off to their respective corners, duly chastised.

Joe moved closer to Mariella, placed a firm hand of comfort on her shoulder and gave it a slight squeeze. She looked up into Joe’s eyes for reassurance. He gave her a short nod.

Mariella drew in a deep breath, regained her composure and her position as the de facto head of the family. Whatever misgivings she might have about her husband—and she had many—she would not let her family fall apart by allowing them to tear one another to pieces. No matter what their differences, they were family first. It was her responsibility now to keep them together and focused. And it was her fault for suggesting one of them was the Fixer in the first place.

“Joe’s right,” Mariella said. She pinned each of her children with her infamous mother glare. One by one their combative postures eased. They knew that when their mother shot them that look she was a breath away from one of her epic tirades, and no one would be spared. “This is not the time or the place. As much as I want to put my faith in the discretion of the staff here, we cannot risk them overhearing anything that shows any type of weakness or fracture in our family.” She slightly raised her chin. “Everyone has a price,” she added, knowing that her family understood exactly what she meant. “So we will smile, keep our voices down and act like we love each other. That means all of you.”

Elana flopped down on one of the overstuffed white leather side chairs that sat beneath a large expressionist abstract by Jackson Pollock. She crossed her long bare legs and dropped her Chanel purse next to her.

Luc turned toward the panoramic window that overlooked the lush grounds of Whispering Oaks. The one-way windows allowed one to see out, but every space inside the facility was shielded from prying eyes. He slung his hands into the pockets of his slacks and rocked his chiseled jaw.

Gabe, quiet as ever, stood off to the side, watching.

Rafe’s eyes settled on Joe’s hand that still rested on his mother’s shoulder. Unlike his self-absorbed sister and brother, Rafe’s attention focused on his mother and Joe. Joe’s seemingly assuring touch wasn’t as innocent as it appeared, no matter how Joe tried to play it. Joe lowered his hand to his side and moved slightly away from Mariella as if pulled by invisible strings. Rafe didn’t miss that, either.

Mariella centered herself in the room. She glanced from one child to the next. “As much as I’d like to pretend that this whole nightmare with your father was some freak accident, I can’t.”

“What do you mean?” Luc interjected, turning from his spot at the window. “What else could it be?

Mariella absently ran her long fingers through her hair. Violet-colored taaffeite studs sparkled in her lobes, and a single matching stone hung from a thin platinum chain around her neck giving the impression that the rare diamond sat magically at her throat. Both had been a twentieth-anniversary gift—Harrison had had them specially made when he’d visited Tanzania, the only place in the world other than Sri Lanka where the rare gem could be found. She fingered the stone at her throat. “The more I think about it, the more we can’t pretend this is some ordinary accident. Your father is an expert driver. He always has been, and he’s raced around that highway for decades.

“And there is someone working behind the scenes—the Fixer. We don’t know who the Fixer is or what their agenda is,” she said while her free hand gestured in the air. “For all we know, it could be a move to somehow get their claws on Marshall International, starting with getting...rid of your father.”

Luc’s eyes narrowed. Elana sat up straighter, and Rafe’s lean frame tensed.

“Why would this person want to hurt Dad?” Luc asked.

“You really believe that, Mom?” Rafe asked. “But the Fixer set up that fake interview to show Dad was recovering.”

Mariella shook her head. “I don’t know, but there’s something else. There’s an account that has nothing to do with the business.” The room grew deathly silent. She’d debated whether or not to tell her children what she’d accidentally come across. But they needed to know.

Gabe spoke up for the first time. “Account?”

Mariella smiled at her surrogate son. As much as she tried to downplay it, Rafe was her favorite, but her nephew had a special place in her heart. Gabe’s devotion to Harrison made his own flesh and blood pale in comparison. She extended her hand to him.

Gabe walked toward his aunt and took her hand, lifted it to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “Tía, what account?”

Joe cleared his throat. “I think I should explain.”

Luc folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the wall. “Please do.”

“After the accident your mother found a bank statement in your dad’s jacket. It was from a bank in the Cayman Islands.”

Luc was incredulous. “That’s...offshore banking, a way to hide money. Dirty money.”

“I wasn’t sure what it was, so I showed it to Joe,” Mariella cut in. “I felt that with Joe being Harrison’s business partner, he might know what it all means.”

“The statement is several months old,” Joe continued. “But the account is clearly active. There’s more than a hundred million dollars in it,” he added. “That’s why I decided to tell you about the Fixer.”

Elana jumped up from her seat. Her purse clattered to the floor. “Wait a minute. A hundred million?”

“A hundred million dollars?” Rafe echoed in disbelief. “Would this offshore account and his business with the Fixer have anything to do with his accident?”

“Perhaps. That’s what I intend to find out,” Joe continued. “But I can tell you all that it won’t be easy. Those kinds of accounts are set up to stop exactly what I’m trying to do—unlock it. And it’s clear that Harrison went to great lengths to keep it a secret.”

“And you didn’t know anything about this either, Gabe?” Luc asked, zeroing in on his cousin, whom he’d always been at odds with. He never could accept that as much time that he’d spent with his father in the early days before his medical career took off, his father would turn to Gabe as the one to run much of the business. He’d listened to his father when he told Luc to go after his dreams. But never did he believe that in doing so, Gabe would be the one to rise up the ranks. Gabe had his father’s ear, his confidence, and every time Luc looked at his cousin he fumed at the decision he’d made. Sure, he was successful in his own right. He was a respected doctor, but Gabe had become the son to Harrison that Luc should have been. Gabe held the keys to the throne. Keys Luc had turned down. That was a reality that he would not ignore.

“This is the first I’m hearing of it.” Gabe draped his arm around his aunt’s shoulder. She rested against him.

“We may never know,” Mariella said with quiet resignation. She shared a knowing look with her family. The fact of the matter was the doctors were not optimistic about Harrison’s recovery. If he recovered at all, he might never be the man he was. She could not imagine the man she knew, vibrant, virile, full of vitality, a man who grabbed life by the throat, reduced to...

She didn’t want to let her mind go there, and most of all she had to keep up a good front for her family. In truth she was terrified. If the rumors were true, someone might have tried to kill her husband. At this moment she didn’t believe that Harrison had lost control of that car, no matter what she said in public. Whatever Harrison had gotten into might have put her family at risk. The thought of losing...because of Harrison—

Joe was her husband’s best friend and business partner. How much did he know that he wasn’t telling? What about Gabe—her husband’s protégé? And Luc was far too calm with the chaos swirling around him. Hmm... Rafe was brilliant—brilliant enough to be the Fixer? She clasped the shawl in her fist. She would have to let it all play out. At this point, no one was above her suspicion.

* * *

Guilt knotted in Joe’s stomach. Flashes of screaming and twisted metal snapped like synapses in his head. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the replay on TV of the yellow tape roping off the accident site and the emergency and police vehicles with their spinning lights and piercing sirens that flooded the area. But what would forever remain as his personal nightmare was seeing Harrison’s battered, bloodied, limp body airlifted from what looked like a level of hell. The press were vultures, capitalizing on pain. Harrison’s accident was all Joe’s fault. He should have never set that asshole PI on Harrison’s tail. Now the PI was unreachable. The cell phone was turned off, there was no activity at his office, and Joe had no idea how to contact him. He knew what the others didn’t—the PI had been on that highway the day of the accident, and he’d driven off and left Harrison to die. All Joe could think was the worst. He blinked the images away.

“I’m no replacement for Harrison, by any stretch of the imagination, but he trusted me,” Joe said.

“Apparently not very much,” Luc countered.

Joe took the barb in stride. “I’m sure Harrison had his reasons. He is a very complicated man. All I’m asking is that you trust me. I want to find out what really happened as much as each of you do, and I’ll protect this family and its legacy with my life.”

“Hmm, very noble,” Elana said while she absently twisted her radiant-cut red diamond engagement ring. The rare gem rivaled her mother’s, which pleased Elana to no end. Even though she had her doubts about her impending nuptials, she had no doubts about how much she loved her ring. If things went south she wondered if Thom would let her keep the ring.

“You stand to gain a lot if this whole thing goes sideways,” Luc said.

Joe visibly bristled. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Rafe kept his own counsel and watched the dynamics unfold.

“I won’t have you talking like that to Joe,” Mariella snapped. “He’s been at your father’s side for years.” She glanced at Joe and clasped his upper bicep. “If Harrison put his faith in you, so will I.”

He smiled with gratitude at Mariella. “I’ll get to the bottom of all this. I promise you.” He turned to the family. “I promise all of you.”


Chapter Two (#u7ba6ec2f-964b-5c9d-8f72-0f6149003456)

Elana didn’t particularly care for doggy style, but Jarrod loved it and she had to admit the overhead mirror—and now the latest addition, a mirrored headboard—that put their sweaty, athletic bodies on display was a real turn-on. She loved watching his beautiful face contort, his hard jaw clench and his eyes squeeze shut when she raised her perfectly firm derriere and gave back as good as she got.

She needed this—this hot, illicit sex—especially after her family’s reality-show performance at the hospital two days ago.

Jarrod looped his arm beneath her to pull her higher as he plowed into her, cupping the fullness of her breasts in his large hand. His groan rose from his toes, and Elana knew he was close. So was she.

Sex with Jarrod fueled her, validated her in a way that her mundane day-to-day life didn’t. With Jarrod, her body felt powerful. She was addicted to him. She was marrying Thom, but their sex life was nothing like this.

Jarrod’s pace quickened. The sound of wet flesh slapping together intensified.

Elana cried out, “Harder.” She reached back and grabbed his ass, digging her long pink nails into his flesh.

Jarrod grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her head back as he rode her to the finish line.

Elana witnessed their writhing reflections in the mirror as a powerful orgasm ripped through her. Her vision blurred; her body shook as if electrified. This was what she lived for, this sensation of power and bliss all mixed up together.

Jarrod pulled out and rolled onto his back, breathing hard. The dark curly hairs on his chest glistened with sweat.

Elana lifted one long leg and pointed her perfectly polished toes toward the ceiling before draping the dancer-like stem across Jarrod’s body. She twirled his chest hairs between her fingertips. She’d lost count of how many days and nights she’d spent in Jarrod’s marital bed. She probably should feel some sort of guilt. She didn’t. Sure, Thom was sweet and a nice guy, but there was no fire. It was...wholesome. The thought of only getting that kind of mundane missionary sex for the rest of her life was a nightmare. But what choice did she have short of running away? They were all pushing her down the damn aisle kicking and screaming.

Although she and Jarrod had only been together a short six months, she’d grown addicted to their trysts, the way he made her body feel. When she ultimately walked down the aisle and became Thom’s wife, maybe she would have to find a way to be with Jarrod. She didn’t think she would survive what was sure to be a lackluster marriage otherwise.

She’d met Jarrod at a fund-raising gala. His wife had hung on his arm, but as far as Elana was concerned, Jarrod Jones was the real star, and she’d made it her business to introduce herself. She made her move when she spotted Jarrod alone by the bar. She walked over to make his acquaintance.

His smile was slow and hot. His dark eyes picked up the light and quickly dipped down to enjoy the show of her bountiful cleavage barely encased in a formfitting bloodred Herve Leger gown. “Elana Marshall.”

“So you know who I am.” She rested her jewel-encrusted purse on the bar top.

He got her a drink; they talked. She knew he wanted her as much as she wanted him.

“Dance with me.”

She put her drink down, picked up her purse and let him lead her onto the crowded dance floor. They found a spot in the shadows of the ballroom near the door. Jarrod held her respectably close while the chatter and music from the band floated around them. His fingers lightly played with the exposed flesh on her back, sending electric waves of need racing through her.

“We move very well together, don’t you think?” he’d whispered in her ear.

“I’m sure this is only the beginning of us moving together,” she’d whispered back. “Am I wrong?”

“Far from it. I’m pretty sure I can prove it to you.”

She’d glanced quickly around. Her family was well on the other side of the room. “When?” she asked a bit breathless.

“Now.”

“Show me.”

He’d released his hold on her, took her by the hand and led her out of the ballroom. They casually walked passed guests milling in the corridor, sneaked into the stairwell and went up one flight.

They were barely on the deserted landing before Jarrod pulled her tightly against him and kissed her. She could have sworn rockets went off when she tasted him for the first time, a mixture of his own essence and the heat of the whiskey he’d drunk.

Jarrod pressed her up against the wall. His hands were everywhere. She’d fumbled with his zipper. He slipped the straps of her dress off her shoulders and dipped his head to feast on her tempting flesh.

She knew how crazy and dangerous this was, but she couldn’t stop herself. It was as if she’d been shot with some kind of drug. She was so wet and needy that her hands shook when she’d tried to release him from his pants. When she did and felt him in her hand for the first time, she’d gasped.

Jarrod chuckled deep in his throat. He gathered the folds of her dress and tugged it up, cupped her in his palms while Elana raised her leg to wrap around him. He dipped his tongue deep into her mouth an instant before...

A door opened below them, followed by footsteps coming their way. Jarrod didn’t seem to notice or care.

Elana looked over Jarrod’s shoulder to see the stunned expression of her brother Rafe.

“Elana! What the hell?”

Jarrod swiftly zipped up before turning around.

When Rafe saw who it was that had his sister backed up into a corner, half-undressed, he lost it. He darted up the steps, grabbed Jarrod by the shoulder and shoved him hard. “You low-life bastard.” Then he turned his outrage on his sister. “Get yourself together. Mom and Dad are ready to make their announcement and want all of us there.”

Rafe flashed a lethal look at Jarrod, who took his cue, brushed by Rafe and descended the stairs.

Elana had been more annoyed than humiliated. “Thanks, brother dear.” She pushed by him and returned to the ballroom. Of course Rafe told their mother, who went off on one of her epic tirades, but it didn’t stop Elana. Once she got a taste of what things could be like with Jarrod, there was no turning back for her.

The very next day, she found the number for the studio where he worked and called him. She apologized for her overzealous brother and indicated that they had unfinished business.

Jarrod told her that his wife had left that morning for a movie and would be out of town for at least a month, and that he felt a bout of loneliness coming on. She assured him that she had the cure for that.

When she pulled up to his house later that afternoon, it was the beginning of a ride that she had no intention of getting off. That first time with Jarrod was beyond anything she’d ever experienced in her life. She was totally addicted and found all kinds of ways to be with him. She became expert in concocting one lie after another to be with Jarrod, from shopping trips to doctor’s appointments—whatever it took.

And then Thom asked her to marry him, and the secret world that she’d built with Jarrod came crashing down. At least if he’d proposed in private she could have gently told him no. But instead he did it in front of her entire family, and of course they were beyond ecstatic.

So here she was, on the cusp of marrying a man who would be perfect for someone else, but for her the lights simply didn’t come on. She did care, she cared deeply about Thom, about their longtime friendship. But love...passion...

Elana flipped onto her side, laced her arm across Jarrod’s chest and snuggled against him.

“Any luck in postponing the wedding?” Jarrod asked, his voice thick and dreamy.





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