Secrets Of The A-List

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He nodded. “A few days to a week, tops.”

“You have five days. I think Vegas will be the perfect place to hold the ball. We slay two birds with one stone with the nightclub opening on Friday and the ball on Saturday. Plus, it’s not too far for our guests to fly. I’ll get the MSM team to move everything to Club Elana. The masquerade ball will be our best event ever.”

Mariella looked at her daughter, who’d been staring at her father for the last few minutes. “Elana? You have something to add?”

Elana shook her head and shrugged. “Looks like you’ve got everything covered, Mom. It’ll be great, I’m sure.”

Mariella narrowed her eyes at her daughter. “What’s on your mind, Elana? Spit it out.”

Her tone was a little harsh, she knew that. But she was done cuddling and cajoling. This family would sink if they didn’t grow bigger cojones. That included not skirting whatever delicate feelings her daughter seemed caught in.

“Well...what about the Fixer? Are we forgetting that this...person is still out there, pulling our strings?” Elana demanded.

A spike of anger and frustration threatened to upset Mariella again as her gaze flicked back to her husband. You’ve done this, she silently screamed at Harrison. But she composed herself and turned to face her family.

“I haven’t forgotten about the Fixer. But neither am I going to waste any more time on who it is or what their intentions are. This family is my number-one priority. It’s my only priority going forward. I’m taking control of it. If the Fixer, or anyone else, has a problem with that, they know where to find me.”

She picked up the purse she didn’t remember discarding on the bed, ignored the slightly alarmed looks her children were exchanging and walked out of the hospital room.

Chapter Two (#ub73f551c-a0b1-5b36-8995-9b19c0bc3f37)

Gabe bit back a pithy curse and wondered, for the hundredth time, why he hadn’t hung up on this irritating phone call. Or even better, sent this client packing the moment she started to piss him off.

Yeah. Right. This was business. The shrill, aggravating voice was jumping on his last nerve, but beyond that was the more shocking notion that this woman was engaged to marry Luc. Gabe might not get along with his cousin, but still... The idea that Rachel had not only resorted to seeking the services of the Fixer to get rid of her rival but was going a step farther to advocate cold-blooded murder made his stomach turn. The timing of this phone call too made him think it was the reason she’d made her excuses not to come with the rest of the family to Whispering Oaks. Talk about stone-cold, selfish priorities. Jesus, did Luc even have the faintest idea the type of woman he was marrying?

Whatever Gabe did, he needed to handle this very carefully, or he risked this situation blowing up in his face.

Suppressing a sigh, he withdrew deeper into the darker part of the corridor. He was risking a lot taking this call here as it was. Not to mention he was missing whatever his aunt had been about to tell them.

The determined look on her face had bothered him a little. Hell, a lot of things bothered him these days. But he couldn’t afford to be out of the loop on anything, no matter how big or small. He certainly couldn’t waste time on this phone call.

“Did you hear what I said?” the voice demanded.

“You’re no longer happy with just running your competition out of town and you want to change the parameters of our agreement,” he supplied smoothly. His ability to compartmentalize was one of the reasons Harrison had relied so heavily on him. That and his complete lack of emotion when it counted.

Except he was feeling emotional right now.

He, like the rest of his family, had hightailed it here expecting to find Harrison awake and coherent, hopefully well on his way to a full recovery. Instead they’d arrived to find nothing had changed.

Gabe had been surprised by the deep ache in his chest when he’d witnessed Harrison’s unchanged condition. The fact that his security cam hack was sadly still in a state of flux meant he’d been just as stunned as the rest of the family—and just as determined now to double his efforts to find out who had been responsible for causing Harrison’s accident. The weight of carrying the Fixer’s secret had become heavier than he imagined. Not that he was going to abandon it soon.

Rachel, however...

“Need I remind you that this was what we agreed?” he drawled.

“You’re forgetting who the client is. You’re supposed to say how high when I say jump, remember?”

In your dreams.

“That’s not how this works. Perhaps you need to check with whoever recommended you as to how I do business. I’ve just told you how I’m willing to manage your problem—”

“And I’ve just told you that’s no longer enough. I need a more...permanent solution. It’s really no big deal.”

Gabe’s tone turned dark. “You’ll have to go somewhere else if you’re looking for that kind of work. If you want your competition to leave town and stay gone, I can handle that for you. That’s the only choice on the table. So what’s it going to be?”

“First of all, stop calling her my competition. She’s the goddamn housekeeper. She will never be anything but a nuisance. Second, I was told you were available for all kinds of work for a fee. If it’s the money you’re worried about, don’t be. I can pay you whatever you want—”

“It’s not the money. Trust me on that. Now, do I need to repeat myself again?” He’d dismissed Rachel as an airhead when Luc had first started dating her. His opinion hadn’t changed much except now she was turning out to be a dangerous type of airhead—one of those spoiled princesses who thought they owned the world just because a trust fund from Grandma or Grandpa drip-fed them an endless supply of money. He was willing to bet his vintage Rolex watch that she’d never done a full day’s work in her life. “Think carefully before you answer. Specifically, think of everything you have to lose if you keep pushing for this.”

“What are you implying? I thought discretion was your middle name,” she replied.

“My discretion is guaranteed. But are you sure you’re covering your tracks? This phone call, for instance. Are you sure it’s secure enough? What with everything being so traceable these days?”

She laughed, but the sound was a little forced. “Don’t worry about me, I can take care of myself.”

He waited a beat, allowed the gravity of his words to sink in. “If you say so. My position hasn’t changed, but I seriously suggest you change yours back to the original agreement.”

“Come on,” she said. Her voice had dropped down two notches from shrill to an attempt at sultriness—which she wasn’t pulling off very well. Gabe lowered the phone, sighed heavily and banged his head against the wall behind him before putting the handset back to his ear.

“...can make it worth your while...just name your price. I have friends in seriously high places. I can put you in touch with a hell of a lot of work, make sure you’re set for life. Or...” Her voiced dropped even lower. Gabe swore if he closed his eyes he could picture her twirling her hair around her finger like a goddamn cheerleader leading a football jock to his doom. Shame it did zero for his libido. He’d never had a thing for bimbos. “It doesn’t even have to be all money. I can offer you incentive in other ways, you know what I’m saying?”

He knew. And he was trying not to crawl out of his skin. But he fed her a little more rope, just to see how thoroughly she would hang herself. “And how do you propose to do that?”

“I have my ways. I have a friend who owns a private club where anonymity is a huge deal. We could meet there—”

“Let me get this straight,” Gabe cut across her, unable to believe his ears. “You’re offering me sex in return for getting rid of your rival? You think I’m so gullible that I’d risk my business for the promise of some tail?”

“Please, spare me the affront. Who do you think you are, the pope?” she returned icily.

“No, I don’t think I’m the pope, and you’re not Mother Teresa, either, since you don’t seem to give a damn about how your man will feel about you offering yourself to someone else.”

Another laugh. “I never claimed to be a saint. And leave my man to me. Are you going to man up and accept a little extra to give me what I need? Or are you going to keep hiding in the shadows?” she taunted.

Gabe wasn’t sure why his hackles rose at those last words. But he was sure this conversation had gone on long enough. “Thanks for the offer, but the answer is still a hard no.”

He heard her sharp intake of breath. “You need to think long and hard about saying no to me.” Her voice had gone from seductive to chilly. Typical entitled princess.

“Are you threatening me?” he asked, faintly amused.

“I’m making you aware that you won’t like the consequences very much if you don’t start seeing things my way.”

Amusement turned into laughter. She had balls. They were tiny, but he had to give her credit nonetheless. Not very many people thought it wise to threaten the Fixer. In fact, she was probably the first.

His breath caught as the door to Harrison’s room jerked open and his aunt walked out.

Something about the way she held herself, her chin in the air, her spine rigid with purpose, tightened his gut. Mariella was a proud, strong woman. But the woman walking down the corridor away from him had renewed purpose. He’d missed whatever discussion had happened to put that purpose there because he’d been dealing with this pesky irritant.

“I’m waiting for your final answer,” the woman snapped.

All traces of mirth evaporated. “I gave it to you five minutes ago, but I don’t mind repeating myself one last time. You want your problem dealt with? I’ll deal with it. But I’ll deal with it my way and I’ll let you know when it’s done. Don’t call me again.” He stabbed the end button with a little more force than necessary. Then he set off after Mariella.

* * *

Predinner drinks on the patio was a perfect idea. Nothing like a warm Santa Barbara evening, enjoying the sunset over the ocean while sipping cocktails to start the next phase of her plans just right. Mariella tilted her face toward the warmth, breathed in the calm air and felt a little of the tension from the past few days since the false alarm with Harrison draining from her.

There was still a mountain to climb before their position at the top was once again claimed, but this was a good start.

Or it would’ve been if Rafe hadn’t been running late. Again.

She checked her watch. Then her phone. No message.

“Don’t worry. He’ll be here,” Gabe reassured her from his seat next to her.

She sighed. “He was never the best timekeeper in the world, that boy.”

“I’m guessing the nature of his work doesn’t always lend itself to precise timekeeping, Mom,” Luc sniggered.

She pursed her lips and glared at her son. He merely rolled his shoulders, sat back on the overstuffed lounger chair and crossed his legs. A moment later, he tensed slightly, his jaw flexing.

Mariella’s eyes narrowed as she watched him do his best not to look at the approaching housekeeper. God, she hoped this wasn’t yet another problem with her family. She knew Rachel, her son’s new fiancée, could be a bit of a handful, but surely things weren’t still tense from Elana’s wedding, were they? She hadn’t missed Rachel all but dragging her son out following the garter-removing incident. To be honest, she was a little relieved her future daughter-in-law had made her excuses for tonight in order to make a dinner date with her own mother. Mariella knew she would have to get involved with their wedding plans at some point, but for now she was content to let Rachel and her mother get on with it. She had enough on her plate.

She sighed under breath as she watched Luc. She could really do with not having to put out another fire, albeit an insignificant one. But then that was the thing about fires...they were insignificant right up until they blew up in your face.

Take her sister, for instance.

As if conjured up from the darkest part of her imagination, Ana stepped out onto the patio. The sleeveless white pantsuit she wore seductively followed the lines of her perfect body, right down the feet currently adorned by fuchsia-colored heeled Ferragamo slippers that looked suspiciously familiar.

Tension Mariella had thought had dissipated ramped up high again. The last thing she wanted to do right now was to rip into her sister for raiding her wardrobe yet again, but seriously, this was getting really old.

“Gabriel, mi hijo, you’re looking so handsome, as usual.” Ana sat down next to Gabe and smiled fondly at her son, completely disregarding the rest of the family.

Mariella surreptitiously massaged her temple and the tension headache threatening to drill right through to her brain stem. Elana, who’d remained just as sullen as she’d been since the hospital, barely spared her aunt a glance. Luc grew tenser as Vanessa set down the tray of cocktails the chef had prepared then began handing them out. Mariella noticed that she set Luc’s vodka tonic down on the table in front of him rather than handing it to him like she did with everyone else.

Dios mío...

“Where’s my drink?” Ana demanded sharply.

Vanessa stiffened.

Mariella glared at her sister. “She wasn’t told you would be joining us, because you didn’t think to inform us of your plans.”

“I need to send a memo to be included in predinner drinks? Am I not a member of this family?” Ana snapped.

Mariella gritted her teeth and hung onto her last nerve. “Since you spent all morning sunbathing and the whole afternoon sleeping, we thought you would be continuing your very leisurely regime. In bed.”

Ana raised an eyebrow. “Are you having the staff spy on me now, Mariella?”

“I wasn’t aware your movements in my house were a state secret.”

Ana locked gazes with her for minute, then flipped her perfectly curled hair over her bare shoulders. “Not to worry, my beauty sleep is all topped up. I’m good to go. So—” she turned to a hovering Vanessa “—I’ll have a caipirinha with an extra twist of lime. And tell the chef not to use overripe limes, would you? The ones she made me earlier all tasted off.”

Mariella really didn’t need to know that her sister had spent most of the day drinking. It only meant that navigating any conversation with her now would be like walking a minefield.