Secrets Of The A-List

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“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.