by Joss Wood
“This is the celebration of Thom and Elana’s ‘love.’” Lane used air quotes, knowing as well as she did that Elana wasn’t in love with Thom. Not yet, at least. “It’s a little on the nose, but a red gown will work well. Besides, it’s such a good color on your skin tone.”
Lane searched through the section of floor-length red gowns. He selected a beaded chiffon Elie Saab gown in lipstick red.
“This is the one. It’s perfect.” He held up the cap-sleeved dress with a broad smile that framed his blindingly white teeth, then handed it to her. “It says, ‘I’m the mother of the bride-to-be, but I’m still fierce, bitch. Don’t get it twisted.’”
Mariella shook her head, laughing as she removed her robe and slipped into the dress. She regarded herself in the mirror.
“It is perfect.” The lush, vibrant red complemented her coloring. The beaded back and open overlay in the front were stunning, and the slit showed just enough leg.
Arms crossed, Lane looked pleased with himself for saving the day. “And remember, you’re a Marshall and a Santiago, dammit. Marshalls never give up, and Santiagos damn sure don’t give in.”
Mariella nodded. It was a motto she’d tried to instill in her children. And it was exactly what she needed to hear at the moment.
“Thank you for being my lifeline. As always.” She kissed Lane on both cheeks. “I wish my Elana was as sensible and levelheaded as you.”
“Baby girl is just going through a phase.” Lane returned to the dressing table to pack the remainder of his styling tools and products. “The sooner she marries the dashing Thom Scott, the sooner she’ll forget about that two-timing piece of shit Jarrod Jones.”
“Let us hope.” An uneasiness settled over her again. Mariella was sure Elana was still seeing Jarrod. She only hoped her daughter would have the good sense and common decency to end the affair before the wedding.
There was a knock at her bedroom door.
“Joe, I didn’t expect to see you here.” Mariella grinned, offering her cheek to Joe Reynolds, their family’s longtime friend and her husband’s business partner. “Don’t you look dapper.”
He was incredibly handsome in a black Tom Ford tuxedo with black satin lapels and a pair of gleaming black patent leather shoes. His citrus cologne was enticing.
“I was hoping to escort you to the party.”
“That would be lovely.” A surprising warmth filled Mariella’s cheeks. “Thank you, Joe.”
“Hate to break into this...” Lane gestured between them, not finishing his statement or bothering to hide his sneer at Joe. He turned his attention to Mariella. “But your nephew Gabe is calling.”
“Must be about the party.” Mariella took the phone, answering it. Gabe was at El Acantilado, their flagship restaurant, to ensure that her instructions for the party had been carried out, down to the last detail. “Gabe, is everything all right?”
“Everything looks magnificent, Tía. You will be very pleased.” She could hear the grin in Gabe’s voice. “I just wanted to assure you of that, so you won’t worry. I want you to enjoy yourself tonight as a guest. Leave everything to Teresa and me.”
“Thank you, querido.” Mariella smiled. Her nephew was more thoughtful than any of her children. “And the magnums of Moët & Chandon Dom Pérignon White Gold I ordered for the toast, did they arrive?”
They were serving the finest wines from their family’s label. However, such a special occasion demanded her favorite French champagnes.
“They arrived just this morning.”
“Very good.” The arrival of the champagne for the toast was the last unfinished detail. Now maybe she could relax and embrace her role as the mother of the bride-to-be.
“Tell Gabe to be sure there’s enough Spirit of Hven Seven Stars on hand to get me through the night,” Joe called out good-naturedly, referring to the Nordic brand of single-malt whisky he favored.
“Is that Joe?” Gabe’s voice was tight.
“Yes.” She smiled at Joe. “He’s kindly offered to escort me to the party this evening.”
“Oh, I see.” The line was silent for a moment. “That was actually the other reason I called. I thought I could escort you into the party when you’re announced. But it seems Joe has it covered.”
“Thank you, Gabe. You’re always so considerate.”
Gabe quickly excused himself to care for further details of the party.
Mariella frowned, still staring at the phone as she set it on the table.
“What is it?” Joe shoved his hands in his pockets.
She shrugged. “He seemed so disappointed not to be the one to escort me tonight. I feel so bad for Gabe. Even after all these years, he’s still that little ten-year-old boy whose mother abandoned him. I heard it in his voice just now.” She met his gaze. “I hate to ask this, Joe, but would you mind terribly if I reneged on our agreement? It would mean so much to Gabe.”
“Of course not. We wouldn’t want to disappoint Gabe, would we?” Despite Joe’s easy acceptance of her request, his disappointment was evident in his blue eyes and in the hint of sarcasm in his tone.
“Thank you for understanding.” She smiled, then answered another knock at the door. It was their housekeeper, Vanessa.
“I thought, perhaps, you and your guests might care for some refreshments, Mrs. Santiago-Marshall.” Her tray held three glasses, several liquors and a pitcher filled with water and slices of lemon, lime, pineapple and strawberries.
“How thoughtful, Vanessa. The night hasn’t even begun, and already I could use a stiff drink.” Mariella kneaded the knot forming in her shoulder. “Please, leave it on the table there.”
Vanessa put down the tray, then stared at her for a moment before lowering her gaze. “You look so beautiful. Like an angel.”
“Thank you, Vanessa.” Some of the tension in Mariella’s shoulders eased as she smoothed down the chiffon skirt and smiled. “Could you do me one more favor?”
“Yes, Mrs. Santiago-Marshall.”
“I needn’t tell you how disorganized Elana can be. I will not stand for her arriving late to her own party. Please see to it that she’ll be ready on time. We’re leaving in little more than an hour.”
Vanessa nodded, inexplicable sadness in her dark eyes as she turned to leave.
“Mariella, there’s another matter we need to discuss.” Joe glanced over at Lane, still packing up his things, and furrowed his brows. “But we can talk about it later.”
Anxious and intrigued about whatever it was Joe wanted to discuss, Mariella knitted her brows, too. She turned to Lane. “You wouldn’t mind excusing us for a moment, would you, Lane?”
“I was just leaving.” Lane hoisted his bag on his shoulder. He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “See you at the party tonight. Remember, walk in there with a radiant smile and remind them what a boss you are.”
Mariella promised she would, then closed the door behind Lane. She turned to face Joe again, her voice lowered. “What’s going on?”
Joe sighed. “I’m running into dead ends trying to find out who the Fixer is. Any luck with the bank account?”
“No. I tried, but it seems that Harrison hasn’t given anyone else access to that account.”
“Not even me, apparently,” he added bitterly.
“What are we going to do about this?”
The Fixer’s dirty deeds that earned those large sums of money listed on the bank statement could come back to haunt them, putting Marshall International in legal or financial danger.
“I’ve no clue.” A shadow passed over Joe’s face that indicated he shared her concern about the propriety of the Fixer’s actions.
“But you’re Harrison’s business partner, his best friend. Surely you must know something.”
“Harrison had a lot of secrets.” Jo
e seemed to regret the words the instant he uttered them. He dragged his fingers through his hair.
“What kind of secrets?” A stone sank in Mariella’s stomach. Each passing day seemed to demonstrate that she didn’t really know her husband at all.
“Secrets he wouldn’t share with me. Like the identity of the Fixer or the types of projects they handled.” Joe sighed. His expression was apologetic. He placed his warm hand on Mariella’s shoulder and forced a smile. “Look, I know this is all very unsettling, but I promise I’ll be there every step of the way to help you through it. Just not tonight. Tonight, we’re celebrating the engagement of your only daughter. That should be your focus. Nothing else, all right?”
Mariella pursed her lips as she studied Joe’s face. “Fine. I’ll forget about it, but just for the night.”
“That’s my girl.” Joe leaned in and kissed her cheek, his heat and citrus cologne surrounding her. “Go ahead and call Gabe. Ask him to escort you tonight. Just be sure to save a dance for me.”
Chapter Two
“You’re the most beautiful woman in the world, Elana Marshall. You know that, right?”
“You’re full of it.” A soft grin played on Elana’s lips as she regarded her reflection in the vanity mirror. “You know that, right?”
“Maybe.” He chuckled softly. “But not about this. Never about you.”
What was it about this man that drove her crazy? Made her skin burn for him and her knees weak?
“You have no idea what you do to me. How much I wish I could be there with you right now. Kissing that dirty little mouth of yours. Touching your soft skin.” His breathing was heavier now.
Elana couldn’t respond. Just the sound of his gruff voice whispering into the phone tightened her nipples painfully. Made her want to slip her fingers beneath the waistband of her satin panties and slide them back and forth over her sensitive nub. Tease the damp space between her thighs and alleviate the pressure building at her core.
Pretend her hand was his.
Elana shifted in the chair. The black silk robe loosely belted at her waist fell open, revealing more of her cleavage. She swallowed hard, her heart racing. “Why are you calling me right now?”
“Because I couldn’t wait to see you again. I needed to hear your voice.” He paused for a moment. “Tell me what you’re wearing.”
Elana studied her reflection. Finally, she let out a soft sigh and stood, letting the robe drift to the carpet. “Not much.”
“C’mon, baby, you know that’s not enough. I want details.”
A sly grin curled the edge of her mouth. “Black lace La Perla thong and a strapless black bra with just enough lift.” She studied her profile in the mirror. “Not that it matters to you.”
“Of course it matters to me. How can you even say that?” His voice was soft and pleading.
“If you really cared, you’d be here with me rather than on the other side of the country right now.”
“Look, you know how I feel about you, Elana.” He sighed. “I want to be with you more than anything, but my situation is complicated. You know that.”
“All I know is that you keep promising to leave your wife, but you haven’t.” She sat in the chair and stared at herself. “And you probably won’t. Not ever.”
“Don’t talk like that,” he cooed. “You’ve got to believe me, baby. Every day I’m making moves so we can be together. You just have to trust me.”
Elana worried her lower lip with her teeth, her chest heaving. Why should she care? Things weren’t serious between her and Jarrod. He was a married man. Completely unavailable.
Just the way she liked them.
What was it that made an older, emotionally unavailable man so damn hot?
“You don’t need to keep promising me that,” she said. “I never asked you to leave Finola.”
Jarrod was a film exec, well-known in his own right. But Finola was the one with the household name and the face that graced countless magazine covers every year. The one with the money and power in their relationship.
He’d never leave Finola, and Elana didn’t want him to. She reminded herself of that every time her heart ached when he walked out the door.
“Maybe you didn’t say it in so many words, but we both know it’s what you want. It’s what we both want. So why are you doing this? Marrying this guy you don’t even love?”
“It certainly didn’t stop you from marrying Finola, did it?”
Jarrod huffed, his tone softening. “Don’t be this way, Elana. You don’t mean it. I know you don’t.”
She didn’t reply; her arms folded and her mouth twisted in a frown.
“C’mon, you were right in the middle of telling me about the La Perla lingerie you’re wearing. You can’t just leave me hanging after that.”
Elana remained silent, though one corner of her mouth pulled into a grin.
“You know what I’m thinking about right now? The last time we were together. Your scent. Kissing every inch of your golden skin. Your taste.”
Elana pressed her knees closed and squirmed. The visions and sensations of that night replayed in her head. Suddenly her head felt light and her skin was flushed. The space between her thighs pulsed with need, and her breath hitched. “That was an incredible night.”
He chuckled softly. “It was, and I can’t wait until I can be with you again. Show you just how much I’ve missed you. How much I want you.”
“Jarrod...” Her voice was a soft plea, her hand drifting down her body, over one sensitive peak and her belly.
There was an abrupt knock at the door.
She froze, her breathing ragged. “Yes?”
“Ms. Elana, it’s Vanessa. Your mother sent me to check on you.”
“Just a minute,” Elana called, then whispered into the phone, “I have to go.”
“Elana...”
“Goodbye, Jarrod.” She ended the call, retrieved her robe from the floor and slipped it on.
Elana opened the door, allowing Vanessa inside as she tied the silk sash around her waist. “What does my mother want?”
“She sent me to help you get ready.” Vanessa’s cheeks were rosy as she assessed Elana’s flushed skin, disheveled clothing and rapid breathing. She glanced around the room. “Your fiancé and all of your family, they will be waiting for you.”
Shit. Thom. The engagement party.
That’s what she was supposed to be doing—preparing for what should be the biggest event of her life. Instead, she was being seduced into phone sex by her very married lover.
I’m an awful person, and I’ll make an awful wife.
Maybe Jarrod was right. She didn’t want to marry Thom.
Thom deserves someone better.
Elana’s face heated, and her stomach churned. She’d tried calling off the wedding with Thom and telling her mother she wasn’t ready for marriage.
Neither of them had wanted to hear it.
Elana fingered the platinum and diamond earrings that dangled from her lobes—a gift from her father on her last birthday. This was what her parents wanted for her. It was what Thom’s parents wanted for him. Thom wanted this, too.
Maybe all of them were right; she didn’t know what was in her own best interest.
Could her marriage to Thom turn out any worse than the disaster her life had already become?
“Ms. Elana,” Vanessa implored, bringing her out of her daze.
Elana checked her watch. “Fuck. I’m going to be late.”
“No.” There was panic in Vanessa’s voice. “You must not be late. I promised your mother this. I will help you get ready.”
“Fine,” Elana huffed.
Vanessa went to the closet and pulled out the refined black-and-white Elie Saab gown she’d plann
ed to wear. The one her mother had helped her pick out after Thom complained his eyes were going blurry with all the choices. It showed only a little skin at the midriff.
It’s your engagement party, Elana. For once, try to be elegant. Her mother’s words replayed in her head.
It was a beautiful dress. The kind a nice, sensible girl would wear to her engagement party.
But that wasn’t who she was, and this engagement party wasn’t what she wanted. Especially not when her father couldn’t be there and her mother was insisting on forging ahead, as if his absence didn’t matter.
She would go ahead with the engagement party because it was what everyone seemed to want so badly. But for her own sanity, she needed to retain at least some part of herself. A way to rebel, even as she blindly followed through with everyone else’s plan for her.
“Not that one.” Her eyes lit up as she walked into her closet and selected the floor-length burnt-orange goddess gown that had inspired her wedding colors. The high slit exposed her thigh and hip bone. It was the dress she’d always planned to wear, but her mother had thought it too provocative for the occasion. “I’m wearing this one instead.”
Vanessa’s eyes widened, and she gasped.
A grin curled the corner of Elana’s mouth.
Perfect.
* * *
A wide smile spread across Luc Marshall’s face as he studied Rachel’s long, lean form and her full, round breasts.
He’d spent the better part of the past hour sitting in a chair in his master suite as Rachel modeled at least a dozen evening gowns. She’d finally settled on the dress she would wear to his sister’s engagement party that night, a black-and-white one-shoulder Monique Lhuillier gown that was high in the front and long in the back.
Rachel had stripped off her final selection and returned it to the closet. She tossed her blond hair over her shoulder as she strutted toward him like a lioness stalking her prey.