Secrets Of The A-List. Reese Ryan

he was a good man. She should be thrilled to be marrying him. So why did the thought of marrying Thom cause a rock to settle in the pit of her belly?

      It’s just nerves.

      That’s what her mother had assured her—she’d said even she had suffered a bad case of cold feet before marrying Elana’s father.

      Marrying Thom would bring joy to her family at a time when they needed it most. It was what both her father and mother wanted. What they thought was best for her. More importantly, it was her opportunity to finally make them proud.

      But say goodbye to the mind-blowing orgasms with Jarrod.

      Elana slipped into a navy Carolina Herrera gown with a butterfly detail and slid on a pair of navy Jimmy Choos. She turned in the mirror and appraised the fit of the dress.

      She glanced at Thom seated in the corner. He’d been so quiet she nearly forgot he was there. “What about this one?”

      He didn’t answer.

      She strode across the room and poked Thom’s shoulder. “That’s the third time today you’ve completely zoned out on me.”

      “Sorry, I was just...” He ran a hand over his head. “Got a lot on my mind, with the engagement party coming up and everything.” He cleared his throat. “What is it?”

      “The dress.” She seethed, turning around. “What do you think of it?”

      “Isn’t that the one you had on a minute ago?”

      She rolled her eyes. “No, it most certainly is not. That was a sleeveless black Oscar de la Renta gown with a deep V-neck and embroidered white floral overlay. This is a strapless navy Carolina Herrera with a sweetheart neckline and a butterfly appliqué.”

      “Oh, well, it’s beautiful.” His smile was as unconvincing as his halfhearted compliment. “You’re stunning, Elana. You’ll look incredible in whichever gown you choose.”

      His words felt hollow, and his mind was elsewhere. Couldn’t he at least pretend to be excited about their engagement party?

      “You don’t care at all, do you?”

      “Of course I do.” He stood, taking her in his arms. “You know I do.”

      Elana sighed, her lips pursed. “Then can you at least act as if you care? This party is important. It means a lot to me and to my mother. Everything needs to be perfect. I need to be perfect. Starting with my outfit. Now, will you please help me pick something out that says we’re a happy couple and my father is going to be all right?”

      She turned to walk away, but he grabbed her hand, pulling her close again. “We are a happy couple, and your father is going to be all right. You have to believe that.”

      Elana nodded, fighting back the tears that stung her eyes whenever she thought of her father lying unconscious in that hospital bed, hooked up to tubes and machines. He looked so helpless and vulnerable. Nothing like the invincible man she’d known her entire life. The man who’d always come to her rescue whenever she needed him.

      “Say it.” Thom tipped her chin.

      “My father is going to be fine.” She swiped a knuckle beneath her eye. “And we are a happy couple.”

      Thom’s smile barely lifted his cheeks. “Damn straight.”

      * * *

      Thom settled back in the chair, forcing a smile and showering his fiancée with effusive praise as she tried on the parade of designer dresses and corresponding shoes. Yet, his mind was still a million miles away.

      He’d promised to carefully consider his decision to reveal the identity of the Fixer to his fiancée and her mother. He would tell them the truth because it was the right thing to do, despite the tempting offer being dangled in front of him.

      I’m talking about an obscene amount of money here, Thom. The kind of wealth that would finally allow you to be your own man.

      The words replayed in his head, along with a vision of a life that was his own. One in which he could follow his heart’s desires, rather than being made to feel ashamed of them. Or compelled to do something that went directly against his nature.

      Thom smiled and fawned over another of the dresses Elana modeled. Yet inside there was a growing anxiety.

      What’ll happen when I turn down the offer?

      Could a person who seemed so affable and innocuous really cause him physical harm? Would the Fixer ruin Scott and Associates—his family’s luxury real estate firm?

      The Fixer had likely done much worse to others.

      Even if Thom accepted the offer, he’d be making a deal with the devil.

      He wiped a sweaty palm on his pant leg.

      Either way, I’m fucked.

      * * *

      Mariella Santiago-Marshall sat at her dressing table in a brilliant-hued teal silk kimono. A gift Harrison had picked up for her during a trip to Japan a few years ago.

      She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, but she couldn’t visualize the strong, virile man her husband had always been. Instead, the image of Harrison lying comatose in a hospital bed came to mind whenever she thought of him.

      Harrison had shown no notable improvement since the accident. Worse, there were no indications he would.

      Yet, rather than camping at his bedside, here she was preparing for Thom and Elana’s lavish engagement party.

      They’d moved forward with the party at her insistence—a calculated public relations move. Maintaining their front as a strong, united family was more crucial now than ever.

      The uncertainty of Harrison’s condition cast a long, dark shadow that filled them all with a growing sense of dread. How could Harrison leave the fate of their empire and their family in the hands of the Fixer?

      She’d convinced herself that what they all needed was a night of celebration and gaiety to ease the tension.

      After her last visit to Harrison, those words rang hollow.

      She should be by his side. Not celebrating with a gaudy, star-studded affair, as if Harrison’s life didn’t hang in the balance.

      Over a lunch date with Thom’s mother, Mariella had confessed that she was beginning to doubt her decision to carry on with the engagement party. Caroline Scott’s warm cocoa skin blanched at the suggestion. The woman had recycled all the arguments Mariella had posed to Thom and Elana about why the party must go on.

      It was a show of unity. A dose of much-needed joy at such a difficult time. The only way to counter the rumors that Marshall International was vulnerable to a hostile takeover.

      It was what Harrison would’ve wanted.

      That was the biggest lie. A lie she’d created when it had suited her objective.

      She’d tentatively agreed, but Caroline hadn’t looked convinced. Her husband, Samuel, had visited Mariella at the restaurant hours later, reinforcing his wife’s plea.

      The party must go on.

      Mariella had agreed, but now...

      “Earth to Mariella.” The voice of Lane Devereux, her longtime hairstylist, shook her from her daze. Lane’s gaze met hers in the mirror, one eyebrow quirked. He stood behind her creating soft beach waves with a ceramic flat iron. “You’re a million miles away, Mariella. What’s going on?”

      She studied Lane’s face in the mirror. Nearly six feet tall with golden-brown skin and penetrating, coffee-colored eyes, Lane was incredibly handsome. A fact he owned comfortably and used to his advantage. Slicked-back salt-and-pepper curls and the gray stubble that crawled along his strong jaw were the only evidence of his age, which he wore remarkably well.

      “I’m having