Secrets Of The A-List

Money can’t buy happiness—but it might buy silence

Yet another bombshell is dropped on the Marshalls, one that threatens to change everything. But there’s no time to dwell on it with Elana and Thom’s engagement party in full swing. So why is Mariella more focused on handsome family friend Joe than on the happy couple?

As if the Fixer doesn’t have enough to worry about, especially with Thom threatening to reveal all. Time to seal those loose lips. After all, what’s a party without blackmail?

Super Rich. Super Sexy. Super Addictive.

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

Secrets of the A-List (Episode 4 of 12)

Reese Ryan

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Praise for Reese Ryan

“Both characters are strong, and their relationship develops naturally, without any force or pretense. Readers will enjoy sharing their bumpy ride to their happy ending.”

—Publishers Weekly on Playing with Desire

About the Author

REESE RYAN usually writes sexy, contemporary romance featuring colorful characters and sinfully sweet romances. She challenges her heroines with family and career drama, reformed bad boys, revealed secrets and the occasional identity crisis, but always rewards them with a well-earned happy ending.

A native of The Land (Cleveland, Ohio), Reese resides in North Carolina, where she carefully treads the line between being a Southerner and a Yankee, despite her insistence on calling soda “pop.” She gauges her progress by the number of “bless your lil’ hearts” she receives each week. She is currently down to two.

Reese is an avid reader with a to-be-read stack that resembles a small skyscraper, and a music lover with a serious thing for brilliant singer/songwriters and an incurable addiction to Broadway soundtracks and film scores. Connect with Reese via Instagram, Facebook or reeseryan.com.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Title Page

Praise

About the Author

Episode Four

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Copyright

Episode Four

The Fixer isn’t always polite when secrets need to be kept—and he’s already given Thom a chance to follow the rules. Will Thom take it—or will permanent steps need to be taken to keep the groom-to-be silent forever?

Chapter One

“Hang up the phone. Now.”

Thom watched the Fixer’s lips silently shape the words.

Thom loosened his slim gray Armani silk tie and cleared his throat, his heart beating faster.

“Thom? Thom, what is it? What’s going on? You’re freaking me out right now.” The high, tight pitch of Elana’s voice brought him back to her.

“Sorry, Elana, I have to go. I’ll call you back in a few minutes.” Thom locked eyes with the Fixer, who was nodding approval.

“But Thom, you can’t just say something like that and then go. Seriously, what the—”

Thom ended the call in the middle of Elana’s frantic protest. He shoved his phone into his inside pocket and folded his arms as he widened his stance.

“I know you overheard my conversation. You’re a smart guy, so I know you’ve figured out that I’m the Fixer. But that information needs to stay between us.”

“Why would I keep this from my fiancée?”

“Telling Elana would be a mistake. One you don’t want to make.”

The situation was awkward, but not dangerous. It wasn’t as if he were dealing with a stranger. No reason for him to feel intimidated, despite the stern look on the Fixer’s face.

“You threatening me?” Thom folded his arms and lengthened his spine to his full height, his chin jutting out. “That is what you do, isn’t it?”

Chuckling softly, the Fixer’s stance softened. “Why would I do that when there’s a much better option?”

Thom’s shoulders relaxed. “Which is?”

Leaning in to straighten Thom’s tie, the Fixer’s mouth curved in a soft smile. Now the Fixer’s face was inches from his. “A proposition.”

Does he know?

The family hadn’t learned much about the Fixer, but Elana had told him they knew the Fixer dealt in secrets. Powerful secrets that could bring a man or his empire to its knees.

Thom studied the Fixer’s face as he stepped back. The eyes he once considered to be kind now seemed dark and menacing. The smile that typically exuded warmth and compassion was suddenly cold and manipulative.

Had everything he’d believed been wrong, or was this the deception? Was the Fixer testing him, or was this something more? Something completely unexpected?

Thom swallowed hard. “What kind of proposition are you talking about?”

“Wait...you thought I meant you and me?” The Fixer laughed, as if it were the most absurd thing ever heard. “Don’t be ridiculous, Thom. You’re in love with Elana, about to be a married man.” The Fixer smiled again. “What I’m offering is far better. Something you wouldn’t think of refusing.”

No, there’s no way the Fixer could know the truth.

If so, wouldn’t the Fixer have tried to put a halt to his impending marriage to Elana?

“What could you possibly have to offer that would make me keep a secret like this from Elana? She’s my fiancée, for God’s sake. Don’t you think that she and the rest of the family deserve to know?”

The Fixer’s attention shifted to Eli, the family’s gardener. They both greeted the man, then the Fixer indicated that they should move the conversation to the poolside cabana.

Thom followed reluctantly. There was no reason to be afraid. Still, he was relieved that Eli had seen them together and that the curtains in the pool house were drawn. They could talk in private, but he’d still be safe.

Just in case.

The Fixer closed the French doors and gestured toward the sofa.

Thom sat on the edge of the seat. He wouldn’t be there long. He’d hear the Fixer out, but there was nothing that would change his mind. Elana and Mariella needed to know the truth. He needed the gratitude he’d earn for discovering the Fixer’s identity. Leverage he could use if Elana lost her nerve again and considered bailing on their wedding.

Besides, there were enough secrets between him and Elana already. He wouldn’t add another. No enticement could compel him to think otherwise. Yet, his curiosity got the better of him.

“So, this proposition...”

The Fixer grinned, sitting back in the chair, crossing one leg over the other.

So damn smug.

“I can offer you the one thing you want more than anything else in the world.” A self-satisfied smirk spread across the Fixer’s face.

“I already have everything I need, and I’m more than capable of acquiring anything I want,” Thom replied, determined not to show the irritation bubbling beneath the surface. His family didn’t have the Marshalls’ wealth, but they certainly weren’t paupers.

“I’m offering more than just money, Thom.” The Fixer placed both feet on the floor and leaned forward. “What I’m offering you is freedom.”

“From?”

“The obligations and expectations that come along with your parents’ money.” When Thom didn’t reply, the Fixer continued. “I’m offering you a cut of the action. All you have to do to earn it is keep what you heard to yourself. 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 implication, regardless of how true, smarted. Still, it was a tempting thought.

What if money weren’t an issue? He wouldn’t need his parents’ approval. He could live his life as he pleased.

He wouldn’t need to marry Elana.

He could jump off the Marshall family crazy train and spend his days lying in the warm sand on a beach in the South of France. Make love to whomever he wanted, whenever he wanted. Without fear of repercussions.

Thom heaved a sigh, his jaw clenched. It was a nice fantasy, but he wasn’t naive enough to believe that money like that wouldn’t come with a shitload of strings attached. The kind that could strangle you to death if you weren’t careful.

“No.” Thom shook his head, his tone firm and decisive. “I don’t want your dirty money.”

The person seated across from him grimaced, the icy gaze narrowing for a moment at the implication of Thom’s words. “Despite what you may think, I’ve helped a lot of people—including members of this family—out of some very sticky situations. I’ve saved careers, reputations, legacies.”

“If what you’re doing is so noble, why hide it?”

“Because work like this is best done behind the scenes and in the shadows. It requires ruffling feathers and making enemies. By not telling them, I’m keeping them safe.”

“A lot of good that did Harrison.” Thom assessed the Fixer carefully. “I’m beginning to think that what happened to him wasn’t an accident at all.”

“There’s no evidence it was anything other than an accident.”

“What if it wasn’t? Maybe your side hustle has put all the Marshalls in jeopardy. Even if it’s only a small possibility, shouldn’t they know?”

“They aren’t. I assure you.” The Fixer stood, pacing the room. “But they’re certainly under enough stress already. The last thing they need is this.”

“I won’t lie to Elana.” Thom nearly whispered the words, the irony of the statement not lost on him.

“I understand, and I know it’s a lot to process right now. All I ask is that you take some time and think it through. Sleep on it. Better yet, why don’t you wait until after the engagement party? Elana’s already stressed. You wouldn’t want to upset her or Mariella before then, would you?”

This wasn’t about sparing Elana or Mariella’s feelings. It was about buying time. Thom realized that. He wasn’t stupid. Still, considering everything that had happened, perhaps it was a kindness to delay delivering the news to Elana and Mariella.

Elana was already hanging on by a thread. She’d been close to calling the wedding off the other day. He was sure of it. How would she react if she learned the truth about the Fixer?

Their upcoming wedding was one of the most anticipated social events of the season. He and Elana had been content with the small, private engagement party his parents had thrown at their home soon after the engagement. But they’d finally given in to pressure from Harrison and Mariella to have a big engagement bash that was more consistent with what was “expected” of the Marshalls. After numerous revisions to the guest list, more than three hundred people—including society and entertainment magazine reporters and photographers—were invited to their “intimate” official engagement party.

Calling off the wedding and engagement party would set off a social scandal and heighten the rumors already swirling about the Marshalls since Harrison’s accident. The gossip rags would undoubtedly raise questions about Thom’s relationship with Elana.

Samuel and Caroline Scott would not look kindly upon rumors questioning his sexuality.

As an only child, his parents had doted on him his whole life, and Thom loved them back—but he had also grown up knowing exactly what his parents wanted. They’d built their real estate empire for him and his future. He couldn’t escape knowing what they expected him to be—the man to carry on the Scott family name. To marry, have the grandchildren his mother yearned for, to be a legacy. Just like the Marshalls.

At heart it was all he wanted to be able to give to them...but that meant quashing his secret desires and focusing on Elana. It wouldn’t be that hard, he supposed. After all, she was beautiful. And sweet. And his best friend. He did love her.

He just hoped it would be enough, given that now, his future was tied to his marriage to Elana in more ways than one.

“I haven’t changed my mind, but I will think about it. I promise I won’t say a word about this to Elana or Mariella until after the engagement party.”

“I’d think long and hard about it if I were you, Thom.” The tone was grave and the stare icy as the Fixer stood. “There’s a lot on the line for everyone.”

Thom watched as the Fixer left the cabana. He ran a hand through his hair, a chill running down his spine.

What would happen when he refused to keep the Fixer’s secret? Would he end up like Harrison? Or worse?

* * *

Elana Marshall surveyed the growing stack of bags and boxes laid out in her suite. Chanel, Givenchy, Saint Laurent, Versace, Elie Saab, Christian Lacroix, Oscar de la Renta and Carolina Herrera. Red-bottomed Louboutin heels, Jimmy Choo sandals and mile-high Aquazzuras.

Modeling the endless options was thrilling. It distracted her from thoughts of her impending wedding to Thom. An event she still couldn’t consider without the crushing feeling that she was making a huge mistake.

Elana glanced over at her fiancé. He was there to help her pick out a dress for their big engagement party that was just two days away, but he was preoccupied. The pained look on his face mirrored the unsettling feeling that came over her whenever she thought of their wedding.

Thom was tall and handsome. He’d always been a loyal and reliable friend. Most importantly, 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 second thoughts about the engagement party.”

No point in hiding the truth from Lane. She’d known him since Elana was a baby, and she’d been trusting him with her secrets for more than two decades.

Talking with Lane was cathartic. If only she could confide in him about the Fixer. But sharing such potentially volatile information wasn’t an option.

“You’re worried because Elana’s still got a thing for Jarrod?” Lane twirled another strand of hair around the hot iron. “Don’t be. I know she has the hots for him now, but Thom is a young stud. If he handles his business right, Elana will get over her little crush on Hollywood’s favorite man whore before you know it.”

Mariella groaned silently. Elana’s continued preoccupation with Jarrod was a concern, but not the one bothering her now.

“I’m worried that going ahead with the party while Harrison lies in a hospital bed will make us seem shallow and insensitive.”

“It’s a little late for that, love.” Lane raised a brow as he eyed her reflection. “The party is hours away. If you cancel now, rumors about the state of the Marshalls will run wild.”

“I know, but—”

“No buts, Mariella.” Lane set the steaming implement on its stand and repositioned her hair so that soft waves framed her face. “I know you’re concerned about Harrison. We all are. But you know damned well he’d want you to march your ass into that party tonight with your head held high, looking like the regal queen you are.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling myself, but now I’m not so sure.”

“Well, I am.” Lane turned her chair and lifted her chin, rearranging a few more locks. “Canceling now would be a waste of time and a hell of a lot of money. And the message it would send...” Lane clucked his tongue. “They’d have Harrison dead and gone by the news at eleven.”

“You’re right, of course. The party must go on. It’s a shame I’m not feeling very festive.”

“Well, perk up, sister.” He gave her a warm smile that she couldn’t help but return. “This hair looks way too good to be outshined by your grumpy disposition.”

Mariella laughed. Lane Devereux was the one person in her life who was no-nonsense. He said exactly what he meant, without compunction. In a world filled with insincere sycophants who’d say or do anything to curry her favor, Lane’s no-holds-barred honesty was refreshing. His tendency to cut through the bullshit and say what needed to be said was the reason she’d confided in him so often over the years. Lane wouldn’t tell her what she wanted to hear. He’d tell her what she needed to hear: the truth. Plain and simple.

If he’d been anyone else, she’d have thought his words insensitive. But it was Lane. He was simply giving her a much-needed dose of reality.

“I’ll do my best.” Mariella smiled.

“That’s my girl.” Lane squeezed her shoulders. After spritzing her black tresses lightly with hair gloss, he nodded his approval. “Now you’re all set. Let’s see what you’re wearing tonight.”