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  “And I’d like to remind you that I’m as invested in this business as anybody,” Luc replied.

  “Now, that’s not true,” Joe said, his tone genial, but Mariella heard the note of steel under the easy words. “You work six days a week at your LA practice. Rafe consults, on a very ad hoc basis, but he is in no way fully involved, either.”

  “I work for the company,” Elana jumped in.

  Joe reached across Rafe to pat her knee, not bothering to reply. Mariella knew what he was thinking—Elana playacted at work, doing the minimum amount to keep her from being fired. Of all of them, only Gabe showed true dedication to the company, and his blood was hers, not Harrison’s. But he, at least, knew what he was doing at Marshall International.

  “I’d feel a lot more comfortable if one of us helped make any decisions that might have far-reaching consequences,” Luc stated. “We are his heirs, after all. I can scale back at the practice and spend more time at the company.”

  “And I can help, as well. I can start work tomorrow,” Rafe jumped in, not wanting to feel left out.

  “I am the oldest, Rafe. I can represent us, and our interests, adequately.”

  And she, as their mother, couldn’t? Whom did they think she worked for? Everything she did was for them!

  Rafe shook his head. “You might be the oldest, but your head is up your ass. You are so damn distracted these days that I’m surprised you haven’t run into a malpractice suit.”

  Elana leaned sideways and jumped into the argument. “Why don’t you two ever consider me? I actually work for the company!”

  “Do you actually know the definition of that word, Elana?” Luc demanded. “It actually means doing more than turning up and looking pretty.”

  God, this was a nightmare. Mariella glanced at Gabe as her children argued. He was watching a ship on the horizon, seeming unaffected by the argument raging around him. But she could see the tension in his jaw, the rigid cords of his neck. Feeling her eyes on him, he turned his head to look at her, and she saw the profound and heartfelt sympathy in his eyes. Mariella watched Gabe’s eyes harden as the argument around them escalated.

  “Shut up!” Gabe’s terse command cut through the siblings’ argument like a sharp knife through flesh. “You three are the biggest pains in the ass the world has ever known. Can one of you surprise me and think beyond yourselves? Your mother represents your interests—she always has, you morons! And can I remind you that your father is inside, fighting for his life, and you three are bickering like mean kids on a playground. Just shut the hell up, all of you!”

  Shock receded, and three pairs of accusatory eyes landed on his face. When silence reigned, Gabe drew in a breath before placing his beer bottle on the table between them. “We need to think about what Uncle Harrison would want. It isn’t this.”

  “How the hell would you know what my father would want?” Luc asked, private school snooty. Low blow, Luc, Mariella thought, ashamed of him. Why did Luc constantly feel the need to remind Gabe that he wasn’t really part of this family, that he wasn’t a Marshall by blood?

  It was time for her, as their mother, to intervene. Mariella snapped her spine straight and sent a continue-or-die look to each of her children, holding Luc’s eyes a tad longer than the rest. “Be quiet and listen to what Joe has to say.”

  Mariella placed her hand on Joe’s knee and bit her lip. That train she’d been thinking about earlier was now so close that she could feel the heat of its engine, its vibrations running through her. She was about to be annihilated, she knew that just as she knew that the Pacific Ocean beyond them was bright and blue.

  Joe ignored her hand, didn’t respond, and Mariella tapped his knee. “Joe? Who is in charge? Is it me? Luc? Gabe? Rafe?”

  “Me?” Elana’s voice drifted over to her, but Mariella ignored her.

  “None of the above,” Joe replied, finally looking up. The expression in his eyes was a mixture of nerves and fear and dread. Dear Lord, Harrison, what have you done?

  “Harrison has, over the years, done a number of favors for many powerful people. Those favors have become a sideline business.”

  It was a bolt from the blue. “What type of favors?” Gabe asked, shock coating his words.

  “Anything, everything. Harrison and his partner made bad things, people, choices and consequences go away. They ensured that potential scandals disappeared. Harrison initially worked alone, but then he took on a partner in this fixing business, and that partner is the one who is going to be calling the shots. It is my belief that those shots include who makes certain decisions about Harrison’s business and Harrison himself.” Joe looked at Mariella and shrugged.

  “You weren’t consulted about Harrison’s move to this clinic because you didn’t need to be. This person—”

  “God, Joe...this person what?” Luc demanded, impatient.

  “This person is bad news. The secrecy? Someone hiding out in the shadows? It’s...” They all held their breath as Joe looked for the word he wanted to use. “...sinister. What the person has done, does, raises the hair on the back of my neck.”

  Mariella gasped as that heavy freight train slammed into her.

  “Who are we talking about?” she demanded, her heart in her throat.

  Joe sent her an anxious smile and shook his head. “I don’t know, exactly, but in certain circles, this person is called the Fixer.”

  * * * * *

  A possibly fatal accident has taken out their beloved husband and father. Luc and Rafe are fighting—so what else is new?—but this time, for the paparazzi. Their sister, Elana, is tangled in the arms—and sheets—of her married lover and isn’t answering her messages. And now this stunning surprise! Just who is this mysterious person calling the shots for the mighty Marshall family?

  Read SECRETS OF THE A-LIST (Episode 2 of 12)

  By Clare Connelly

  To find out what happens next!

  Available now from Harlequin Serials

  wherever Harlequin ebooks are sold

  Don’t miss a single installment of the

  SECRETS OF THE A-LIST series:

  SECRETS OF THE A-LIST (Episode 1 of 12)

  by Joss Wood

  SECRETS OF THE A-LIST (Episode 2 of 12)

  by Clare Connelly

  SECRETS OF THE A-LIST (Episode 3 of 12)

  by Donna Hill

  SECRETS OF THE A-LIST (Episode 4 of 12)

  by Reese Ryan

  SECRETS OF THE A-LIST (Episode 5 of 12)

  by Helen Lacey

  SECRETS OF THE A-LIST (Episode 6 of 12)

  by Michelle Major

  SECRETS OF THE A-LIST (Episode 7 of 12)

  by Yahrah St. John

  SECRETS OF THE A-LIST (Episode 8 of 12)

  by Cat Schield

  SECRETS OF THE A-LIST (Episode 9 of 12)

  by Maya Blake

  SECRETS OF THE A-LIST (Episode 10 of 12)

  by USA TODAY Bestselling Author Dani Collins

  SECRETS OF THE A-LIST (Episode 11 of 12)

  by Maya Blake

  SECRETS OF THE A-LIST (Episode 12 of 12)

  by Karen Booth

  Available now from Harlequin Serials

  wherever Harlequin ebooks are sold

  And don’t miss two linked romances also featuring the Marshall family from Harlequin Desire®:

  CONVENIENT CINDERELLA BRIDE

  by Joss Wood

  On sale now

  and

  SNOWED IN WITH A BILLIONAIRE

  by Karen Booth

  Coming in December 2017

  SECRETS OF THE A-LIST

  (Episode 2 of 12)

  Clare Connelly

  The lies are spreading like wildfire...
/>   Someone powerful is calling the shots for the Marshall family. Could it be the “Fixer”? Whoever it is, they’re feeding lies to the press about Harrison’s condition. Meanwhile decisions need to be made. About the family business. About wild child Elana’s wedding to her best friend Thom. The family is determined to find out who their secret guardian devil is—before every last one of their secrets and lies is uncovered...

  Super Rich. Super Sexy. Super Addictive.

  Secrets of the A-List

  About the Author

  Clare Connelly was raised in small-town Australia among a family of avid readers. She spent much of her childhood up a tree, Harlequin book in hand. Clare is married to her own real-life hero and they live in a bungalow near the sea with their two children. She is frequently found staring into space—a surefire sign she is in the world of her characters. She has a penchant for French food and ice-cold champagne, and Harlequin novels continue to be her favorite ever books. Writing for Harlequin Presents is a long-held dream. Clare can be contacted via clareconnelly.com or her Facebook page.

  Visit her Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for other titles.

  Contents

  Episode Two

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Episode Two

  The mighty Marshall family is in a downward spiral. Patriarch Harrison is in a coma. Sons Luc and Rafe are at each other’s throats—literally. Daughter Elana just can’t stay away from her forbidden lover, and matriarch Mariella is doing everything within her power to keep up appearances, because that’s her job...or is it? It seems someone else might be trying to fill her designer shoes...

  Chapter One

  The voice seemed to be coming from a long way away, as if she were at the bottom of the ocean and someone was calling to her from the shore.

  “Mariella! Mariella! You must wake up.”

  But she didn’t want to wake up. Memories were leaden clouds on the edges of her mind. Something unpleasant hovered at the periphery, and subconsciously she knew that stirring would mean facing it. And she didn’t want to do that.

  “Wake up!”

  The sound of a door being pushed open punctuated her sleep, and then she was being shaken, roughly, her shoulders gripped by determined hands. She startled, her eyes flying open.

  The housekeeper, Vanessa, hovered above her, her dark hair in an unusual state of disarray, as though she, too, had been woken by the strange noises that were bouncing through Casa de Catalina.

  The middle of the night surrounded them, but it offered little protection. “I tried to keep them away. I told them you were asleep.”

  Mariella shook her head, and reached up, wrapping her fingers around her housekeeper’s wrist. She dislodged the grip Vanessa had on Mariella’s shoulder but kept ahold of the young woman’s hand. “Told who I was asleep?”

  “The men. They’re coming. They’re coming to get you!”

  Mariella’s lips curved downward in an unmistakable sign of bemusement, but there was a loud noise from just outside her bedroom. It came out of nowhere, like a hurricane that had dropped on a hay plain. “Mariella Santiago-Marshall.” A man in a dark suit entered the room and waved a flashlight around dramatically, despite the fact that a light switch was right beside him. “Stay where you are.”

  She pulled at the crisp white bedsheet, lifting it up to her chin with one hand while the other held Vanessa’s, now out of fear rather than a desire to comfort the domestic.

  But she was Mariella Santiago-Marshall, and powerful blood pounded through her veins. Fear was something she would not debase herself by expressing. Not to these strangers who had seen fit to invade her home.

  “Like hell I will,” she muttered under her breath before assuming a mask of total control. “Perhaps you gentlemen would like to tell me just what is going on?”

  The man who’d walked in first approached the bed. Unwanted fear slammed against Mariella. There was evil in his face. She didn’t trust him. She didn’t want him in her house or anywhere near her. Why hadn’t Vanessa been able to cope with this and get rid of them all? And where was Harrison?

  Darkness cloyed at her throat as she thought of her husband. The presentiment of disaster hovered nearer.

  “We have a warrant to search the premises.”

  “A warrant?” Adrenaline spiked the taste of salt and aluminum in her mouth. “Whatever for?”

  “Links between your family and the Fixer.”

  The Fixer.

  Her stomach contracted as the ominous name slammed through her consciousness.

  “I don’t know anything about the Fixer,” she said, dropping the bedsheet and pushing to standing. Vanessa hovered beside her, and Mariella took comfort from her proximity, though the woman was slight and looked almost as terrified as Mariella felt.

  The man’s smile was supercilious. Mariella’s manicured fingers itched to slap it off his face. “That’s what we’re here to determine, ma’am.”

  It was the ma’am that did it. The way it was spoken with such contempt. “No.” Mariella was used to being listened to. In her business, when she wanted something, she got it. And usually ten times over.

  Her impact wasn’t lessened by the current circumstances. The men who were engaged in searching her drawers, pulling shoe boxes out of her wardrobe and tossing them carelessly onto the carpeted floor, and even the ones on their bellies, scrambling under the bed, paused to give Mariella their attention.

  “No,” she repeated, with a quietness to her tone that was more powerful than a scream might have been. “You will not be in my bedroom. Not now. I don’t care what that piece of paper says. Until my lawyers have seen it, you are not to be here.”

  The man’s smile grew wider. “I don’t think you understand. You don’t have any rights here. This gives me all the rights. All the power. I can do whatever I want.”

  “No, you can’t,” she responded, her cheeks slashed with color. “Get out now.”

  His laugh was her tipping point. A soft sound, it felt like blades were being drawn across her back. She launched at him, pushing his chest hard. It felt good! Pent-up emotions were powering out of her palms, hitting him hard, and she pushed until he connected with the wall opposite.

  The man let her push him. His eyes locked to hers as she hit him again and then flicked over her shoulder. She lifted her hand, ready to slap him hard across the face, but her wrist was caught in a viselike grip. Her other followed, and the unfamiliar sensation of cold handcuffs being snapped around her flesh curdled her blood.

  What the hell was going on?

  “That, Mrs. Santiago-Marshall, is called obstruction of justice.” His smarmy smile was back. “And you’re under arrest. You have the right to remain silent...”

  She froze, the last minute of her life playing out like a horror show before her eyes. What had just happened? What was going on? Sleep was pulling at her, begging her back to bed, to blot out the rest of the world.

  “If you cannot afford an attorney...”

  The words droned on without properly registering. She’d watched enough bad cop shows to know the Miranda rights by heart.

  “Vanessa—” A husky sound. “Vanessa. You need to find Harrison. Harrison? Harrison! Harrison, help me!”

  The knocking was back. Louder now. Where was it coming from?

  “Mariella? Are you okay?”

  Vanessa’s voice through the closed door rang with concern. Disoriented, Mariella could only stare at her bedroom. It was empty. No shoe boxes strewn over the floor. No detectives wriggling under the bed looking for evidence of her wrongdoing. The nightmare was swallowed by reality, but her heart was still hammering in her chest like a hangov
er of the fear that had knifed her final few moments of rest.

  Her fingertips drifted across the bed on autopilot, seeking the source of her comfort for the last thirty-two years. Whatever she’d faced in life, Harrison had faced it with her.

  He wasn’t there.

  She lifted shaking fingers to her lips as the memories that had been tormenting her sleep began to order themselves in her mind. Truth sifted itself out of the dream state, and reality crystallized.

  “I heard shouting.” Vanessa pushed the door inward. Unlike the Vanessa who’d appeared in the nightmare, the housekeeper was now as immaculate as ever, her curvaceous figure in uniform, her hair swirled into a neat bun at the nape of her neck. Vanessa’s eyes moved through the room and then landed back on Mariella.

  “You’re mistaken,” Mariella said, her dark eyes clashing with Vanessa’s.

  Vanessa frowned. “I’m sure I heard—”

  “No.” Mariella’s smile was perfunctory, and Vanessa took the hint after a small hesitation. “Everything’s fine.” It wasn’t, though. Harrison! Grief was as tight about her heart as the dream handcuffs had been on her wrists.

  “I’m sorry for the intrusion, then.” A hint of frustration came across in the abrupt delivery of Vanessa’s apology.

  Mariella waved a slim hand in the air. “Don’t worry about it. It’s morning now anyway. Time I was awake.” She had a day to face. A day that she somehow knew would be one of the hardest of her life.

  “Would you like anything?”

  Peace. Quiet. To find that this, too, had been a dream. Her eyes drifted to his side of the bed. A sob was rising in her chest, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to let anyone see her cry.

  “Coffee,” she said with a tight nod. “Thank you.” It was a curt directive, and the message was clear. Get out.

  “My darling,” Mariella whispered into the room as the door clicked shut. Her eyes fluttered closed and the image of Harrison as he’d been in hospital was right there. His powerful body almost lifeless. His tall frame long in the hospital bed. Wires protruding from his arms and chest, eyes closed. The background noise of machinery and technology.