LITMIR.BIZ

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been spirited away to Paris, away from the tabloids and her son, and Mariella suspected Harrison had played a part in that.

      Obviously, the Fixer was involved, too. It made perfect sense. And made her lingering suspicions that Luc was somehow a part of it all curdle around in her subconscious. Luc had the means, the money and the contacts to be part of such a scheme. Luc would do whatever was necessary to garner his father’s approval. And he would often scurry into Harrison’s office to talk to his dad alone. Secret meetings and secret discussions. Luc had the backbone needed to be part of such a thing. He was his father’s son, after all.

      His father’s son...

      Memories, as fresh and clear as though they were yesterday, filled her heart. Like a movie camera in reverse, she was taken back in time, to another place, another life, to a love that held the promise of hope and youthful dreams. But in an instant, the memory was gone. Mariella blinked the heat from her eyes. She’d stopped crying decades ago. Tears were for fools. The past few weeks, she’d forgotten that a few times and let weakness slip out.

      “I need to concentrate on work,” she said out loud and sighed heavily.

      But with the business growing weekly, Harrison’s condition and the upcoming wedding, a vacation wasn’t in the cards in the near future. And the telephone hadn’t stopped ringing for over a week. There were emails to respond to, appointments to make and plans to put into action. Since the engagement party, MSM Event Planning, the catering arm of Marshall International, had gained several new and influential clients. Clients that were too important to put off or reschedule. Instead, Mariella was determined that business would go ahead as usual. The restaurants would function as smoothly and profitably as always, and the catering area would continue to grow and develop. Just as Harrison had planned. And it would all be there for him when he woke up.

      Having strength was hard. And exhausting. That’s why she felt as though she could sleep for a week. Keeping up appearances took a heavy toll. And when she was home alone, she didn’t have to pretend. She didn’t have to kid herself that everything would be okay. If Harrison didn’t wake up, nothing would ever be okay again. She would lose her husband. Half of herself. And she wasn’t sure how she would cope with that. Grief, sharp and intense, worked its way through her blood and across her skin and then pinched sharply behind her ribs. Maybe losing someone to death was easier. This...this middle road...asleep but awake...it was the worst kind of torture.

      And she knew Harrison would hate being at the mercy of machines and doctors and round-the-clock care. He was a proud, strong man. Her man. Her husband. And she wanted him back.

      Mariella was just about to begin answering emails when Vanessa appeared through the patio doors, carrying a tray of drinks. Mariella stretched out her back and looked toward the other woman as she approached.

      “I thought you might need this,” the younger woman said and placed the tray on the table.

      Mariella eyed the pitcher of ice water and the frosted tumbler. Mint sprigs and fresh blueberries bobbed around in the water, which normally would have quenched her thirst. But today...today she needed something else. Something stronger.

      “Gin and tonic is what I need,” Mariella said and waved a dismissive hand. “Go easy on the tonic.”

      She caught Vanessa’s odd, almost disapproving look and guessed that the housekeeper was thinking about how it was barely past ten o’clock in the morning. It irked her and then made her angry. Well, to hell with disapproval from the help. She wanted a drink. End of story.

      “Oh,” Vanessa said and stepped back. “Okay.”

      “Leave that,” Mariella snapped when the housekeeper moved to collect the tray. “Just get me a drink,” she said and then realized how abrupt she sounded. “Please. Change the gin and tonic to sangria instead,” she said and managed a smile. “It’s a little more civilized for this hour of the day.”

      “Certainly, Mrs. Santiago-Marshall,” Vanessa said, nodding as she turned on her heels and walked toward the house.

      Mariella watched as the younger woman left the patio, and her annoyance quickly subsided when she saw Joe Reynolds pass Vanessa in the doorway. She hadn’t been expecting him, but it was a lovely surprise. And exactly what she needed. He was now talking to Vanessa, and they both nodded. Then Mariella saw Vanessa smile, and she wondered for a moment if Joe was flirting with her housekeeper. But, no, Joe wasn’t that kind of man. He would never fool around with someone young enough to be his daughter. As he walked toward her, smiling that lovely smile of his, she put those thoughts out of her head. Joe was one of the good guys. Harrison’s friend. My friend. Even if, sometimes, she secretly thought he watched her with a kind of seductive, masculine interest. It was foolish. Stupid. Joe didn’t look at her like that. And she didn’t want him to.

      “Hey there,” Joe said and came around the table, pulling out a chair and sitting down.

      Mariella looked him over. His craggy but still handsome face always made her smile. Joe was one of those men with a kind of natural, easygoing manner that seemed to ooze strength and integrity. People trusted Joe. Mariella knew she could count on him. They’d been friends a long time, and he was always there with a word of wisdom or a shoulder to cry on.

      And he had nice shoulders, she noticed, not for the first time. Broad and strong. He looked fit and masculine and had a kind of outdoorsy appearance. As though he would be at ease in the boardroom as well as reeling in a marlin off the edge of a fishing boat or scaling a cliff face without a rope.

      “Hi,” she said and smiled a little. “I didn’t expect to see you today.”

      He shrugged. “I thought I’d drop by. Is that okay?”

      She nodded. “Of course. I’m always happy to see you.”

      “You don’t look happy,” he said boldly. “You have that funny crease between your eyebrows...you know, the one you get when you’ve been overthinking things.”

      Mariella automatically rubbed a finger between her brows. “What crease?”

      He chuckled. “Tough day, huh?”

      She waved a dismissive hand. “Not especially.”

      “Liar.”

      Mariella inhaled deeply. “I’m fine. I’m coping.”

      “I don’t think so.”

      She closed the laptop and glared at him. “Did you come here today to make me feel bad?”

      “Not at all,” Joe said. “Quite the opposite. I’m just concerned about you.”

      “Dios mío, I’m not some delicate flower.”

      Joe reached across and touched her hand, covering her fingers with his own. Mariella felt the connection deep down and quickly met his gaze. “I know you’re not. I know you’re strong and resilient.”

      Emotion clawed at her throat. Suddenly she didn’t feel strong. Or resilient. She felt like crying her eyes out. She felt like she was at the breaking point. She also felt like falling into Joe’s arms. She felt like forgetting all her troubles...even for a moment. And it shocked her.

      “It’s been a hard few weeks. With the accident and then my sons fighting outside the hospital and of course the engagement party. Thom’s aborted speech got tongues wagging. The gossip bloggers have been all over it.”

      He nodded. “I know, but it seems to have settled down now. How’s Elana?”

      “Still in Paris with Rafe.” She shrugged, looking to where their hands were pressed together. “Sometimes I’m not convinced that the wedding will actually happen.”

      “It will,” he assured her. “Thom and Elana are good for each other. He balances her out. I think it will work for them both.”

      “I hope so,” Mariella said. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep up this facade of having everything under control. To tell you

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