me for years, Gabe thought silently. Decades-old anger made his gut clench, and he worked to keep his features placid. He’d thought they were best friends once. He’d been wrong. Luc had never seen him as anything more than a poor relation, a charity case taken in by the Marshalls and offering nothing in return.
But Gabe had made himself indispensable. He was the real power, and he’d protect his place in the business no matter who opposed him.
His aunt had always favored him. Part of why he’d taken on so much was to make himself worthy of all that Mariella had given him. At the end of the day, she and Harrison were the only two that counted.
Luc could be managed. Everyone could be managed. That was the Fixer’s expertise.
“I’ll keep searching for information,” Gabe told his cousin, earning a paternal nod that made his jaw ache with simmering tension.
“Keep me updated on any developments.” Luc made a show of checking his watch, clearly communicating that Gabe was being dismissed.
“I came to the house to speak to your mother,” he said before Luc had the chance to actually send him away. “Have you seen her?”
“Vanessa said...” Luc began then paused and cleared his throat. “The last I heard she was out at the pool. You might start there.”
“Thanks.” Gabe started down the hall that led to the rear of the mansion.
Luc could believe whatever he wanted about who was in charge. Gabe knew he was the one calling the shots. The thought calmed him. With a slight smile at how shocked everyone would be to learn the truth, he went searching for his aunt.
* * *
Mariella’s pulse raced as Joe trailed kisses along her neck and down into the deep V of her bikini top. She should stop this now, but Joe’s mouth on her body felt so good.
Backing up until her legs hit the soft fabric of the bed’s comforter, she kept her fingers interlaced with Joe’s. Concerned about being seen from the mansion’s windows, she’d led her husband’s best friend away from the pool, through the house and to her bedroom.
The bedroom she’d shared with Harrison for more years than she cared to count.
A sliver of guilt snaked a path along her spine, quickly chased away by Joe’s deep kisses.
“Christ, you’re beautiful,” he whispered, slowing tugging down her gauzy wrap then pushing the straps of the bikini off her shoulders. His warm fingers grazed her cool skin.
Although he was a Harvard-educated attorney, Joe was built like an Irish street fighter. He and Harrison were of a similar height, but Joe’s shoulders were wider, his chest broad and muscled even in middle age. His hands felt strong, sturdy and ridiculously tempting as they traveled her body.
She reached behind her to pull down the covers and sank back on the bed. Joe followed, but instead of covering her with his body, he knelt over her as if he was afraid to actually touch her in any intimate way.
Mariella had been faithful to Harrison all the years of her marriage. She’d never once been tempted to stray. And while people still lauded her beauty, she wasn’t twenty-five anymore. Her body showed signs of age that could no longer be camouflaged by expensive creams or trips to either the best dermatologists in Beverly Hills or Luc’s exclusive plastic surgery clinic.
For a moment, embarrassment washed over her. How could she be here exposing her fifty-five-year-old body to a man who hadn’t known what she looked like in her prime? It was one thing to grow old alongside someone, but when it was so new...
Then she glanced up to Joe’s face—to the man she’d known as long as she’d known her husband—and her breath caught. There were no words that could describe the mix of desire and possessiveness revealed in his eyes.
“You make me feel like I’m fifteen again,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I don’t even know where to begin.”
She took one of his big hands in hers. Her heart leaped to find that his fingers trembled as she lifted it and placed it over her breast.
“Mariella,” he murmured, and her name on his lips was beautiful. He leaned in and claimed her mouth again. As he did, his thumb grazed her sensitive nipple.
Her body grew heavy, and a moan rose in her throat. The noise—both blessed and damned—jolted her back to reality. She was on the verge of inviting a man who wasn’t her husband into her bed.
The lusty moan turned into a strangled cry as she wrenched herself away and rushed toward the dresser on the opposite wall, pulling up her bathing suit straps as she moved.
“Mariella,” he said again, and this time it was a plea.
“I can’t,” she said on a sob, fighting back tears. She would not cry. This was wrong. She was a married woman. Joe was Harrison’s best friend. It had to be the stress they were under, she told herself, although she knew it was a lie.
Pulling in a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and turned to face Joe. His tie was loosened and askew. Several buttons of his shirt were undone, the hem untucked where she’d yanked it from his suit pants. Even now the glimpse of his bare chest made her mouth go dry.
“I’m a horrible person,” she whispered and held up a hand as Joe took a step toward her. “Don’t,” she told him. “When you touch me, I forget everything except how I feel. I’m a married woman. What was I thinking?”
He ran a hand through his hair, leaving the ends sticking up at adorable angles that made her want to smooth her fingers over them. But it wasn’t her place. Joe Reynolds didn’t belong to her, and she sure as hell didn’t belong to him.
“You weren’t thinking,” he told her gently. “You said the word that describes this. You were feeling, Mariella. And following your heart.” His voice lowered as he added, “I know where my heart lies, and it’s with you.”
She shook her head, unwilling to admit the truth in his words. “That’s crazy. I love my husband, and he’s injured. He needs me more than ever.” He only continued to study her. “Did you hear me? I said I love him.”
“I know you do,” he answered after a moment, slowly buttoning his shirt. “But he doesn’t deserve you, sweetheart. He never did.”
Mariella sniffed. “Harrison does his best.” In truth, they still made love often. But as for passion...well, they weren’t newlyweds anymore.
Joe moved toward her slowly, as if approaching a caged animal. Mariella wasn’t sure whether to be moved by the care with which he treated her or offended that he thought her weak enough to need kid gloves.
“I don’t want to pressure you.” He reached for her hand, lifted her fingers to his lips and placed a gentle kiss on each knuckle. “The last thing I want is to cause you pain.”
“I know,” she assured him, her heart stammering at the reverence in his touch. “You’ve been my rock through all of this, Joe. You’re a good friend. You always have been.”
“I want to be there for you, Mariella.” He squeezed her fingers. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted. You know that, right?”
