never had a problem telling me what to do and what you think about what I do.”
“Somebody has to,” Luc threw back.
Elana’s dark hair showered her bare shoulders as she tossed her head back and laughed. “Typical. You always have to be right.”
“Enough!”
All eyes turned toward the command and seemed to notice Joe for the first time.
“For Christ’s sake,” he hissed. He gestured angrily to the room behind them, glared from one to the next and stepped in between the warring factions. “We’re in a hospital, and I don’t care how private and secret it is—people have ears. Not to mention that your father is just a few feet away.”
Mariella blinked back her surprise. She’d never heard Joe raise his voice higher than a burst of laughter, nor had she ever seen that steely look in his eyes.
“For your mother’s sake,” he added with more calm, and settled his focus on Mariella.
Mariella’s tanned cheeks flushed. She pulled her imported Italian lace shawl tighter around her narrow shoulders.
“At least let’s get out of the hallway and go into the reception room for privacy,” Joe suggested.
* * *
The hot air slowly seeped from the room as the family split off to their respective corners, duly chastised.
Joe moved closer to Mariella, placed a firm hand of comfort on her shoulder and gave it a slight squeeze. She looked up into Joe’s eyes for reassurance. He gave her a short nod.
Mariella drew in a deep breath, regained her composure and her position as the de facto head of the family. Whatever misgivings she might have about her husband—and she had many—she would not let her family fall apart by allowing them to tear one another to pieces. No matter what their differences, they were family first. It was her responsibility now to keep them together and focused. And it was her fault for suggesting one of them was the Fixer in the first place.
“Joe’s right,” Mariella said. She pinned each of her children with her infamous mother glare. One by one their combative postures eased. They knew that when their mother shot them that look she was a breath away from one of her epic tirades, and no one would be spared. “This is not the time or the place. As much as I want to put my faith in the discretion of the staff here, we cannot risk them overhearing anything that shows any type of weakness or fracture in our family.” She slightly raised her chin. “Everyone has a price,” she added, knowing that her family understood exactly what she meant. “So we will smile, keep our voices down and act like we love each other. That means all of you.”
Elana flopped down on one of the overstuffed white leather side chairs that sat beneath a large expressionist abstract by Jackson Pollock. She crossed her long bare legs and dropped her Chanel purse next to her.
Luc turned toward the panoramic window that overlooked the lush grounds of Whispering Oaks. The one-way windows allowed one to see out, but every space inside the facility was shielded from prying eyes. He slung his hands into the pockets of his slacks and rocked his chiseled jaw.
Gabe, quiet as ever, stood off to the side, watching.
Rafe’s eyes settled on Joe’s hand that still rested on his mother’s shoulder. Unlike his self-absorbed sister and brother, Rafe’s attention focused on his mother and Joe. Joe’s seemingly assuring touch wasn’t as innocent as it appeared, no matter how Joe tried to play it. Joe lowered his hand to his side and moved slightly away from Mariella as if pulled by invisible strings. Rafe didn’t miss that, either.
Mariella centered herself in the room. She glanced from one child to the next. “As much as I’d like to pretend that this whole nightmare with your father was some freak accident, I can’t.”
“What do you mean?” Luc interjected, turning from his spot at the window. “What else could it be?
Mariella absently ran her long fingers through her hair. Violet-colored taaffeite studs sparkled in her lobes, and a single matching stone hung from a thin platinum chain around her neck giving the impression that the rare diamond sat magically at her throat. Both had been a twentieth-anniversary gift—Harrison had had them specially made when he’d visited Tanzania, the only place in the world other than Sri Lanka where the rare gem could be found. She fingered the stone at her throat. “The more I think about it, the more we can’t pretend this is some ordinary accident. Your father is an expert driver. He always has been, and he’s raced around that highway for decades.
“And there is someone working behind the scenes—the Fixer. We don’t know who the Fixer is or what their agenda is,” she said while her free hand gestured in the air. “For all we know, it could be a move to somehow get their claws on Marshall International, starting with getting...rid of your father.”
Luc’s eyes narrowed. Elana sat up straighter, and Rafe’s lean frame tensed.
“Why would this person want to hurt Dad?” Luc asked.
“You really believe that, Mom?” Rafe asked. “But the Fixer set up that fake interview to show Dad was recovering.”
Mariella shook her head. “I don’t know, but there’s something else. There’s an account that has nothing to do with the business.” The room grew deathly silent. She’d debated whether or not to tell her children what she’d accidentally come across. But they needed to know.
Gabe spoke up for the first time. “Account?”
Mariella smiled at her surrogate son. As much as she tried to downplay it, Rafe was her favorite, but her nephew had a special place in her heart. Gabe’s devotion to Harrison made his own flesh and blood pale in comparison. She extended her hand to him.
Gabe walked toward his aunt and took her hand, lifted it to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “Tía, what account?”
Joe cleared his throat. “I think I should explain.”
Luc folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the wall. “Please do.”
“After the accident your mother found a bank statement in your dad’s jacket. It was from a bank in the Cayman Islands.”
Luc was incredulous. “That’s...offshore banking, a way to hide money. Dirty money.”
“I wasn’t sure what it was, so I showed it to Joe,” Mariella cut in. “I felt that with Joe being Harrison’s business partner, he might know what it all means.”
“The statement is several months old,” Joe continued. “But the account is clearly active. There’s more than a hundred million dollars in it,” he added. “That’s why I decided to tell you about the Fixer.”
Elana jumped up from her seat. Her purse clattered to the floor. “Wait a minute. A hundred million?”
“A hundred million dollars?” Rafe echoed in disbelief. “Would this offshore account and his business with the Fixer have anything to do with his accident?”
“Perhaps. That’s what I intend to find out,” Joe continued. “But I can tell you all that it won’t be easy. Those kinds of accounts are set up to stop exactly what I’m
