furor about the wedding would come before the occasion. This was turning out to be the bullshit after the storm. How could the media treat her this way? Not a single one of the wedding guests had turned down the lavish gifts offered to them. Many had even tweeted and Instagrammed their good fortune. Every single person who’d attended the Marshall-Scott wedding had left happy.
Except the media’s portrayal of it suggested the opposite, ripping into them about every tiny aspect of her daughter’s special day. How unnecessarily extravagant the whole affair had been. One had even called the whole thing gaudy, for heaven’s sake.
And not just that.
So what if she’d blown the twice the budget she’d intended to spend? They’d worked damn hard to earn every single dime of that money.
Hadn’t they?
The thought brought her up short, reminding her there was so much she’d taken for granted that she hadn’t known before. Renewed anger flashed through her bloodstream. Was there something the media knew that she didn’t? Something else waiting in the wings to sink its poisonous fangs into her vulnerable existence?
“Damn right it upsets me! Why aren’t you upset? Look at this.” She stormed over to the desk and thrust the tablet in his face, let him see for himself the damning headlines blazing across the screen. “They’re not letting this go. All the newspapers have been ripping the wedding to shreds, and it’s been over a week since Elana and Thom got married. This wedding was supposed to reestablish us as being stronger than ever. That we were forging ahead despite our adversities. Instead, they print this crap!” She almost spat at the words blazing at her.
Marshalls Flaunt Shameless Wealth While Harrison Lies Dying!
Marshall Bride Dragged to Wedding as Groom Suffers Cold Feet
A Diamond for Every Guest? Get Real, Elana Marshall!
Has Mariella Won the Crown of Most Garish, Over-the-Top Society Wedding?
“Garish! How can they take something so beautiful and trash it like this? There’s nothing in there about how beautiful my baby girl looked on her wedding day. Nothing about the love and laughter in the room. All everyone’s talking about is how much money we spent! What the hell business is it of anyone’s how much the wedding cost? It’s not as if we stole or borrowed it.” But could she say that with absolute conviction?
“Tía—”
“And what is this crap about Harrison lying dying? The news anchor’s report was supposed to shut down endless speculation.”
Gabe leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desk. “The paparazzi will always go for the most attention-grabbing headlines. You know that. This will all blow over very soon.”
Mariella shook her head, anger and panic welling up higher inside her. “I don’t think it will, Gabe. Not this time. And not until Harrison wakes up, at least.”
“Keep calm, Tía. Give it another week and it’ll be yesterday’s news.”
Mariella tossed the tablet onto the sofa, uncaring that it almost bounced to the floor. Hands on hips, she stalked back to where her nephew sat.
“That’s just the problem. What if this time next week, they’re still on this...this witch hunt? What if it’s even worse by then? They’re already damaging our brand, Gabe. A few of the hacks have started speculating as to whether our restaurants are overpriced. They’re questioning the quality of our business, whether we bribed our way into our last Michelin star. Can you believe that nonsense? It hasn’t affected our bottom line in any substantial way, yet, but I’m not prepared to sit back and watch them decimate our brand or our livelihood. Hell, a few of them are even wondering if with Harrison out of the way, I have what it takes to keep the business going. The utter gall of them!”
Gabe shrugged, still nonchalant. “Then give them something else to talk about.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Surely you don’t mean another scandal? If so, need I remind you that there are still questions about Harrison’s health?”
“Of course I don’t mean an exposé on Uncle Harrison. Come on, give me some credit. I meant give them something positive to talk about. Something that will either impress the pants off them or bore them out of their minds so they move to something or someone more salacious.”
Mariella took a few minutes to mull the suggestion over. Then she snapped her fingers. “That’s a brilliant idea, although I’m more in favor of impressing them, since apparently my daughter’s tasteful and beautiful wedding didn’t quite make the cut. We could throw a charity gala.”
Gabe’s nod was less than enthusiastic. “Or something more exciting?”
She tapped her forefinger on her bottom lip. “Well, it’s October. Halloween is almost here. Last year the Templetons threw a killer Halloween party that had everyone talking for weeks. But I know I can do it so much bigger and better...” Her finger tapped faster. “How about a masquerade ball somewhere attention grabbing? A-list invites only, of course. We sell the tickets and give the proceeds to charity. They can’t very well throw me to the wolves when there’s a worthwhile charity involved, can they?”
This time her nephew’s agreement was more energetic. “No, they can’t. And this could work very well. I have a few contacts in the media who owe me favors. I’ll make sure they’re invited. That way we’re guaranteed fair reviews.”
Mariella’s lip pursed, her hands back on her curvy hips. Against her stylish, off-white Chanel skirt suit, her perfectly manicured nails flashed an icy pale pink. “I don’t want fair. I want wow in capital letters and goddamn exclamation points.” She jerked her thumb at the discarded tablet. “I want those headlines to be wiped from everyone’s memory as soon as humanly possible.”
Gabe cracked a smile. “You ask for the world, Tía, and I will deliver it to you. Starting right now.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket.
Placated and less panicked now, Mariella even managed a small smile of her own. “You’re so good to me, querido. I don’t know where I’d be without you.”
He looked up from his phone. “I promise you, you’ll never have to find out.”
They shared a solemn, bonding look. Then a ringing phone shattered the atmosphere. It was her personal cell phone. Mariella turned and headed for the large wall cabinet where she’d dropped her purse. As she fished the phone out, apprehension gripped her nape.
Then she exhaled sharply when her fears were confirmed. “It’s the clinic,” she blurted, fear climbing into her throat and paralyzing her.
What if Harrison had taken a turn for the worse? Or, equally disturbing, what if he’d woken up? In that exact moment, Mariella wasn’t sure which scenario she preferred. Dios mío, was she a bad person to even wonder about that?
“Answer it, Tía.” Gabe was standing beside her, calm and composed as ever, his voice a touch authoritative. In that moment, he reminded her a little of her husband.
Her finger slid across the screen and she raised the handset to her ear. “Mariella Santiago-Marshall.”
“Mrs. Santiago-Marshall. I hope I’m not disturbing you—”
“You’re
