no. Well, yes, in a way,” Dr. Malone answered.
“Yes or no? Get to the point, please.”
“I have good news, Mrs. Santiago-Marshall. Dr. Aebischer, the doctor from Switzerland, just arrived at the clinic. He’s here to treat your husband.”
Mariella frowned. “But I thought he wasn’t able to work here—he said we’d have to transport Harrison to the clinic in Zurich?”
The administrator laughed. “Well, so did we, but it turns out his schedule has suddenly freed up and he is able to bring some of his equipment and materials. Much to our good fortune, wouldn’t you say?”
She wasn’t sure why the “good” news didn’t please her as it should. Her gaze darted to Gabe, who was staring back at her with those steady, inscrutable eyes. “Yes, it’s wonderful news. How soon can he start?”
“Right away, once you give your consent for him to examine Mr. Marshall.”
“Yes, of course. Give him immediate access.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Santiago-Marshall.”
Mariella lowered the phone, a little relieved at the readiness with which she’d given her consent. She wasn’t a bad person. She wanted the best for her husband. She wanted Harrison to wake up.
Although...
* * *
Gabe knew what was coming even before his aunt pressed End on her phone. Knew it and girded his loins against it. Mariella had grown suspicious of everything and everyone ever since she found out her husband hadn’t been as open and honest with her as she’d thought.
Suspicion was a good thing, up to a point. But he couldn’t afford for her to start probing too deeply into his affairs. He already knew she was obsessed with finding out who the Fixer was.
“Did you know that this Swiss doctor was coming to Santa Barbara?” came the predictable query. “According to Dr. Malone, he just turned up at the clinic,” she murmured.
He produced the shrug he’d been mentally practicing. “I all but ruled him out when he stormed off. But this is great news, right?” He smiled and ran his hand affectionately down his aunt’s arm. “Harrison now has the best care possible.”
Mariella returned her phone to her purse, straightened. When she smiled, it was genuine and a lot relieved. “God, yes. Finally, something is going our way. Can you believe it?”
“Sure I can. Uncle Harrison is a good man. He deserves only the best.” And he’d worked hard to make it happen. Dr. Aebischer now knew the consequences of saying no to the Fixer. It was a shame he’d had to find out the hard way.
A little carefully applied pressure, a hint of blackmail and a sudden investigation into his clinic’s practices by a particular medical board had seen the good doctor’s Swiss practice shut down for the foreseeable future.
Did Gabe care that several of the doctor’s patients in dire need of attention had been left in the lurch? Hell, no. When it came to his mentor and the only father figure he’d ever known, Gabe would breach the depths of hell itself for Harrison. And woe to anyone who dared stand in his way.
* * *
“Luc, the wedding planner’s here. Are you coming down?” Rachel’s voice filtered through from the hallway, preceding the sound of her footsteps.
In the bedroom, Luc clenched his teeth for a single second before he neutralized his features. He wished he could shake off the vile mood he’d been in since his sister’s wedding.
“Sure, I’ll be right there,” he called out, hoping that would stop her from coming in to find him.
It didn’t.
She appeared in the doorway of his dressing room, a wave of displeasure sliding over her face as she took in the towel wrapped around his waist. “Baby, you’re not even dressed! Stefano’s been waiting for ten minutes.”
Luc met her irritated gaze in the full-length mirror he’d been standing in front of for the last five minutes, staring at nothing, and tried to stem his own annoyance.
“I was kinda hoping, what it with being a rare Saturday off for me, to not have to go traipsing around wedding venues. And with respect to Stefano, we’re paying him to deliver a service, not the other way around. I don’t give a fuck how in demand he is. He can wait a damn minute for me to get my pants on.” Luc took his time to select a pair of Versace cargo pants, a black T-shirt and his favorite Italian loafers.
He was pulling his leather jacket from the hanger when she approached and stopped in front of him, a full-mouthed pout on display. Her small hand trailed up his abs to rest on his chest. “Luc, I’m the daughter of a congressman. I can’t just get married anywhere I please. There are expectations. This wedding has to be perfect. Besides, you promised you would do this for me, remember? That we would do this together.”
Yeah, a promise made when he was more than halfway to getting hammered after almost unmanning himself with that garter fuckup with Vanessa at Elana’s wedding. Even days after the incident, he couldn’t think about it without feeling equal amounts of arousal and humiliation.
Luc could barely remember the so-called promise he’d made to Rachel afterward on the way home. But he couldn’t bring it up now, not without the risk of setting off the volatile spark he’d seen in his fiancée’s eyes after the incident. No, that was one subject he was going to leave the hell alone. And if that involved pissing away his Saturday venue hunting, then so be it. But he didn’t intend to be joyous about it.
He tugged on his jacket and grabbed his wallet and phone.
“Lead the way, honey. I’m all yours,” he said with as much false enthusiasm as he could muster.
The pout disappeared, and her trademark killer smile made an appearance. She slid her arms around his neck and angled her hips against his crotch with unmistakable teasing intent. “I would get down on my knees right now and show my appreciation, baby, but—”
“The esteemed Stefano is waiting. Yeah, I got that.”
Undeterred by his droll tone, she rose on tiptoe and pressed her mouth against his. “I promise to blow your goddamn mind later. But for now, know that I love you, Luc Marshall. So much.”
He should return the sentiment. Say something equally mushy. But the words stuck in his throat. So instead, he slid his arm around her waist and pushed his tongue into her mouth. By the time he lifted his head a minute later, she was flushed and her eyes glazed.
He let her take his hand and lead him out of the dressing room and downstairs to meet Stefano, the wedding whisperer.
A mind-numbing forty-five minutes later, after their driver had meandered through enough hills to make Julie Andrews burst into ecstatic song, he looked up from his phone as they drove through the gates of a sprawling ranch that wouldn’t have looked out of place on that old show Dynasty his mother used to love watching.
He read the sign as they passed under it.
Red Horn Stud Farm
Jesus
