again. “True enough, but I like it. Keep this up and I’ll make it worth your while later.”
The innuendo was obvious, and Thom felt his skin heat. Elana was a flirt, no doubt about it, but he wasn’t usually on the receiving end of her flirtation. Even if it was for show, it still made him uncomfortable. Thom glanced toward Gabe and saw a brief flash of skepticism in the other man’s expression. But Gabe hid it well. Occupational hazard, he thought, figuring that the Fixer spent his life hiding who he was and what he did.
And Thom wished that making love with Elana would fix everything. But it wouldn’t.
“Everything okay here?”
Mariella.
The older woman approached and moved beside her nephew. Uneasiness crept up Thom’s spine. He liked and respected Elana’s mother, but en masse, the family was formidable.
“Elana was just saying how Thom wants to elope,” Gabe supplied.
“Really?” Mariella said, her mouth pressed into a thin line. “And what do you say, Elana?”
“I was just about to say,” Elana purred the words and leaned in toward him, “that as exciting as that sounds, there’s no way we could possibly do that without upsetting you and Thom’s parents. And Daddy,” she added, her voice suddenly quiet, “I mean, if he was here...and awake and able to...you know what I mean.”
Guilt pressed down on Thom’s shoulders. He knew how much Elana adored her father and tried to offer a few consoling words. “I’m sure he’s here in spirit, honey.”
Elana’s eyes filled with tears, and she blinked quickly. “I know. I just wish—”
“The wedding will go ahead as planned,” Mariella said firmly, cutting her off. “Arrangements have been made, venues booked, invitations sent out. It’s what we all want. What we planned. And remember that you are heading to Paris next Friday. Dior is expecting you to choose from their spring collection.”
Paris. That’s right. Elana was going on a shopping trip. Harrison Marshall’s daughter had her pick from the best fashion houses in Europe. Mariella had taken great pride in assuring that Elana had her pick from the latest collection. And no doubt his fiancée would spend her time and money equally at Saint Laurent, Givenchy and Dior. Their wedding was the event of the year on the social calendar. Hundreds of guests, the best catering, gowns direct from Paris...so no expense spared. Yeah, circus just about covered it. But if he knew Elana, he suspected she’d be scouring some of the edgier, more modern fashion houses while she was in Paris. And her next words confirmed it.
“I was thinking about heading to a few of the newer places,” Elana said and smiled. “You know, in the Boho district. Some of the places you’re suggesting are so...so...old-school.”
Mariella waved an impatient hand. “It’s already organized.”
“But, Mom, I—”
“You can do both. Remember, we need this wedding to show the world that we are still a tight unit, a family,” Mariella stressed. “So forget all this nonsense about eloping and start mingling with your guests. This is your engagement party,” she reminded them and then smiled. “And you two are not going to deprive me of the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity of seeing my darling daughter get married. I won’t hear of it.” She moved between them, draping an arm around them both for a moment. “Okay?”
Elana nodded. “You’re right, Mom.”
Mariella stepped back, releasing them, looking very pleased with herself. Of course, she would be, Thom thought. She’d won the round, with her best trained attack dog at her side. He noticed that Gabe was still watching them with a kind of veiled skepticism.
Thom wrapped an arm around his fiancée’s slender waist and pulled her close. She smelled so good, like flowers and apples. Beneath the scent of the Creed tuberose fragrance she wore, her signature shampoo was as familiar to him as his own breath, and he inhaled deeply, feeling the comfort and warmth of her seep through to his bones like a tonic. To the world she was Harrison Marshall’s spoiled and indulged daughter, often considered a flake and ridiculed or referred to unkindly in the media. But to Thom, she was his Elana. His best freaking friend in the whole world.
He would marry her. And he’d be faithful. He’d make it work. For both of them. He had to.
He had no other choice.
Elana was never going to admit to anyone that she had never really cared for Paris.
After all, it was Paris.
But she preferred the warmth and sunshine of California to the cool Parisian evenings. And she preferred her own room and the familiarity of her own things at Casa Cat. The truth was, she’d never been much of a traveler. But this trip was important to her mother, so she would make the best of it.
Besides, she had Rafe for company. Her brother had agreed to accompany her, and she was delighted to spend time with her favorite sibling. He wasn’t as serious and disapproving as Luc, or as brooding and mysterious as Gabe. Rafe understood her. And it went both ways. She knew their father disapproved of him, even though he feigned tolerance. But she’d always loved Rafe for who he was—a kind, compassionate and creative man who had so much to offer the world. They had the same sense of humor, enjoyed the same movies and music, and shared many of the same friends. Like Thom. She knew her brother supported her marriage and would always be her greatest ally in her family. And she loved him for always showing his support—even when he disagreed with her choices. Like Jarrod. But even if he scolded her, he would only ever do it in private. That was how it had always been between them.
And shopping at the best fashion houses on Boulevard Saint-Germain and Champs-Elysees wasn’t exactly a hardship. She’d been pampered and indulged for over two hours, selecting her trousseau with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. Retail therapy always worked when she was in a funk. And Rafe had promised to accompany her to Montmartre later that afternoon so she could explore some of her favorite shops without their mother’s disapproval casting a shadow from across the ocean. Plus, the explicit texts she been getting from Jarrod all morning had lightened her mood. The man certainly knew which buttons to push. Even if it did make her miss him like crazy. And want him. She couldn’t wait to be in his bed again. She craved him so much it hurt having so many miles between them. Surely he understood why she had to marry Thom. It was for the family. To preserve their reputation. To give the appearance of unity and strength. And she had her role to play, as everyone else did.
“You know,” Rafe drawled, glass in hand, ankles crossed as he stretched out on the brocade chaise across from her, “your French is way better than your Spanish. Why is that, I wonder?”
Elana shrugged her slender shoulders and offered him a cheeky grin. “Not as many expectations, I suppose.”
“You mean, because Mariella isn’t breathing down your neck telling you to enunciate your vowels,” he said, mimicking their mother’s husky voice, and they both laughed loudly.
Elana got her laughter under control and quickly met her brother’s gaze. “Why do you and Luc refer to her as Mariella? You know she hates it. And since you’re her favorite child...”
As her
