by Maya Blake
Ana raised an eyebrow. “Are you having the staff spy on me now, Mariella?”
“I wasn’t aware your movements in my house were a state secret.”
Ana locked gazes with her for minute, then flipped her perfectly curled hair over her bare shoulders. “Not to worry, my beauty sleep is all topped up. I’m good to go. So—” she turned to a hovering Vanessa “—I’ll have a caipirinha with an extra twist of lime. And tell the chef not to use overripe limes, would you? The ones she made me earlier all tasted off.”
Mariella really didn’t need to know that her sister had spent most of the day drinking. It only meant that navigating any conversation with her now would be like walking a minefield.
“Will you be joining us for dinner, too? Only the chef needs to be informed,” she said.
Her sister smiled wide. “Of course. I’m dressed for it, aren’t I? Do you like what I’m wearing, Gabe?” She turned back to her son, brushing her fingers on his shirt cuff to get his attention.
Gabe sipped his cognac before he glanced her way. “You look fine, Ana.”
She made a small moue of disappointment, but her smile was back again a moment later. “So, what are we talking about?”
None of your damned business, Mariella wanted to snap. She was saved from doing so by the sound of a sports car roaring up the drive.
“Ah, finally. Let the good times roll in.”
“For fuck’s sake, Luc. Childish much?” Elana muttered under her breath. Mariella noticed she hadn’t touched her mineral water.
“What?” Luc griped.
“You know exactly what, Luc. I’d thank you to keep your sniping with your brother under control tonight,” Mariella snapped.
“Calm down, Mariella, it’s just a little harmless banter,” Ana said.
Mariella glared at her sister. “I don’t need your advice on how to be a mother to my own children, Ana. Not from you, anyway.”
The direct hit made her sister’s smug smile drop. Her face went a little pale as she stiffened. She glanced at her son as if silently asking for support.
Gabe drained his glass and rose smoothly to his feet. “Shall we go inside?” he said to no one in particular.
Mariella wasn’t sure whether to be pissed that he was choosing to remain neutral. But she stood anyway and picked up her untouched martini.
They were walking through the living room when Vanessa approached bearing a tray.
“Your cocktail, ma’am,” she said to Ana.
Ana flicked a dismissive hand at her. “Bring it into the dining room.”
“Yeah, because you can’t walk and hold a drink at the same time,” Mariella muttered under her breath.
Only she wasn’t as quiet as she thought. Luc sniggered. Even Elana’s tense mouth twitched with a smirk. Gabe raised his eyebrows at her.
Vanessa’s face remained absolutely neutral as Ana’s tightened.
Mariella sighed under her breath. She wasn’t going to take it back. But she was going to ignore her sister for the rest of the evening. It was either that or explode into a million little pieces.
Thankfully, Rafe walked through the door at that moment.
“Sorry, I’m late, Mom. Traffic on the PCH was crappier than normal.”
She accepted his kiss on her cheek and patted his arm. “It’s fine. All you missed was the cocktails.”
“He missed a little more than that, but what the hell?”
“That’s enough, Luc.”
Rafe’s gaze moved from one member of his family to the next, his expression turning wary as he sensed the tension. “What’s going on?”
“Another stimulating Marshall get-together, what else?” Elana offered.
“Don’t we have enough on our plates to deal with without this childishness?” Mariella snapped.
Varying degrees of muttered apologies came her way. Without responding, she turned around and headed for the family dining room. Out of respect and fondness for Harrison, she’d sat at her usual seat to the right of the head of the table for all the meals since Harrison’s accident. Today, she marched to the head of the table and took her husband’s seat. If she truly intended to take control, she needed to establish her power in all areas.
“Gabe, Luc, sit next me, would you?” she directed them. “Rafe, Elana, you sit next to your brother and cousin.” She sounded authoritarian, but it seemed her family needed more of an iron fist than she’d thought.
She didn’t bother to tell her sister where to sit. She knew Ana would either ignore her or make a huge production out of it. Nevertheless, she gritted her teeth when Ana chose the seat directly opposite her at the bottom of the table.
They all kept silent as Vanessa scrambled to reset a place for Ana. Moments later, her head chef, Joy, entered to serve the first course.
Mariella eyed the young woman whose face was pinched in a picture of displeasure. Shit. It seemed nothing would go her way tonight. She hadn’t forgotten about her chef’s subtle acts of insubordination over the past few weeks. Mariella still hadn’t addressed Joy’s no-show at Elana’s wedding, despite her express wish for all the staff to attend.
Right now, though, the chef was a little lower on her pecking order of situations to take care of. So she held her tongue and waited until the Wagyu beef tartlet with horseradish sauce were served.
“So, we’re all here, Mom. What did you want to discuss?” Elana asked. Mariella wondered whether she thought she was fooling anyone by pushing her food around her plate that way.
“I wanted to make sure you’ve all cleared your schedules for the trip to Vegas.”
“I could’ve told you that over the phone, Mom,” Luc said.
“Because you have somewhere more important to be than right here supporting this family?” Mariella inquired coolly.
Her son had the grace to look embarrassed. “No. You know I’m all for what you’re planning.”
“But?”
“But do we really need to hightail it here every time you have a new idea? This is the third time this week.”
Mariella set down her fork with careful precision. “I see. You think I’m being overly fussy? Maybe even overexcited?” she demanded coldly.
“Mom—”
“Anyone else believe I’m making too big a deal out of this occasion? Maybe I should just sit back and watch the family business crumble to the ground, huh?”
“Tía, he didn’t say that,” Gabe attempted to placate her.
She turned on him. “Didn’t he? All everyone has done is bitch.” She glanced at her daughter. “Some of us can’t even summon the energy to do that.”
Elana winced. “I’ve been a little busy...with stuff, Mom.”
Mariella ignored her. “Rafe? Do you have an opinion on this, too? Let’s hear it.”
Rafe’s shrug was equally unenthusiastic. “I’ve said I’ll be there, and I will. Just tell me what to do when the time comes.”
Luc made a sound under his breath that suspiciously like a sheep’s bleat. Rafe glared at him and flipped him the bird.
Mariella stared from the one to the other as her temperature rose to inferno point. Dear God, had they always been one step away from dysfunctional and she hadn’t noticed? Or had Harrison’s accident produced this unfortunate effect in her family?
“I think Vegas will be fantastic! I for one, can’t wait,” Ana chimed in as she helped herself to a newly uncorked bottle of Châteauneuf. “How long will we be there for? I’ll start putting my outfits together tomorrow.”
As much as she wanted to ignore Ana, Mariella couldn’t stop herself from replying. “This is Marshall family business. Maybe you should wait until you’re invited?”
“You intend to invite strangers to watch you open your precious nightclub and host your ball, b
ut you won’t invite your own sister?”
Mariella wasn’t surprised her sister knew the details of her Vegas plans. Ana had always been too resourceful for her own good. Shame she didn’t use that skill to better herself instead of indulging in drugs and booze.
“They’re paying guests. You’re not.”
Ana inhaled sharply. For a moment, Mariella felt bad. But she got over it quickly when a malicious look entered her sister’s eye.
“You think I can’t afford a ticket to your precious shindig?”
Mariella opened her mouth to say exactly that. Gabe beat her to it. “I saw your email about the proposed ribbon cutting on Friday for the nightclub. Do you want to discuss that further, Tía?”
She dragged her gaze from the challenge in her sister’s eyes and glanced at her nephew. Why couldn’t the rest of her family be as collected and dependable as her Gabe? Except he wasn’t completely hers, was he? She might have his love and devotion, but a huge chunk of him belonged to her sister.
“Ribbon cutting sounds like fun,” Elana added. Perhaps her daughter was feeling guilt for her lack of enthusiasm. Perhaps she wanted this dinner over and done with as quickly as everyone else seemed to want it be.
She could continue to be pissed off about it, or she could do what she’d intended to do by summoning them here in the first place.
“Yes, I thought it would make the most impact if combined with the red carpet sound bites from our invited guests. The publicity team has also lined up a few Vegas powerhouses to be there. The cast of the latest Cirque du Soleil show have agreed to perform a ten-minute display before the opening, complete with fireworks, drums...the whole nine yards.”
Ana’s eyebrows went up, and she seemed genuinely impressed. “That’s quite the coup, sister. Don’t you think so, you guys?” she asked the rest of the table.
Luc finally lost a little of his insolent look. He even managed a positive nod. “Rachel loves that Cirque du Soleil shit,” he said with a smirk.
“Glad you approve,” Mariella said.
“It sounds great, Mom,” Rafe said with a warm smile.
Her racing pulse settled a little.
“So we leave at 3:00 p.m. sharp on Friday. We’re taking the corporate jet. You’ll all be there. No excuses, yes?”
She received a series of nods, including Ana’s very brazen one. “I’ll be there with bells on.”
Mariella bit her tongue. She’d had a hellish few days. She didn’t doubt she was in for a few more if this nightclub opening and masquerade ball were to go off without a hitch. Ana was itching for a fight, but Mariella refused to dip into her reserves to indulge her sister.
“Good.”
* * *
Vanessa heard the subtle scuffling of feet moments before the firmer click of heels approached the living room. She straightened from where she’d been arranging cushions and pinned a smile on her face.
For the last week, the staff had been doing a great job of making themselves scarce whenever Mariella appeared. Vanessa sympathized, because her employer was on a blistering warpath. She had been ever since she announced her plans to stage this event in Vegas. They all breathed a sigh of relief when she left for the office, but since today was Thursday, the day before the whole family left for Vegas, Mariella was home, putting together her wardrobe for the trip. And snapping at the smallest foible.
While the staff hid out of sight, Vanessa had no such luck. Mariella more often than not made a beeline for her whether her request was for the gardener, the chef or the driver.
It also helped that she was good at her job, that most times she could anticipate Mariella’s needs before she even knew she had them. Vanessa accepted that her desire to please Mariella stemmed from the secret still lodged in her heart. Would she ever gather enough courage to reveal it?
She took a deep breath and composed her face as Mariella entered the room.
“Did my gowns arrive yet?” her employer demanded, barely looking up from the screen of her phone.
“The Atelier Versace ones for the nightclub opening were delivered ten minutes ago, but the Givenchy and Dior ones for the ball will be here late Friday night, Mrs. Santiago-Marshall.”
“Fine. You’ll have to bring them to me in Vegas first thing Saturday morning. Check with Gabe about using the corporate jet.” Mariella wrinkled her nose. “You don’t need to keep calling me Mrs. Santiago-Marshall. Mariella will do fine,” she said briskly.
Vanessa barely managed to stop her jaw from dropping to the floor. “I...okay, Mariella.”
“And the masks I ordered from Italy?”
“The jet will land at four, and they’ll be here by five.”
“Great.” She turned around, started to walk back out of the room. “Tell the driver to be ready to take me to the bank in twenty minutes. This occasion calls for the Chopard set Harrison keeps for me in the bank vault.”
“I’ll make sure he’s ready for you, Mariella.”
Vanessa’s heart lifted and lurched in her chest as her employer started to smile.
That smile disappeared a second later, along with Vanessa’s effervescent mood, when Joy, the head chef, walked into the room.
Joy had mentioned earlier that she would come find Vanessa to discuss the evening meal with her in the hopes that Vanessa would pass the message on to Mariella. Being caught in the middle of the tensions between her employer and the chef sucked, but it was much better this way if it prevented the fireworks that had been brewing for weeks.
When she saw the chef tense warily in the doorway, Vanessa wondered if she’d escape unscathed this time. For a second, she watched the other woman debate whether to turn and walk back out as Mariella lowered her phone and fixed her narrowed eyes on the chef.
But then Joy lifted her chin. “I hope your lunch was satisfactory, Mariella?”
“No, it wasn’t, actually. The salmon was a little dry. And the salsa verde had too much olive oil in it. You know how oily foods upset my stomach. I thought we talked about it?”
The chef’s hands curled into loose fists, and even though her eyes gleamed her displeasure, her face remained composed. “Four tablespoons per cup of salsa. That’s what I put in it. As per your instructions,” she tagged on.
Mariella’s lips pursed. “No, I said two, not four. Perhaps you should’ve written it down instead of thinking you’ll remember such pertinent facts for later.”
“I didn’t forget, Mariella. You said four.”
“Then why the hell did the salsa taste like crap?”
Furious heat surged into Joy’s face as silence descended in the living room. “I’m sorry if you think it wasn’t up to scratch—”
“A lot of things haven’t been up to scratch lately, Joy. Last week, the oysters were oversalted. Seriously, who even salts oysters? If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were deliberately sabotaging the meals.”
Joy gasped, her face flaming with anger. “I beg your pardon? I would never do something like that.”
Mariella calmly propped one hand on her hip. “And yet it’s happening. Word of advice—if you wish to stay in my employ, you need to check yourself. My patience has its limits, and you’ve already tested them severely. And stop addressing me so informally. Until I give you permission, you are not to address me by my first name. I am Mrs. Santiago-Marshall.”
Without waiting for a response, she sailed out of the room.
Joy’s angry, bewildered gaze followed her down the hall. If her gaze could’ve summoned poisoned arrows, Vanessa knew Mariella would be dead.
When Joy whirled back around to face her, Vanessa sent her a sympathetic smile.
“Can you believe that woman?” Joy exclaimed.
“She...she’s under a lot of pressure.”
“And that justifies being a tota
l bitch to everyone in sight?” she demanded.
Vanessa bit her tongue, told herself it was better to be quiet. She didn’t understand why the chef continued to remain in the Marshalls’ employ if she was this unhappy. She was talented and would be snapped up the moment she walked away.
Whereas she...there was no way she could walk away. Not when she’d made it this far. Not when she still needed to confess to Mariella that she wasn’t just her housekeeper, but her daughter.
Chapter Three
Mariella alighted from the limo, a bright but purposeful smile pinned to her face as the paparazzi’s bulbs exploded all around her. Gabe had come through and made sure the media knew where and when to be.
She turned and smiled at Elana and Thom as they stepped out beside her. Gabe followed, buttoning his jacket. Almost in unison, they all slid on their sunglasses.
From the SUV behind her, Luc and Rachel also stepped out, then Rafe pulled up in his Maserati. Mariella’s mood dimmed a little as Ana stepped out of Rafe’s car and waved to the gathered crowd. Despite the unseasonal heat, she looked cool and drop-dead gorgeous in another jumpsuit, this one a one-shouldered red number, highlighted by sparkling gold jewelry.
Mariella knew she also looked spectacular in her jade-green pantsuit, but she was irritated by the number of cameras swinging her sister’s way.
Despite planning not to indulge in a Q&A with the media, she couldn’t resist when one shouted a question at her.
“All I’m going to say is that this is going to be a weekend to remember. We intend to put on a fantastic show. I’d say miss it at your peril, but I know you guys will all be there.”
They laughed.
She laughed.
But as she turned to enter the terminal, she couldn’t stop her mind from hooking onto the other problem they’d shoved under the carpet this week. The problem she’d had more than a few nightmares about.
The Fixer was still out there. Silent. Biding time?
What if the Fixer chose this weekend to strike? What if, at this very minute, he too was making plans to ruin everything she’d worked so hard for?
