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Chapter One

He’s awake.

Harrison is awake.

Mariella Santiago-Marshall hurried down the corridor of Whispering Oaks, her heels playing an off-tune staccato beat to the rest of her family’s as they raced after her. She tried to draw comfort from their presence as they headed for Harrison’s room. But her heart was beating too hard, her insides churning anxiously with what awaited them.

Harrison was awake, which meant she would finally get a few much-needed answers. But would she like those answers? Would her beloved husband redeem himself with his words, or would what he had to say drive a deeper wedge in the family she feared was fracturing beyond repair?

The other question, the one she’d tried to hide from but hadn’t been able to avoid lately was, what about her and what she’d done with Joe? How could she look Harrison in the eyes now without exposing herself as a cheater, too? Was she a good enough actress to hide her sins from the man she’d been intimate with for several decades? The man who’d fathered her children?

Her steps slowed as she reached the closed doors.

So much had changed in so short a time. She knew without a shadow of a doubt that she wasn’t the same woman who’d raced to her husband’s side that first day following his accident. Trouble was, would Harrison be able to live with the new Mariella?

Only one way to find out.

Hand shaking, she grasped the handle, swallowed and turned it.

A strong male hand touched the small of her back. She started a little, at once relieved and disappointed when she turned to find Luc beside her rather than Joe. She smiled at her son before her gaze flicked to Joe. Her lover’s gaze met hers, but the look in his eyes was a little hard to read. Much like how she was feeling, she couldn’t tell whether he was pleased or anxious about the news of Harrison’s return to consciousness. For one blind second, she wanted to go to him, comfort him.

Of course she did no such thing. Instead, she braced herself and pushed the door open.

Dr. Aebischer and a clutch of nurses stood clustered around Harrison’s bed, barring her immediate view of her husband.

She quickened her footsteps. “Harrison?” Her voice emerged as shaky as she felt, perhaps because she knew nothing would ever be the same again. She straightened her spine as she crossed the last few steps to her husband’s bedside. And found him just as unresponsive as he’d been yesterday.

She frowned. “Harrison?” Her voice was sharper this time, because now that she could see him better, he looked even worse than he’d been before.

“What the hell is going on, Doctor?” Rafe demanded, his frowning gaze moving from Dr. Aebischer to Harrison’s prone form.

“You told us my father was awake,” Luc accused, turning to face the doctor.

Dr. Aebischer pocketed the penlight he’d been shining in Harrison’s eyes and cleared his throat. “And he was. For a brief period, he was conscious and aware of his surroundings.”

“But?” Mariella demanded, her hand gripping the foot of the bed frame for support as her gaze flitted over the beeping machines and returned to Harrison. From where she was standing, nothing had changed. Surely if he’d woken up there would be some positive signs?

“Is he...is he...?” Elana stumbled toward the bed, her hand pressed against her mouth, unable to complete the sentence everyone was too afraid to ask. When her chest began to rise and fall in agitation, Thom laid a calming hand on her shoulder.

“He’s still alive, but I’m afraid he’s slipped back into his coma,” Dr. Aebischer informed them.

“But how is that possible? Weren’t you supposed to bring him out of his coma and keep him out?” Luc snarled, his hands bunched into tight fists.

“There are certainly positive signs. His brain activity is heightened, which gives me cause to be cautiously optimistic—”

“We’re not paying you for your optimism,” Rafe barked.

Mariella shook her head, unable to drag her gaze from Harrison’s still body. She wanted to stalk around to his side and beat her hand against his chest. Scream at him to wake up. Minutes ago, she hadn’t been sure whether she wanted to face him. But with even that uncertainty now shattered, anger and frustration bubbled like a lethal cocktail within her.

“You say he woke up briefly? How long was briefly?” Joe asked. He’d quietly maneuvered his way to her side. And although he didn’t put his hand on her, Mariella felt his solid presence and quiet support. Felt it and guiltily welcomed it. She let the sensation seep into her depleted spirit as she stared defiantly at her husband. Her very comatose husband.

“A matter of minutes. As was to be expected, he was confused—”

“Did he say anything?” Gabe demanded.

Dr. Aebischer shook his head. “We didn’t get the chance to take the tube out of his mouth before he fell back under. I’m sorry this all proved to be a false alarm. I got the nurses to call you back to let you know, but you were already on your way here.”

“So this was all a fucking waste of time, is that what you’re saying?” Luc growled.

“Well...” Dr. Aebischer started.

Mariella straightened. “I take it there’s nothing more to be done for him right now?”

“Except make him comfortable and keep monitoring him, no.”

Rafe swore under his breath. Elana suppressed a quiet sob and wilted against Thom. Joe took a half step closer to Mariella. Luc paced in a tight circle, his anger barely contained. Gabe just leaned against the wall, his arms folded as his gaze rested on Harrison.

Her family.

Hers.

It was time to stop sitting back and hoping for the best. It was time to take control.

“Give us the room, Doctor.” She infused her voice with enough grit to make sure he understood it wasn’t a request. “And tell your staff that we don’t want to be disturbed.”

If the doctor found her request a little strange, he chose not to voice it. They weren’t paying him for mindless chitchat.

She felt the weighted stares of her family as Dr. Aebischer left the room but waited until the doctor’s footsteps had stopped echoing before she strolled around to the top of her husband’s bed. For a moment she stood looking down at him.

“Mom, what’s going on?” Rafe prompted.

With a deep breath, she turned around. “We can’t keep going on like this. We can’t wait for your father to wake up.”

Elana gasped, her face going a pasty white. “What? You’re not going to pull the plug on him, are you? I—we won’t let you—”

“Dios mío, of course I’m not going to pull the plug on him! Why would you even think that?” She frowned. What on earth was wrong with Elana? She’d been acting oddly since she got back from her honeymoon, with her emotions seesawing all over the place. God, she hoped she wasn’t flaking out at being married already. She would need to keep a closer eye on her. Something else that needed taking care of.

She stared at her daughter until Elana gave a tight-lipped nod. “Sorry... I just...this is so hard,” Elana said.

Mariella suppressed a sigh. “It’s fine. We’re all under a lot of pressure. Which is exactly my point. We’ve been hoping for a miracle, one that might yet happen. Who knows? But we need to mitigate that with a little bit of reality.”

Luc frowned. “What does that mean?”

“We can’t just sit around, waiting for your father to wake up and save us.”

“I didn’t realize we needed saving,” he bit out.

“Then you need to dig your head out of the sand, Luc.”

Luc’s jaw clenched, but he knew better than to talk back to his mother.

Mariella’s gaze shifted from one son to the other, then to the other occupants of the room. Gabe was no longer leaning against the wall, but his arms were still crossed, his gaze watchful.

“As we discussed over dinner, the Marshall brand is suffering. The tabloids are ripping us apart every chance they get. They can’t make up their minds whether Harrison is dead or he’s run off and abandoned us. It’s a goddamn circus out there, and we’re the star attraction.”

“Mariella, I don’t think—”

She held up a halting hand. “No, Joe, I’m sorry, but I won’t be convinced that things aren’t that bad. They are,” she snapped. She didn’t even feel bad when he tried to hide a wince. Enough was enough. “We can’t keep pretending it isn’t happening. We’re turning into the next hashtag joke on social media.” She glanced down at Harrison, at the steady, useless rise and fall of his chest. Then she locked gazes with each member of her family. “It needs to end. Now.”

Stunned silence greeted her. After a minute, Luc nodded. “So what do you propose?”

Relief punched through her. She’d been expecting opposition. Her children knew she was strong when it counted, but for all their lives, Harrison had been the head of the Marshall family and she his stalwart support. She’d never taken command like this.

But things were changing. Her gaze drifted to Joe. Things had changed. She blinked away the curious question in his eyes as Gabe stepped forward. Before he could speak, his phone rang.

Mariella saw the apology in his eyes as he fished the phone out of his pocket. A glance at the screen, and his face hardened a touch. “I’m sorry, Tía, I need to take this. It’s business.”

“Of course.” She waved him away, watched him walk briskly out of the room. In a way she was a little relieved he was out of the way. Her nephew was nothing if not an alpha male. While she relished that on occasion, she needed to establish implacable control right now as the head of the Marshall family. Her family’s reputation and well-being depended on it.

“We’re already hosting the masquerade ball, Mom. What else can we do?” Rafe asked.

“I’ve got an idea,” Luc suggested.

Mariella turned to her son. His eyes were gleaming, a sure sign his clever brain was working at warp speed. Pride punched through her. “What are you thinking?”

“We take the masquerade ball, and we super-size the fuck out of it.”

She bit her tongue against admonishing him for swearing. He would always be her baby, but he was a grown man. Instead, she smiled as the idea took root and sprouted. “Yes! That’s an excellent idea, Luc.”

Rafe nodded, too. “We could also take a little of the heat off by doing it out of town. We arrange private jets to fly the guests out to the ball—for extra, of course—make a huge deal out of it.”

“I play golf with the CEO of Westfield Jets. He’s been on my case for months to find a way for us to do some business together. I’ll give him a call if you like,” Joe offered with a warm smile. “He’ll cut us a good deal on a fleet of jets. He’ll welcome the publicity, too.”

It felt a little treacherous to be smiling at her lover when she stood next to Harrison, but dammit, they’d gotten on board with her need to reestablish themselves with barely a hint of the disagreement that’d been rampant these past weeks. And she deserved to be a little pleased that things were going her way.

So she smiled. “Thank you, Joe, that would be wonderful.”

Anything for you, his gaze said.

Feeling a little more settled than she’d been a mere fifteen minutes ago, she stepped away from the bed. Stood firmer on her feet. “It’ll be a great time to announce our new venture, too. The nightclubs in Cancún and Miami are still under construction, but Club Elana in Vegas is almost ready, isn’t it, Joe?”

He nodded. “A few days to a week, tops.”

“You have five days. I think Vegas will be the perfect place to hold the ball. We slay two birds with one stone with the nightclub opening on Friday and the ball on Saturday. Plus, it’s not too far for our guests to fly. I’ll get the MSM team to move everything to Club Elana. The masquerade ball will be our best event ever.”

Mariella looked at her daughter, who’d been staring at her father for the last few minutes. “Elana? You have something to add?”

Elana shook her head and shrugged. “Looks like you’ve got everything covered, Mom. It’ll be great, I’m sure.”

Mariella narrowed her eyes at her daughter. “What’s on your mind, Elana? Spit it out.”

Her tone was a little harsh, she knew that. But she was done cuddling and cajoling. This family would sink if they didn’t grow bigger cojones. That included not skirting whatever delicate feelings her daughter seemed caught in.

“Well...what about the Fixer? Are we forgetting that this...person is still out there, pulling our strings?” Elana demanded.

A spike of anger and frustration threatened to upset Mariella again as her gaze flicked back to her husband. You’ve done this, she silently screamed at Harrison. But she composed herself and turned to face her family.

“I haven’t forgotten about the Fixer. But neither am I going to waste any more time on who it is or what their intentions are. This family is my number-one priority. It’s my only priority going forward. I’m taking control of it. If the Fixer, or anyone else, has a problem with that, they know where to find me.”

She picked up the purse she didn’t remember discarding on the bed, ignored the slightly alarmed looks her children were exchanging and walked out of the hospital room.