Secrets Of The A-List. Karen Booth
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taken the chance to get to know her, nor had they given any indication that they ever cared to.
Except for Luc. He was different, but that made her more nervous than anything. Their first run-in had been innocent enough—a few words in the hall when she’d bumped into him and dropped her basket of laundry on her first day. She’d laughed at one of his jokes, which made him smile, and that had apparently been enough to make him want to keep the conversation going. But when she found out who he was, she backed away. Despite finding him attractive—any woman would—there was a barrier there neither of them could cross. The problem was, she couldn’t tell him anything about it.
As time went by, he began to seek her out, try to steal a few minutes with her. He’d go looking for her in the house, in places the family rarely went, like the laundry area or the butler’s pantry. He seemed happy when he found her. He asked her questions, tried to make conversation. Vanessa had been so unnerved by it, she didn’t know what to do. She’d been wondering, quite seriously, if it was some sort of trick to get her fired for daring to fraternize with a member of the family. As he began to confide in her, they grew closer, but she also became more careful. She didn’t reveal too much about herself, keeping information vague.
Luc’s circumstances, growing up a product of privilege, couldn’t be more different, and yet, they connected. He listened. He seemed to care. Everything on the surface of Luc’s life looked perfect—important career, gorgeous girlfriend from a well-connected family, and of course, the Marshalls were no slouches when it came to providing for their children. He had succeeded in all the ways society valued, and yet he said he felt empty. His plastic surgery career was only fulfilling when he worked for Doctors Without Borders. He felt estranged from his siblings—he and Rafe were always at odds, and Elana was so scattered it was impossible to maintain a connection. Then had come the most telling detail—his relationship with Rachel was shallow. Meaningless. He’d used those exact words.
Once, while driving her to the estate after her own car broke down, he’d asked her if she had siblings. She’d replied that she was an only child and abruptly changed the subject. Revealing more details at that point would be nothing more than opening Pandora’s box. As much as she wanted to match his openness, she couldn’t afford to do it. It would leave her too exposed. So she’d deflected back to him, and that seemed to work.
She’d had no reason to suspect he considered her anything more than a friend. She was a housekeeper, for God’s sake, and he was dating a stunningly beautiful congressman’s daughter. Their lots in life could not be any more different. Perhaps the absurdity of their friendship was the reason she’d allowed it to continue. But then one day he came to the house and there was a look in his eye that stopped her dead in her tracks.
“I’m falling for you, Vanessa,” he’d said. “You’re all I think about. I make up excuses to come to the house, just so I can see you. When I get home, I replay every word between us.”
Vanessa could still remember exactly how hard her heart was hammering when he’d made his confession. “Luc. No. This isn’t right.”
“Why? Because it feels anything but wrong.” He’d reached for her then, and it was hard to keep her wits about her. He was so sincere.
“I can’t tell you why,” she’d said before stealing away upstairs to her room.
She couldn’t tell him then, and she couldn’t tell him now. She needed to tell Mariella first.
“The red dress really is quite lovely.” Mariella smoothed her hand over her hips and swiveled back and forth before the mirror.
“You look absolutely gorgeous,” Vanessa said. It was the truth.
“I know I’m supposed to wear dark colors, but I don’t think I have the strength to try on another dress anyway. Plus, it’s my ball. Let’s go with this one. You can take the rest away.”
Vanessa went right to work, gathering the luxurious silk and satin dresses and draping them over her arm. After four or five, she was already feeling weighed down. “I’ll be right back for the rest.” She headed into Mariella’s closet. The boxes the dresses had been shipped in, from Italy, France, Japan and all over the US, were neatly stacked.
“Vanessa!” Mariella called out.
Panicked, Vanessa plopped down the dresses and walked double time back to Mariella’s room. She’d seemed almost happy when Vanessa had left a minute ago. There was no telling what fresh hell had just been unleashed. “Yes? Is there a problem?”
Mariella was standing there holding the dress she’d earlier described as hideous. “Is there any chance you and I wear the same size?” She looked Vanessa up and down, eyebrows lowered in deep concentration, almost as if she was seeing her for the first time.
“Yes, Mariella. I believe so. Is there a problem?”
Mariella smiled. “You know, you really are a beautiful girl. Why don’t you take this dress and join us at the ball tonight? You’ve been such a help to me over the last few weeks, and it’s no fun to sit in your hotel room by yourself. We’re in Vegas. You should come and enjoy yourself.”
Vanessa didn’t know what to say. She’d suddenly lost the ability to speak. Perhaps if Mariella had a more regular habit of saying nice things, Vanessa wouldn’t have been so unprepared. “Thank you so much. I would love to go to the party.”
“Perfect then. It’s settled. You’ll have to find a mask, but I’m sure you can track one down.” Mariella handed over the dress. “You can get back to work now. Please, clean all of this up.” She fluttered her hand at the spate of haute couture littering her room.
Vanessa quickly collected the other dresses, her mind reeling. What in the hell had just happened? She rushed back into Mariella’s closet. She took a moment and ran her hands over the exquisite handwork adorning the dress she would apparently be wearing tonight. How was this happening? Generosity from Mariella was no everyday event. If only Joy was still at Casa Cat, she’d laugh her ass off over Vanessa being invited to the fancy ball. She’d call her Cinderella. But Joy had quit last night. She’d said she couldn’t stand working for Mariella anymore. Vanessa had her own reasons for sticking around. The time was coming for Mariella to find out that Elana wasn’t Mariella’s only daughter.
Elana eyed the stunning gown she was set to wear to tonight’s masquerade ball. It was black raw silk with fine silver threads woven in, low cut in the front and back, with just enough give in the tummy region. A few months ago, she would’ve been excited by the prospect of walking into the party in a dress that would show off every inch of her curves. Now? Her confidence was a little lacking, even though she knew it was silly. Her baby bump was hardly there—just the slightest protrusion of her lower belly. Still, she felt huge. Perhaps she felt that way because it was more than a baby—it was a reminder that the new challenge on the horizon was now barreling at her. As the person who questioned her own ability to do most things with some minimum of competency, being responsible for a human life was a scary prospect for Elana.
“Cut it out,” she muttered to herself.
She traipsed over to her jewelry case to pick out the perfect earrings for this evening. She needed to turn around her thinking. She had a drop-dead gorgeous husband and a life most women would kill for. This baby on the way was a new beginning, a fresh start, and if anyone needed that, it was Elana. She would finally be forced to get her act together. In an ideal world, the baby would also compel her to get over her addiction to Jarrod. He was a habit she absolutely, positively had to quit. The problem with quitting Jarrod was that thoughts of him always managed to find their way into her head.
She was haunted by visions of seeing him last night, the way he had just shown up in her room. Part of her had been royally pissed off that he would be so presumptuous. Another part of her, the foolish and needy part, loved that he’d done something so impossibly romantic. He’d gone to great lengths