Michelle Major - Secrets Of The A-List (Episode 6 Of 12)

As if expensive bedding and Egyptian cotton sheets would be enough when they both continued to work nonstop creating their empire. She still loved her husband. He’d swept her off her feet when she’d been a girl of twenty-three, reeling from the heartbreak of her first love’s betrayal. But after thirty-two years, their marriage had begun to feel more like a business partnership than a true love match.

Joe massaged his jaw between his fingers, as if her admission of Harrison’s magnetism was a physical blow. “I apologize if I misread the situation. The last thing in the world I want is to hurt you. Already I—”

“You haven’t done anything wrong,” she assured him.

“I wish that were the case,” he whispered, taking several steps toward the door. He turned back to her, tucking in his shirt then straightening his cuffs. “The decision is yours to make, Mariella. I’ll be waiting. I always have been.”

“Don’t say that.”

“I can accept the truth of my feelings for you,” he answered. “Whether we remain friends or become lovers, I’ll still be here when you need me.”

“Oh, Joe.”

He smoothed a hand over his hair then opened the door and peered out. “I’m going to go before anyone sees us together. You know where to find me.”

Mariella watched as the door closed behind him. Her grip on the edge of the mahogany dresser was so tight her knuckles went white. She turned to study herself in the mirror and willed her breath to even out.

Adrenaline coursed through her, and her head reeled from acknowledging a passion she hadn’t felt for a man in years. It might make her a horrible person and a terrible wife, but she wanted Joe. Heaven help her, she needed to find a way to control her desire.

Her husband was in a coma. Their entire family remained vulnerable to the machinations of the Fixer and whatever power he or she might choose to wield against them. She forced herself to remember her place in this family—what was expected of her and the fact that weakness wasn’t an option. Not for Mariella Santiago-Marshall.

Nothing good would come of pursuing a relationship with Joe. He’d told her he would remain her friend no matter what she decided, and she intended to hold him to that promise. With one more glance at the mussed bed, she changed into one of the slim black sheath dresses she favored for work, reapplied lipstick from the gold tube that sat on her dresser and walked toward the door.

No one must ever guess what had almost happened here, and she couldn’t afford to let it happen again.

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