Secrets Of The A-List Box Set, Volume 3. Dani Collins

rioting senses. Because short of alcohol, the only thing that would soothe him was—

      Shit. No.

      He clenched his fists on his thighs and tried to steer his mind away from the secret stash of gay porn on his laptop. He hadn’t watched any in a while, certainly not since the wedding.

      For a while he’d toyed with getting rid of the folder entirely. Maybe it was time to put all that behind him?

      The sound of approaching footsteps put a mocking end to that train of thought less than a minute later. Thom cursed under his breath as he turned toward the sound, then cursed some more at the sight of the pool cleaner.

      The young guy was built like a dark Adonis, the almost shy greeting he sent Thom’s way as he skirted the pool firing up thoughts he had no business thinking if he wanted to keep his cock from broadcasting his impure musings.

      Fuck.

      He raised one leg to hide the man’s effect on him as torrid images tumbled through his mind. Just fucking great, he mused bitterly, that even thousands of miles away from sunny Santa Barbara pool attendants were still hot enough to warrant second and third looks.

      Enough already!

      He should go in. Take a shower and take matters into his own hands like he’d toyed with minutes ago. Or better still, find Elana. Make love to his wife like he’d been doing since they got here. Or they could just talk.

      When he was around her, thoughts of other men stayed suppressed in the secret vault in his mind where they belonged.

      But his body refused to obey his brain. He remained on the lounger, his gaze once again straying to the man’s tight abs and ass. It was almost a relief when the attractive attendant gathered his cleaning equipment, wished Thom a good evening and vacated the terrace.

      With one obstacle gone, his mind, still eager to find trouble, slid once again to Gabe. Within twenty-four hours he would be back in the Fixer’s orbit.

      Under his mercy.

      Hell, no.

      Whatever he had to do, there was no way he was going back to being intimidated by the guy. From what he’d overheard on the phone, the Fixer had as much, if not more, to lose than Thom did. If nothing else, his new position as a member of the Marshall family would buy him some leverage. Would Gabe really threaten a member of his family?

      He was pondering how best to turn that to his advantage when the sliding doors of the living room jerked open.

      He managed to school his features into neutral before turning his head to watch Elana walk slowly toward him. But he needn’t have. Her head was downcast, her face severely pinched as she chewed on her bottom lip. As she drew closer, Thom noticed how pale she looked.

      “Hey, are you okay? Did the meditation go that badly?” he half joked.

      She shook her head distractedly and carried on walking straight past him. Thom frowned as he watched her stroll to the edge of the pool then stare blindly at the view.

      If he had to guess, he would’ve said his wife had just had unwelcome news shoved down her throat. Except all she’d done was attend what should’ve been a mind-calming session. He knew she hadn’t received any phone calls from Santa Barbara regarding Harrison, because her phone was where she’d left it on the poolside table.

      As if his thought connected to hers, she whirled around, stalked to the table and snatched up the phone. Frantically, her fingers flew over the surface, her frown deepening.

      He sat up and planted his feet on the ground. “What’s going on, Elana?”

      “What? Nothing. I’m... I’m fine.”

      “Really? ’Cause you sure don’t look it. In fact, you look the opposite of post-meditation bliss.”

      She flicked a shrug at him, her eyes still glued to the screen. “Yeah... I’m not cut out for it, I guess. Should’ve stuck to swimming.”

      She was being cagey about something. But what? Was she sick? Surely she wouldn’t think he would berate her for being ill on their honeymoon? He wasn’t that much of an asshole, was he?

      He dismissed the thought a second later. This was Elana Marshall. She didn’t need anyone’s permission to be sick.

      Nevertheless...

      “Honey, if you’re not feeling well, just tell me. I’m sure we can get one of the private doctors to see you—”

      “No!” Her head snapped up from the phone, her eyes going wild for an intense moment. Then she smiled a very false, forced smile. “Seriously, Thom, I’m fine. I didn’t think I’d be the first to crack, but I think I’m just about ready to take a break from paradise.”

      A thin band of steel tightened around his chest. “Tired of me already?”

      She shook her head, but her gaze slid away from him, back to her damned phone. “No, of course not. I’m just...eager to start our lives together, you know?”

      Thom nodded automatically, despite not being able to shake the thought that she was lying. Or at the very least not telling him the whole truth. He could’ve pressed her for more, he thought as she flashed a smile at him and retreated back into the villa.

      But then, wasn’t he keeping huge secrets of his own?