The Billionaire's Secret Wife (The Pryce Family Book 3) (Volume 3) (22 page)

“You shouldn’t have stressed about it. It’s bad for you and your baby,” Hilary said. “Happy thoughts. Everything’s going to be fine.”

Vanessa nodded, praying Hilary was right.

* * *

Hilary and Jane decided to stay with Vanessa, so Justin asked Dane for a ride to the Pryce mansion to pick up her car. The butler hadn’t returned it yet, and he didn’t feel like waiting any longer.

As the Lamborghini made its way through the traffic at exactly the speed limit, Justin said, “Don’t ever try to manipulate Vanessa again.”

A beat, then Dane said, “What’s this about?”

“Her drive to make partner.”

Dane laughed, the sound dry. “And she wonders why lawyers have shitty reputations. Did she tell you what she was originally planning to do?”

Justin tilted his head.

“Child advocate. Rewriting happy endings for kids with fucked up family lives…like that would retroactively change her childhood. But going into that field wasn’t going to work.”

“Why not?”

“Grandmother would’ve staged a heart attack…and probably blamed Mom for it. Mom would’ve been mortified. Dad probably would’ve found another woman to bang so he could pretend everything was fine. And Vanessa would’ve realized soon enough nothing can change the past.

“She’s better off working for the bloodsuckers. They don’t give you false hope or pretend to be something that they’re not. But now that she’s your wife, I’ll let you deal with her.” Dane stopped the car in front of the mansion.

Justin climbed out, and Dane drove away. Was he right about her family’s potential reaction? Given how close she was to her mother, the whole mess would’ve been devastating for her.

It was strange to think Dane had actually done her a favor by challenging her—in his own way—to make partner. He wasn’t the nurturing, caring type.

Shaking his head, Justin looked at the mansion. It was brightly lit, illuminating a garden full of animal-shaped shrubs and a cheery water fountain. But what dark shadows lurked inside.

When Justin rang, it was a middle-aged housekeeper who answered. She was short, with a comfortably rounded face. A polite smile didn’t do anything to alleviate her homeliness, something Ceinlys had undoubtedly taken into consideration. It was one thing for her husband to have mistresses in other cities, something else to have one under the same roof.

“I’m Justin Sterling.” He gestured at Vanessa’s Mercedes. “Here to pick it up.”

“Oh, you’re her husband.” The housekeeper’s smile gained warmth. “Is she all right? I heard glass breaking while she was in Mr. Pryce’s library.”

“What are you talking about?”

Lines deepened between her eyebrows. “I think he might have thrown something against the wall while yelling ‘Get out.’ An awful argument.”

“Are you sure?” Salazar knew Vanessa was pregnant. How could he throw things at her?

“I cleaned up the broken glass.”

Fury like an Arctic storm whipped through him. “Where is Salazar?”

“In his study. The second floor, fourth door to the right.”

Justin took the winding stairs two at a time to the upper level, where the ceiling was as high as a cathedral’s. The study had double doors, and he wrenched them open.

“Justin. What a surprise,” Salazar said from his desk. His rolled up sleeves revealed ropey arm muscles underneath age-thinned skin. He smelled faintly of shower gel, and moisture glistened in his hair.

“Is it true you threw a glass at my wife?”

“Why don’t you ask her?”

“She’ll try to protect you, so she won’t tell me the truth.”

“Why would she do that? She’s not even my child. Didn’t she tell you?”

Tension tightened Justin’s neck and shoulders. The nerve at the back of his head throbbed. He dragged in some air. “Even though you raised her as your daughter, thankfully she’s not like you. But I’m different. Don’t you ever raise your voice or use violence against my wife.”

Salazar’s eyebrow rose with an arrogance that could only have come from a lifetime of living impervious to harm. “Or what?”

“I’ll ruin you.”

“Ruin me? That’s a good one. You’re too much like Vanessa, always too soft-hearted for her own good. That’s why she married you, isn’t it?”

Justin gave him a cold smile. “I’m Barron Sterling’s heir. Not even her pleas would change my mind should I decide to destroy you. Surely you’ve heard why Barron’s wife never tried to know what he was up to.”

Everyone knew the story. Ethel Sterling hadn’t wanted to get involved in her husband’s dealings because her interference or suggestion for leniency would only egg him on to be harsher than he’d intended.

Justin continued, “Vanessa is my wife, not to mention pregnant with my child. You’ll show her the respect she deserves. Do you understand?”

Salazar glared at him, and Justin glared right back. Finally the older man sat back and waved negligently. “Fine.”

Justin breathed in with satisfaction and left the house in Vanessa’s car. Underneath the leather was the scent of her. It was good that he’d come and found out about Salazar’s unacceptable behavior toward Vanessa. But she should’ve told Justin from the beginning. He didn’t want to worry that she was hiding things from him, especially if they were things that hurt her. His parents had always been open with each other, and he had a sinking feeling that without that, their marriage was a house built on a crumbling foundation.

Chapter Twenty-One

Since Vanessa was forced into a long vacation, she decided she and Justin should go out of town. It wasn’t often she was given two weeks off—in fact, she couldn’t think of the last time—and she didn’t want to stay in town and risk running into Peggy again.

She didn’t seem dangerous, but now that Vanessa was calmer, she realized Justin and Dane had valid concerns about the woman’s true motives. Besides, the way Peggy had revealed herself only when she thought she could get something and the way she’d made the first contact under false pretense weighed on Vanessa’s mind. There was probably some desperate anxiety on Peggy’s part, but at the same time, Vanessa would’ve preferred honesty from the very beginning. Now she felt like she couldn’t trust Peggy entirely. She was like a witness behaving badly—withholding information here and there, only divulging more when she had no choice. Witnesses like that often changed their stories as well.

“You know, we should visit your mother,” Vanessa said in the dark, her voice low and mellow. Justin had taken her so tenderly earlier, and her body was still quivering from the liquid pleasure that lingered. She pressed her back closer to him. She liked the way he enveloped her at night entirely too much, but she couldn’t pull away. “I’m sure she’s heard about our wedding and wants to see us face-to-face.” She’d met Blanche Sterling socially years ago, but didn’t really know much about Justin’s mother.

“She called me a few days ago. She wants to see you too.”

“Are you up for a trip? I don’t know what your schedule is like.”

“My schedule’s flexible. We can go whenever you feel like.”

Vanessa frowned as a thought occurred to her. “Do you think she’d rather fly out to see us?”

“No. She doesn’t travel anymore.”

“Why not? I remember how she used to travel a lot with your father.”

“After he passed away, she sort of became a hermit. She doesn’t even travel for family Thanksgivings.”

“I’m sorry. That’s kind of tough. Where does she live now?”

“Harrisburg. It’s a small town in Ohio. But Nate and I visit her after the festivities. She really doesn’t mind being alone. I think she enjoys the solitude.”

Vanessa turned around to look at Justin. In the dark, she could barely make out the sharp, clean lines of his face. It was amazing how he was hers. She felt like this was a dream and she’d wake up alone without him or the baby.

What kind of a mother would she make?

Her only role models were her own mother and grandmother. Ceinlys loved her children—of this Vanessa had no doubt—but she didn’t always express that affection very well. And she always seemed distracted and discontent, even though she faked happiness well when she knew people were watching. Nobody would’ve known how miserable Ceinlys was by looking at her. And she’d relegated almost every aspect of taking care of Vanessa to the nannies.

Then there was Shirley Pryce. Nobody was meaner or more cutting under the genteel exterior. She’d always made it clear that she considered Ceinlys to be beneath Salazar. Contemptible even.

She had also repeatedly told Vanessa a girl should never try to be too smart, too educated or too outspoken. A woman should strive not to embarrass her man, that was all.

“I don’t blame you for making that mistake,” her grandmother would say. “It’s not your fault. How can you know any better with a mother like Ceinlys?”

And unlike her brothers, Vanessa was the child who often did wrong according to her grandmother. Had Shirley, old but still very sharp, suspected Vanessa might not be Salazar’s?

“What are you thinking?” Justin asked.

“Nothing.” Vanessa wrapped her arms around him, not wanting to spoil their time in the dark by talking about her family. “Nothing at all.”

* * *

Blanche’s place in Harrisburg was a cozy cottage on a five-acre lot, a small section of which was a vegetable and herb garden. The house exterior was made of rough, earth-tone rocks, and the bright sun beat down on a red roof. A couple of apple trees grew in front, and a few long-eared rabbits hopped away as Justin’s car pulled up.

Vanessa took in the house. It wasn’t anything like what she’d pictured. She’d assumed Blanche would live in a mansion almost as grand as Barron’s in Houston. She could certainly afford one. But Harrisburg wasn’t even conveniently located. Vanessa and Justin had driven their rental for two hours after landing along lonely, deserted roads, some of which apparently didn’t even have names.

“Why here?” Vanessa asked. “She could live anywhere she wants.”

“To make sure it won’t be easy for Barron to bug her or summon her.” Justin put a hand on the small of her back. “Just a little rebellion against him for taking me from her.”

“What do you mean?”

“She wanted to keep me at home, but Barron wanted me with him, so he could ‘groom’ me.”

“Not many women would object to their son inheriting twenty-five billion dollars.”

“Mom’s not cut from the usual cloth.” Justin’s hand tightened behind her. “Watch your step.”

“I’m fine.” The path leading to the house was made of smooth pebbles, but Vanessa was an expert stiletto walker.

The aroma of bubbling soup and fresh biscuits hit her the moment Justin opened the heavy wooden door, and she had to smile at her own preconceptions. She’d assumed the place would be like her family’s mansion with its cool, wax- and cleanser-scented air.

The interior was all warm earth-tone tiles and rugs and old wood with off-white stucco walls. A painting in the living room featured a view of the ocean; a sunset spilled orange over the water and palm trees swayed in the breeze. It somehow didn’t quite seem to go with the rest of the place.

Justin noticed her gaze. “That’s the place where she met my dad,” he said. “She was working at a resort there.”

Blanche came out of the open kitchen, her sneakers quiet. Stove heat had turned her cheeks rosy. Her hair spread out around her face like a fluffy silver cloud. She wasn’t wearing a single piece of jewelry, but her dark eyes sparkled. She wore a pink long-sleeve shirt and blue jeans, all simple cotton. The white and green apron on her read
Home
,
Sweet Home
in a fire-truck red.

“Welcome!” she said, extending her arms.

“Mom!” Justin gave her a tight hug, his large frame enfolding Blanche’s much smaller one.

Vanessa stood behind him, her hands clasped. Justin had put on a casual shirt and khakis, but she’d chosen a discreet black designer dress, a brand new pair of stilettos and the pink pearls Ceinlys had given her when she’d graduated from Stanford Law. Suddenly she felt overdressed and ridiculous—despite being in a favorite outfit that had never failed to boost her confidence. Still, she pasted on a polite smile.

“Introduce me to your wife,” Blanche said, finally pulling away after a moment.

“Mom, Vanessa. Vanessa, Mom.”

“How do you do?” Vanessa said in her smoothest debutante voice. Thank god her grandmother had insisted on her completing an etiquette course. At that time she’d thought it was the silliest thing ever, but now she clung to every lesson.

“No need to be so formal, my dear.” Blanche clasped Vanessa’s hands. “That’s what Barron expects, not me. I’m just family.” She gestured at the dining table. “Please, sit. I know it was a long drive from the airport. Do you want some soup? Or if you prefer, I have whole wheat bread and biscuits with organic butter.”

“Soup and bread sounds lovely.” Vanessa sat at the table.

“What about lamb?” Justin asked, taking a seat next to her

“That’s for dinner, silly boy.”

Blanche served everyone. The soup was homey, with a light broth, had delicious vegetables and beans, and was topped with shredded cheese.

“It’s too bad you have to leave tomorrow,” Blanche said.

“Work. What can I say?” Justin popped half a biscuit into his mouth. “Barron’s basically retired, even though he won’t formally announce it.”

“That’s so like him. Thank heavens he doesn’t bother me with family events anymore.”

“He can’t make you travel.”

“Especially since I don’t care about his money.” Blanche turned to Vanessa. “Justin can tell you, I value my privacy now. Too old to be gallivanting around. I heard you’re pregnant. If anything’s not to your liking, I can always get you something else.”

“That won’t be necessary. This is perfect.”

“I’m so glad you’re here, Vanessa.” Blanche beamed. “Never thought Justin would marry, what with him unable to date any girl for long.”

Vanessa forced a smile, then busied herself with eating. If Blanche only knew about their dating history, she wouldn’t be as kind. She’d believe Vanessa had used her son, stringing him along. Having grown up watching her grandmother, she knew how things were perceived, especially by mothers-in-law.