The Billionaire's Secret Wife Read online

  “I’ve managed hundreds of projects!”

  “With an acceptable level of competence, for which you were compensated accordingly. But frankly, you aren’t as good as you think you are. If you don’t walk out of here in the next three minutes, I’ll have you thrown out. The choice is up to you.”

  With that he dismissed the manager from his thoughts as he focused on the papers in front of him. The Ethel Sterling Children’s Hospital had been Barron’s pet project, something he wanted to build in his late wife’s name. It should’ve been completed two years earlier, but somehow it was still on-going. Barron hadn’t really given it the attention it required, what with the return of his granddaughter Kerri from self-imposed exile and her wedding, plus Barron’s own newly minted romance. And Justin had had other things demanding his attention since he’d taken over as well.

  Justin glanced at the desktop clock. The round face was set in an elegant miniature silver statue featuring two swans with necks entwined. Their diamond eyes sparkled. Vanessa’s eyes had sparkled the same way when she’d given it to him as a birthday present six years ago. They’d been in Paris on a secret vacation. He’d even booked separate hotel rooms to maintain the ridiculous façade she’d wanted.

  He kept thinking he should throw it out, especially after their nasty fight in November, but somehow in the ensuing three months he hadn’t been able to do so. He told himself the clock was useful, and it was true that it was the only timepiece in his office.

  Almost six o’clock. He should have his assistant order him something quick to eat. It was going to be a long night.

  His personal mobile rang, and he scowled at it. Fewer than twenty people had the number, and the last thing he needed was another problem. A frown creased his brow when Iain Pryce flashed on the screen. He was one of Justin’s closest friends and Vanessa’s older brother.

  What could he want?

  “Hi, Ia—”

  “Thank god. Are you in Chicago?”

  “Yeah. What’s up?”

  “It’s Vanessa.”

  Justin’s mood instantly darkened, then turned to something that felt suspiciously like worry. He cursed himself and kept his voice even. “What about her?”

  “She’s on a flight to O’Hare.”

  Justin pressed a finger against the spot between his eyebrows as his idiot heart thumped. She couldn’t possibly be coming to visit him. “On business?”

  “No. Can you get her off the plane and keep her there until I can go get her?”

  “Isn’t she flying private? Just have the pilot turn back to L.A.” Unlike three of her brothers, she didn’t have her own jet. She was probably on one of her brothers’ toys.

  “She’s on United.” Iain rattled off the flight number and arrival info.

  I should just say no. He wasn’t Vanessa’s keeper, and he really needed to forget her and move on. On the other hand, what was making her to come to Chicago? The moronic part of him spun a ridiculous fantasy: maybe she was coming to apologize and change her ways. Toxic hope. He didn’t buy it.

  “Justin, can I count on you?” Iain was saying. “I’ll be there soon.”

  “Don’t bother. It’s late, and I’m sure you have better things to do,” Justin said. “I’ll send her back to L.A. as soon as possible. If not, I’ll call. Is that cool?”

  “Thanks. I owe you one.”

  Justin hung up and leaned back in his seat. Yeah. You and everyone else.

  * * *

  Vanessa rubbed her temples as twin hammers pounded inside her head. Maybe she shouldn’t have had so much to drink on the flight, but this was a special situation. The cabin started to hum with activities as soon as the plane reached the gate.

  The purser’s calm voice came through the PA system, saying the usual about thanking the passengers blah blah blah. Then there was something different. “Please resume your seats for a few moments until we’re cleared to deplane.”

  There was a general murmuring, but the passengers slowly sat back down. Vanessa frowned, taking her seat again with her purse clutched in her lap. She wanted to get off as soon as possible and then…what? She closed her eyes. Coming to Chicago was a mistake. She and Justin didn’t have the kind of relationship where she could just show up unannounced for support. She’d systematically discouraged him from starting the type of deep conversation that she wanted right now. Her fingers tightened around her purse.

  There’s probably another flight leaving for L.A. soon. O’Hare was a huge airport. If not, she’d just check into a hotel and catch the first flight out.

  A few moments later, the cabin door swung open and three men in uniform entered. TSA or ICE, she thought, her tired eyes bleary and unable to focus. She should sleep and eat better, but she hadn’t been able to do either since November.

  They came down the aisle and stopped at her seat. “Vanessa Pryce?” one of them asked.

  “Yes?”

  “Would you mind coming with us?”

  That had an instantly sobering effect. “What’s this about?”

  “We can’t say.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Won’t say” would be more precise. The men’s expressions showed zero emotion, nothing she could use to figure out what was going on.

  “Can I bring my purse and laptop bag?” she asked.

  “Yes, of course.” They stepped back.

  She pulled out her bag, her mouth set in a tight line. Curious stares from other passengers burned her like a brand, and she suppressed a sigh. The one time she flew on impulse, and this was what happened. She pushed down her irritation and embarrassment. It was probably a mix-up. They were probably looking for another Vanessa Pryce, one who was probably some sort of dangerous fugitive.

  The men escorted her all the way through the concourse. Many people didn’t even pretend to look away. Why should they? It wasn’t every day you got to watch a woman get dragged away by a team of uniformed government men.

  “Do I get a phone call?” she asked finally.

  “You can call whoever you like.”

  There was no one else to call except Rosenbaum, McCraken, Wagner and Associates. They were her family’s lawyers, and they’d know what to do. She didn’t feel comfortable representing herself, especially not while she was drunk and tired.

  They led her to the other side of the security line. She was getting her phone out when they said, “Have a nice evening.”

  She turned back toward them. “Wait. Aren’t I under arrest?”

  One of them cracked a small smile. “What gave you that idea?”

  She raised both of her eyebrows. They had to be kidding. All that humiliating display for this? “Can I have your names?” She’d sic the family lawyers on them.

  “Vanessa.”

  She stilled at the familiar voice, then turned, the three men forgotten. Justin watched her, his eyes hooded. A long black coat covered his lean body, and his mouth was set in a tight line, not a hint of softness or welcome in his expression. It made her feel small and uncertain. Why had she thought it would be such a great idea to fly out to Chicago? It would’ve been better if she’d stayed in L.A. and gotten drunk with her friends instead.

  Except she didn’t want to talk about her parents with anybody in L.A.

  “What are you doing here?” Vanessa asked. “You aren’t…” She stopped, taking a quick glance around the arrival lounge. No one in Justin’s family flew commercial. The Sterlings had more money than they could spend in ten lifetimes.

  “I’m here to pick you up.”

  Then it hit her; he was the one who’d sent those men. She waited for anger to surge, but instead resignation pooled in her belly. He’d made it clear how furious he was with her. “You’re dead to me” was pretty final.

  Now his gaze was raking over her. “If you were going to come to Chicago, you could’ve at least dressed for the weather.”

  “Oh.” She looked down at her dark navy skirt suit and open-toe stilettos, perfect for February in L.A.
<
br />   “Do you have anything warm in your luggage?”

  She shook her head. “I didn’t really, you know. Pack.”

  The muscles in his jaw bunched, but he came over and draped his own coat around her. It was toasty and smelled of winter and chocolate and Justin. In his Italian suit, Justin’s shoulders looked so wide and comforting. Before she could get a hold of herself, tears sprang to her eyes, and she blurted, “My parents are divorcing.”

  Something shifted in his expression, and she could swear she’d glimpsed a hint of softness underneath the hard mask. And it only made her want to cry harder because he’d been such an amazing friend and support to her, and she’d pushed him away.

  “I’m sorry.” She wiped the tears. “I shouldn’t have come.”

  There was a long, agonizing moment, and she wondered which way it was going to go. “No, it’s okay,” he finally said. “We can talk in my car.”

  “Where are we goi—?”

  “Where else? To my place.”

  Chapter Two

  It didn’t take much time for them to reach his penthouse. Justin’s driver maneuvered the black Bentley through the wintry streets of Chicago, while Justin settled next to her. She started to raise her hand to reach for him, then stopped. He sat with his back unnaturally straight and stiff, his eyes contemplating the glittering city. His usually neat, dark hair was mussed like he’d just rolled out of bed, and it brought back memories of their times together.

  Vanessa looked down at her expertly manicured hands. She still didn’t know why she’d gotten on that flight to O’Hare. She and Justin had ended things. No…he’d ended it because he’d been furious with her. She’d never seen him so angry before, and she knew she’d ceased to be a part of his life since November.

  And yet here they were.

  When the elevator door opened on the top floor, Vanessa peeked at the place she’d made sure never to visit. She’d also ensured he never came over to her places either. They’d done everything at hotels, resorts…once or twice out in nature on camping trips. It wasn’t that difficult to arrange a clandestine hook-up. After all, she’d learned from watching the best—her parents.

  Justin’s home was surprisingly inviting, with comfortable-looking couches and earth-toned furniture in sharp green and silver accents. Given how immaculate everything was—not even a speck of dust—he probably had housekeeping.

  Justin brought her inside and gestured at a seat. As soon as she took it, he poured himself a finger of whiskey from his bar and downed it in one near-violent tilt of his head.

  “Have you eaten?” he asked.

  “No,” she said, surprised at the realization that she hadn’t had anything to eat since breakfast.

  “No wonder you look so pale. Chinese or pizza?”

  “I’m not hungry, but I can use some liquor if you have any.”

  “You’re not touching a drop of alcohol until you have some food.”

  The hardness of his tone penetrated her misery and confusion. He was still furious with her. Why was he doing this then? “Justin, I don’t… This was a bad idea. I’ll check into a hotel.” She got up and blinked as dots swam in her vision.

  Cursing, he caught her. “Sit down and don’t even think about it.” He dialed a number and ordered two dinner specials.

  She covered her face in her hands and breathed in Justin’s scent on the coat. It was still around her, its presence comforting. She should take it off—it was quite warm in Justin’s penthouse, but she loathed to give it up. Why was she even there? She knew how bad this thing with Justin was. When he’d finally ended it, made it clear how much he hated her, she should’ve left it at that.

  “If you eat, I’ll let you have a Mouton ’45,” Justin said finally. The couch dipped under his weight.

  “Thanks,” she said without looking at him. She must look awful for him to offer one of his prized Moutons.

  “So. Is it really true? Your parents are divorcing?”

  She nodded. “Dane told me.”

  Justin let out a long sigh. “All the brothers you have, and it had to be him.”

  Her mouth twisted. “I thought he might have been kidding, but when I spoke with Mom, she told me she’d hired Samantha Jones.” Vanessa clenched her hands and blinked away tears. “And if that wasn’t bad enough, Dad said it wasn’t up for discussion.” Doesn’t concern you, Vanessa. You aren’t my attorney.

  No. She was just their daughter. Two of her brothers—Iain and Mark—had been confused about the news, Dane as usual had nothing illuminating to add, and Shane…she didn’t even know where Shane was.

  Justin leaned back. “Who would’ve thought? The Eternal Couple.”

  “Guess nobody’s going to be saying that anymore.”

  “I’m sorry. But maybe this is better for them.”

  “But how can they?” She finally turned to look at Justin. “I can’t believe it. No matter how miserable they made each other, no matter what people said, they always stayed together. Why are they doing this now? If they wanted to divorce, they should’ve done it years ago while they still had time to start fresh. What’s the point?”

  “Who knows what they’re thinking? Maybe they were waiting until you guys were all grown. Maybe they decided it’s better to live freely now than never.”

  She turned away and wiped away a tear. Justin handed her a box of tissues. “They still should’ve done it years ago.” Before the whole family lived through decades of misery. Before she found all those letters in the vanity drawer in her mother’s bedroom.

  Justin silently put a hand on her shoulder. When the delivery guy came with the food, he paid and came over to spread the Chinese all over the low coffee table. He served the beef and broccoli and Peking duck—her favorite. She didn’t think it was a coincidence given how much he disliked broccoli.

  She tilted her head, trying to figure him out. There was something matter-of-fact about the way he moved and talked, like everything that had happened between them in November didn’t even exist. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

  A beat of silence, then Justin answered, “Iain asked me.” He pushed a plate her way and handed her a pair of chopsticks. “Eat.”

  She pushed the food around, then finally nibbled on a broccoli floret when Justin gave her a cool, steady stare. It tasted great, and she realized she was actually quite hungry. “He called?”

  Justin nodded and started eating. There was something very methodical and driven about the way he ate. He didn’t shovel his food down like some men she knew, but he didn’t take his time either. It reminded her of somebody trying to eat an entire elephant without making himself sick—one bite at a time, chew, swallow, repeat at a steady speed until he was finished.

  They ate in a silence that wasn’t too awkward. “You should’ve told him you were too busy,” she said after the final piece of duck.

  He poured two glasses of claret and pushed one her way, and she let herself smile a bit while rolling the stem. This was so like him—keeping his promise without her having to prompt him. She breathed in the wine—the luscious black currant scent—and took a small sip, unable to wait.

  “The real question is: why did you come to Chicago? You don’t have any friends here.”

  The priceless vintage turned bitter in her mouth, and she forced herself to swallow. “Would you believe me if I told you the flight to Chicago happened to be the earliest one out of L.A.?”

  He snorted, swirling the wine in his glass. “Are you really a successful attorney? Hard to imagine, when you lie so poorly.”

  They’d dated on and off for over ten years. Somehow he seemed to know everything about her, while her family seemed clueless about what she was up to half the time.

  Vanessa finished her wine. She didn’t know what made her keep coming back to him. They should’ve quit each other after she’d finished law school. She’d told him so. Even broken up with him. But then that wasn’t how it’d happened. They’d kept calling, kept seeing
each other, kept having sex.

  And that wasn’t like her. She’d never once clung to a guy she’d decided to break up with, but with Justin she was unable to control herself.

  “I came to Chicago because I had nobody else to turn to.” She drank more of the wine and laughed a sad laugh. “That didn’t sound as pathetic when I thought it in my head.”

  Placing his empty glass on the table, Justin leaned forward. “It doesn’t sound pathetic. It actually sounds lonely.”

  Vanessa bit her lower lip. This was what made him so difficult to ignore…and impossible to be with. He could see through all the smiles and outer shells and artifices. Nobody understood her the way he did, and he made her want things that would only bring her misery in the end.

  She drained her glass. She no longer felt cold, but she kept his coat around her anyway.

  “You’re so contradictory and unpredictable,” he said. “If I didn’t know you so well, I would’ve thought you were playing games.”

  Her face heated. “I’m not…” She cringed as the argument from November flashed through her mind. “I’m sorry about all this.” She waved her hand vaguely. “I know you’re angry with me.”

  “Angry isn’t quite the right word.”

  She winced. Most assuredly not. More like furious…maybe even murderous. She doubted any other man would have come pick her up at the airport, even as a favor to one of his closest friends.

  Tilting her chin up with an index finger, Justin lowered his head until their breaths mingled. “‘Angry’ is simple. One dimensional. What I’m feeling right now is a little more complicated than that.”

  Her mouth dried, and her heart beat harder and faster against her ribcage. Justin smelled amazing, like pine forest and man, and his dark eyes seemed to suck her right into him.

  She didn’t know why she wasn’t pulling back from him. If nothing else, pride and self-preservation should’ve made her get the hell out of Justin’s condo. Hadn’t she been glad when he’d broken things off? She’d told herself he was being unreasonable and melodramatic, and that she wasn’t going to go to him first.

  But right now she wanted to be close to him. All through her adult life, Justin had been an anchor that never changed. If she clung to him, nothing would be able to sweep her away.