by Nadia Lee
“No. To the airport.”
His chauffeur drove extra slowly, testing Justin’s patience. He reined in his temper, and called his assistant from the car phone. “Rita—”
“Oh my gosh, Justin, are you all right?”
“I’m fine, but my laptop’s toast. Ship a replacement to my address in L.A. Make sure it gets there before COB today. And I need a new charger. Have it waiting for me at SFO.” He didn’t have Vanessa’s number memorized—an oversight that was going to be corrected ASAP—and his personal cell was the only phone that had it.
“Anything else?”
“Cancel all my appointments for today and tomorrow. If anybody calls, I’m not in. And get me on the first flight to L.A.”
* * *
Vanessa ended up going home, where she sat trembling in front of the TV. None of the news stations had anything about the crash in San Francisco. She googled, but that didn’t yield much either. Everything was speculative—one early report said a man had died, then published a correction. It seemed like nobody knew what was really going on. Probably more interested in posting something first, she thought angrily, rather than something accurate.
Frustrated, she undid her hair and started pacing. Jittery energy and tension gripped her. Even now Justin’s family might be preparing for a funeral.
She hugged herself. No. She wouldn’t be negative.
But she still hadn’t heard anything about the accident, and his phone kept forwarding her to the voice mail. Surely, if Justin was okay, he would’ve called.
Maybe there was some other reason why he couldn’t call. Maybe he’d lost his phone in the accident. She picked up her phone and scrolled through her contacts. The names of clients, friends and colleagues flashed by. Her family probably didn’t know any better than her, and she didn’t know the numbers for Justin’s family.
Of course, she could find it easily enough. But it seemed awkward to call one of the Sterling & Wilson offices and ask, “Hey, did Justin survive?”
She was Justin’s wife. She should be the first one to know. And if she hadn’t been so damn insistent about keeping their relationship secret, she would have been.
Keys jangled at the door, and she turned sharply. Justin walked in, and for a moment her brain couldn’t process what it was seeing.
“Hey,” Justin said, opening his arms.
“You’re not dead!” She jumped into his arms, linking her hands behind his neck. “You’re not dead.”
“I’m fine, baby. I’m fine.” He wiped his thumbs over her cheeks, and she realized once again that she’d been crying.
“I thought… I couldn’t reach you and nobody knew anything.”
“I know, I’m so sorry. I forgot to charge my phone last night.”
She shook her head. “No, it’s all okay now. Are you hurt?”
“Nah. A couple of bruises, nothing to talk about. It’s almost a miracle.”
She pressed her palms against his cheeks and brought his head down for a kiss. She couldn’t believe he was with her, healthy and whole.
Thank you, thank you, thank you.
He kissed her back, his mouth desperate for her, and she poured her soul into the moment.
Without breaking the kiss, he carried her to the bedroom. They stripped each other out of their clothes, hands hurried and clumsy. His fingers tunneled into her hair, coiling it around them. He gripped her pelvis, and she spread her legs, wanting to feel him inside her so much, to know he was really here with her.
He pushed into her, his thick cock gliding into her right where it belonged. There was no slow savoring, just desperate relief and joy that they had cheated death.
He adjusted the angle, grinding into her sensitive nub with every thrust. Legs wrapped around him, she held onto his wide, solid shoulders, and sobbed out her relief and pleasure.
He let go, his face stark in climax. She put her hand against his flushed cheek.
Mine.
* * *
After a few moments Justin rolled off so he wouldn’t crush her. She turned to face him, her hair spread around her. “Justin…”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t think it’s working.”
Something cold wedged in his heart, turning the post-orgasm glow to ashes. “What do you mean?” he asked, keeping his voice neutral.
“It drove me crazy, not knowing. When nobody contacted me. If people knew I was your wife, they would’ve called me first.”
“That’s true.”
“So…maybe we should out ourselves. You know, announce the marriage. Then we could’ve avoided all this. You wouldn’t have to sneak around or risk your life.”
Justin smoothed a hand over her creased forehead. “This wasn’t your fault. It was the weather. The Bay area can get pretty foggy. Visibility was poor, and my pilot made a mistake. It’s not like I’m flying into a battle zone every day.”
“Still—”
“I’m serious. I know how important this July is for you. Didn’t you say you wanted to get promoted based on your own merits, and not because you’re married to me?”
“Yeah, but it doesn’t matter. I’m not getting promoted this year.”
He pulled back slightly. “You’re not?”
She shook her head. “The partners are giving me BS work. They also aren’t letting me do more than forty hours a week. You know what that means at a law firm?” She didn’t wait for his response. “It’s a not-so-subtle hint that I have no future there.”
Put it that way, it did look pretty bad. But he’d done it to ensure she wouldn’t work too much, and he didn’t want to change the way things were, not even to appease her self-esteem. A hundred billable hours a week was ridiculous for a pregnant woman. When would she find the time to see her doctor or eat regularly? He remembered how Gavin Lloyd’s wife had a pregnancy scare, and the woman had staff waiting on her. “Have they said anything to you directly?”
“No, but…”
“Well, you know what happens when you assume. Maybe your partners have a reason.”
“I guess.” She sighed, as though in resignation, but her thoughts were going a mile a minute from the way her eyes flashed.
“Hey. It’s okay. Everything’s going to be fine.”
She smiled. “You’re right. What do I have to complain about when you’re back safe and sound?”
He smiled back, swallowing the guilt twisting his gut.
Chapter Fourteen
The next morning, Vanessa thought that maybe she’d spoken too soon.
Zoe greeted her with, “Harry and John are looking for you. They want to see you immediately. In the Grand Conference Room.”
Vanessa raised an eyebrow. It was the nicest one the firm had, the one the partners used to impress new recruits and clients. She walked briskly down the hall, getting a few strange looks along the way. They barely registered. Strange looks were becoming almost normal, now that she was working so little.
She stopped in front of the dark wood door and took a deep breath. The Grand Conference Room isn’t designed for layoffs. You’ll be okay.
She knocked once and went inside. The conference room had a long mahogany table with expensive leather chairs. The windows gave a panoramic view of downtown Los Angeles, and the pristine cream walls had built-in shelves that held strategically placed awards and photos of the partners posing with various VIPs. It had been designed to impress.
Neither Harry nor John sat at the head of the table. Oh no. That seat currently belonged to another, far more important person: Barron Sterling.
Vanessa paused. Despite his age, Barron looked as languid and deadly as a great white shark. Fortunately his eyes twinkled with something that looked like good humor. She wondered about it for a split-second before remembering that it had to be because Justin had survived the crash. Totally understandable.
A Saville Row suit encased his solid body, only a hint of softness around the middle betraying his advanced years. He toyed with a sugar cooki
e that was on a plate in front of him.
Vanessa nodded to him and turned to the partners. “You were looking for me?”
“Yes.” John glanced at his watch. “For the last twenty-six minutes.”
She flushed. “I wish you’d called.”
“Nonsense,” Barron said, his gaze turning flinty as he glanced at John. “I’d never let anybody disturb my niece’s morning.”
She blinked a few times. “Your niece?”
Barron wiped his hands clean and rose. Facing her, he spread his arms. “Welcome to the family, Vanessa.”
She stared at Barron, then at the partners. The latter looked quite pleased. They were actually beaming at her like she was a prize race-horse who’d just won the triple crown.
“Mr. Sterling, I think there’s been a mistake,” Vanessa said thinly. Despite her suggestion to make their marriage public the night before, she was certain Justin hadn’t gone ahead and told his great-uncle. He knew how Barron was.
“Nonsense. I don’t make mistakes. And please, call me Barron.”
No mistakes? She bit the inside of her cheek. She could think of a few times, but mentioning them now wouldn’t be prudent.
Barron continued, “My only objection to all this is that you didn’t invite me to the wedding. Despite what you might’ve heard, I make a marvelous wedding guest.”
“I’m sure,” she said automatically. Her stomach suddenly started churning. “Excuse me,” she said, then bolted from the conference room.
John yelled from behind her, and Barron muttered something. She couldn’t make out anything, her ears ringing. She reached the bathroom and emptied her stomach.
She rinsed and wiped her mouth. Her cheeks looked flushed, matching the apple red of her hair, but otherwise she was deathly pale. She put a hand to her forehead. How could Barron know about the marriage?
As she walked out of the bathroom, she bumped into Stan. He gave her a smirk too big for his small head. “Now it’s Barron Sterling, eh?”
“Back off, Stan.” She gritted her teeth at how shaky she sounded. It was galling to look weak in front of the enemy. Stan raised a supercilious eyebrow and walked off; she composed herself and marched back into the conference room.
Barron munched on his sugar cookies, while the partners sat to his left, making small talk and trying to appear nonchalant, as though an associate running out was an everyday occurrence. Vanessa closed the door. “Sorry about that.”
“Are you all right? You look a little peaked,” Barron said. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have barged in like this after the unfortunate incident yesterday, but I simply couldn’t wait.”
“I’m fine, thank y—”
“I agree with Mr. Sterling.” Apparently Barron hadn’t given Harry leave to call him by his first name. “You should take some time off. I’ve seen your billable hours, and you’ve been working too hard recently. We’re all quite concerned.”
Concerned? Vanessa’s jaw loosened. Harry hated associates billing fewer than a hundred hours a week, to the point that he called them “parasites.” He probably thought she was the most indolent sloth in the history of mankind since she was only working forty.
“Harry’s right,” Barron said.
“Sir, that’s—”
“Vanessa, we’re family now. You’ll call me Barron, or Uncle Barron, if you wish.”
Her hands tightened into fists. “Naturally.”
Barron rose to his full height. He wasn’t particularly tall, but the confident way he held himself gave him a commanding air. “Take a week or so off. We can do all the right things to welcome you into the family. And perhaps you can change your name while you’re at it? Vanessa Sterling… It has a certain ring to it.”
She forced a smile. “I have to admit, it does,” she said, all the while thinking We’ll see.
* * *
Her cell phone was ringing in her purse when Vanessa made it back to her office. It was Kerri Lloyd, Justin’s cousin.
“Oh my gosh, I can’t believe you’re family now!” Kerri said. “I thought Barron was joking when he told me this morning.”
“He wasn’t.”
“I see that. This is awesome.”
“Thank you,” Vanessa said through rubbery lips. She stood at her window, not really seeing the view.
There was a beat of silence. “You don’t sound so good. Are you still shocked about the accident?”
Vanessa made a non-committal noise.
“We’ve got to meet and chat. I never pegged Justin for the impulsive elopement type.” Then Kerri added, “You either, for that matter. But this is so romantic.”
Romantic? “There’s nothing to tell, really.” It had been about the baby. The heir. Saccharine I love yous had never been exchanged.
“You don’t expect me to believe that, do you? Listen, I gotta go, but we’re definitely meeting up sometime soon. Barron said it was a secret elopement, but now that it’s out, I’m sure your parents will want to chat.”
Kerri hung up as Vanessa bit back a groan. Damn it. It wasn’t just her parents, but her brothers who’d descend upon her. Shane might even call, for news this big.
Two knocks and her door opened. Zoe stuck her head in. “Hey, is it true you’re married to Justin Sterling?”
“Where did you hear that?”
“Everyone’s talking about it.”
She sighed. Apparently, gossip was the only thing in the universe that traveled faster than light. “Yes, it’s true.”
“Wow. No wonder you almost fainted yesterday.” Zoe flushed. “I wish I’d known. I would have phrased things a little differently.”
“It wasn’t your fault. We were trying to keep it quiet.”
“Still, it’s so romantic. Young love. Did you elope in Vegas?”
Vanessa shook her head. “Canada.”
“Huh. I had no idea Canada was an elopement destination.”
“We’re just crazy iconoclasts. Um, would you mind closing the door? I have a few things I need to wrap up. And if anybody calls, I’m not in.”
“Sure. By the way, Sandra said you have the next two weeks off. She wanted me to remind you.”
“Of course,” Vanessa said, trying not to kick her desk. Sandra was Harry Dickson’s secretary. Harry would’ve never given her that many days off if she’d asked, but since Barron had practically demanded it… “Thanks.”
Vanessa sat down. Her phone rang again, and she turned it off. So many emotions were roiling…and she wanted to throttle Justin for the mess in her office! How could he have let Barron know? Her husband had all the finesse of an elephant in heat.
She would’ve preferred to announce their marriage in a way that would minimize the disruption to both of their lives. Now, with everyone whispering about it everywhere, that was impossible.
Don’t be ungrateful. You would’ve given anything to have Justin alive just a day ago. You got your wish. Don’t get angry over something Barron’s done. Justin might not have had anything to do with it.
She closed her eyes and dragged in some air. Maybe it would be good for her to take some time off, talk with family, and figure out her next steps. This was just a minor hiccup in her life. Besides the firm was already making it clear she wouldn’t have made partner anyway. What did it matter if everyone knew she was a Sterling now? Her career was effectively over.
She turned the phone back on and called Iain and Mark first. Neither picked up—they were generally busy—so she left them both a message, letting them know she was married to Justin Sterling.
Dane, on the other hand, had an assistant who was a news and gossip magnet and superb at reading situations. She instantly connected Vanessa to him.
“Make it short; I’m in a meeting,” Dane said.
Vanessa sighed. Work before family—her oldest brother’s MO. “I got married.”
A stunned silence, then he said, “To whom?”
“Justin Sterling.”
“Prenup?”
She
frowned. “No.”
“You did well then.”
“There’s more to a marriage than a prenup or lack thereof.”
“Of course. But it’s nice not to sign one, especially if you’re a woman and have fewer assets.”
“Do you ever actually listen to yourself?”
“Yes. And as a high-priced lawyer, you know I’m right.” He hung up.
She glared at the phone. She should’ve known Dane would be callous about the whole thing. Not even a token “congratulations.”
Well, what did she expect from the manipulative jerk? At least her three other brothers were nice. Since she no longer knew Shane’s number, given all his travels, she emailed him a short message, letting him know she was married and that she missed him. It wasn’t like Shane to be gone so long, as adventurous as he was.
Then she debated who she should call next. It was going to be either her mom or dad, and she flipped the “inner conflict resolution” quarter she kept in her desk drawer. It came up heads.
She dialed and waited. Ceinlys picked up on the fourth ring. “Hello dear.”
“Hi, Mom.”
A beat of silence. “What’s wrong?”
Vanessa closed her eyes briefly. There was no escaping the maternal mood radar. “I just wanted you to know that I, ah, got married. To Justin.”
“You what?”
“I married him. Justin Sterling.”
“Justin Sterling.”
“Yes.”
“When did this happen?”
“About seven weeks ago.”
“Vanessa!” Ceinlys gasped. “And you never told me. He didn’t mention it either…and both of you came over to my party!”
“Well, we weren’t going to tell anybody for the time be—”
“I am not ‘anybody.’ Really, Vanessa. Keeping an affair like this from your own mother. Marrying someone like him isn’t just a matter of love.”
Ceinlys would know from experience. Vanessa covered her face with a hand.
“Did you negotiate your own prenup?” her mother asked.
She sighed. “There isn’t any prenup.” Not for a lack of trying. She would’ve preferred everything to be laid out crystal clear.
Ceinlys made a vague humming noise. “I see. Well. When is the honeymoon?”
