The Billionaire’s Secret Wife(11)
Barron pulled out a sugar cookie. “When are you going to produce a child?”
Justin suppressed a sigh. This again. “When I find a woman who wants me, not my money.”
The older man snorted. “I’m surprised none of your exes thought to get pregnant. That would’ve been the easiest way to get you to marry them.”
“Child support is cheaper and infinitely preferable. Besides, I’m sure our lawyers would win the custody battle.”
“They better, given how much they’re paid.” Barron expected the very best from everyone who worked for him—that was to say, to give him everything he wanted when he wanted it.
“If that’s all—”
“If you don’t find a wife soon, I plan to find one for you.”
“Please, no matchmaking.”
“There are heiresses who wouldn’t want your money.”
“How many who are worth twenty-five billion?” Justin steepled his fingers. “You know how it is. No limit on greed.”
Barron sighed. “You know why I groomed you myself, don’t you? To carry on the family legacy. Grow it, for subsequent generations.”
Justin nodded.
“And that means you have certain responsibilities to me, as well as to the family. One of which is that you marry and produce an heir whom you can groom yourself. I’d like to see this before I die.”
“If you ever die. I swear you’re going to outlive us all.”
Barron laughed his booming laugh. “You say that now, but I’m not young anymore. I’ll die soon enough. I mean what I said, Justin. Marry that London girl you’re with.”
Justin narrowed his eyes. London Bickham had a sizable trust fund, and she was funny and nice, but she sometimes bored him. Still, she was a good distraction to help him forget Vanessa.
“Don’t give me that look. London’s a good girl. Pretty too.”
The intercom buzzed, thankfully giving Justin a small reprieve. It was London.
“Speak of the devil.” Barron smiled, his eyes twinkling.
“We have a lunch date,” Justin said.
“When I was your age, I picked the girl up at her house.”
“She’s a modern woman. Has her own driver’s license and everything.”
A few minutes later the elevator doors opened, London strolled in. Many assumed it was her golden hair and wide blue eyes that made her look like a child’s doll, but Justin disagreed. It was her eyes, completely devoid of intellect or a single original thought. Still, he preferred his rebound to be the polar opposite of Vanessa.
London’s hips swayed, making the hem of her pale green dress swirl around her thighs. Her unbound curls cascaded over her slim shoulders, and she didn’t show any surprise at the sight of Barron. “Hello, Justin. Barron, I didn’t know you were going to be in Chicago.”
“Don’t mind me.” He brushed invisible cookie crumbs from his clothes.
“Are you joining us for lunch?”
“No. I have to return to Maryland.”
London smiled blankly at Barron, while Justin relaxed. Maryland meant only one thing—he was going back to Stella Lloyd, the new love of his life. Justin made a mental note to send her a big basket of gourmet European chocolate and flowers. Barron was technically retired, but in actuality he was semi-retired, always nosing around at Sterling & Wilson. It had the unfortunate side effect of undermining Justin at times. But ever since Barron had met Stella, he’d been too busy in Maryland to drive Justin insane, and for that the woman deserved a lifetime of chocolate and flowers.
“You two lovebirds have a good time,” Barron said, heaving himself up and leaving.
“He’s so sweet,” London said.
Justin hid a cool smile. “He’s not bad.”
Most people who’d ever worked for or with him would never call Barron “sweet.” He was a faithful disciple of Machiavelli—make people fear you and crush them when they mess with you so they could never rise up against you, ever. And unlike Justin, Barron was fully capable of applying it to everyone, including his own family.
After putting on a coat, Justin placed a hand at the small of London’s back. She smelled heavily of a pricey perfume, nothing at all like Vanessa, who rarely wore any. “Shall we go?”
Five weeks and two days of not seeing Vanessa Pryce. After a year or two, he might stop thinking about her.
* * *
Taking a deep breath, Vanessa parked her rental in front of Justin’s condo. She needed to get out of the car, but fear and apprehension kept her stuck in her seat. She didn’t know how to start the conversation. Amazing really, when you thought about it—as a lawyer she wasn’t exactly the tongue-tied type. But Justin wasn’t an opposing counsel or a hostile witness.