The Billionaire’s Secret Wife(51)

“I’m not sure about Dane, though. I just left a message with his assistant. And I invited your parents as well.”

She looked up quickly. “Both of them?”

“Yes. I thought about doing it separately, but each asked me to invite the other.”

Vanessa frowned. She’d been certain they wouldn’t want to be anywhere near each other. Maybe they just didn’t want to be jerks in front of the new Sterling son-in-law. Getting Justin was a coup by anyone’s standards, and if her grandmother had been alive, she would’ve praised Vanessa to the skies. “By the way, Kerri called. I think we may have to do an obligatory dinner or something soon with your side of the family, too.”

“No, we don’t, not unless you want to.”

She shook her head. “The cat’s out of the bag, so we should do what’s expected of us. I don’t want any friction, especially right off the bat.” She knew what that was like at home with her family, all the tension and unspoken words on every holiday. It would be nice to avoid that, not just for her sake, but for the sake of their child. She didn’t particularly look forward to holidays, but she wanted her children to anticipate every one of them with joy.

“Okay. I’ll take care of it. And let Rita know when your next doctor’s appointment is so she can put that on my calendar.”

“Aren’t you going to be busy?” The accident from the day before must’ve screwed up his schedule for the next few weeks.

“I’m always busy.” He put a warm, strong hand over her belly. “But you and the baby matter more.”

She blinked away sudden tears. She didn’t know why she felt like crying just now when he was being so sweet. It had to be hormones.

Or maybe she was just scared he was becoming too irresistible for her own good. She could put up a shield against thoughtless gestures and harsh words, but what protection was there against such sweetness when all she wanted to do was sink into it? It spun seductive images of their future, each one a giant wave of warmth and happiness washing over the dark frissons of her doubts.

She put her arms around him and buried her face in his chest. Then wished fervently that what they had would never change.

* * *

Éternité was packed by the time Vanessa and Justin arrived. It was an interesting melding of French and Japanese sensibilities. The transparent hangings with hand-embroidered designs swirling like flags from the high ceiling reflected the meeting of east and west. Justin had never been to the restaurant, but he assumed it would be excellent—after all, it was Mark’s.

The tuxedoed maître d’ led them to a private party room on the second level. Justin’s mouth watered at the scent of seared meat and seafood and butter and sauces. He hadn’t realized he was quite that hungry. He turned to Vanessa. “Are you feeling okay? No nausea or anything?”

“I’m fine.”

He squeezed her gently, and they went in to meet their dinner companions.

Her brothers, Iain and Mark, were both dark with what everyone called the classic Pryce profile—clean and aristocratic, with a high forehead and a patrician angle to the bridge of the nose. Nobody looking at them would have ever questioned the family connection. Justin noted Iain’s slightly narrowed eyes. His friend was probably feeling conflicted right now. He was quite protective of his siblings, since Dane, the oldest Pryce brother, was somewhat of a jerk. Justin considered Iain the “good cop” of the two, while Mark was just laid back.

As predicted, they’d also brought their fiancées. Next to Iain was a brunette with a shy smile who must be Jane Connolly. How surprising. Justin had always thought his friend would end up with a flashy model named after a fruit. Mark had come with Hilary Rosenberg, whom Justin was familiar with already. He and her boss were related by marriage.

Hilary and Jane rose and hugged Vanessa, then Hilary introduced Jane and Justin, while the Pryce men greeted their sister.

“Where are your folks?” Justin asked.

“They’re both running late,” Mark said. “Just called a few minutes ago. Separately, of course. We better talk before they show.”

Justin quirked an eyebrow. Surely Salazar and Ceinlys could be civilized for something like this, even if it came during their divorce. After all, they’d been civilized while they were married, and their relationship had been nothing more than a wedded farce.

Iain turned to Vanessa. “Tell me how this came about.”

“How it came about? We eloped. What’s there to say?”

Mark snorted. “You’re not the eloping type.” He opened the menu and perused it. A superfluous gesture. Mark probably knew every item by heart. “Don’t get the special,” he said.