The Billionaire’s Secret Wife(58)

Finally she fell back on her heels, her head lolling listlessly against the cold tiled wall. Her insides felt like somebody had raked them clean. She crawled to the sink and gripped the porcelain edge, pulling herself up. Then very slowly, she flushed the toilet and cleaned herself up. The mirror showed her an awful reflection. Red blotches mottled her pale face, and tendrils of hair hung limp with sweat and water.

A small glass of ginger ale appeared in her vision. “This should help,” Al said.

“Thanks,” she said hoarsely. She took a small sip of the cold, sweet drink. Her throat hurt too much to finish it. “I’d like to go home. And if you heard anything, don’t tell anybody. I’ll deal with it later.” She had no idea what she was going to say about the news.

“Of course.” He glanced down at her still unsteady legs. “Would you like me to help you to your car?”

“Please.”

He escorted her down the stairs, his hands on her elbow and at the small of her back. She was grateful for the support. She didn’t think she could’ve made it on her own.

She climbed into her car. Her hands were trembling so badly, it took her a couple of tries to start the engine.

Salazar—dad—isn’t my dad after all. And she wasn’t who she’d thought she was all her life.

Her parents hated each other, used sex to hurt each other. All the love they’d professed for each other had been a big fat joke, lies spun to lead them on the most miserable path imaginable.

No wonder her father had seemed preoccupied whenever he was dealing with her. He probably wondered about the other man every time he looked at her.

Hot tears streamed down her cheeks and wet her shirt. She’d never suspected her parents’ marriage was something this foul. And never once did she expect to see her father lose control like that. Her father embodied cool, easy charm. Nothing…absolutely nothing had been able to ruffle his feathers.

Vanessa put her hands on the steering wheel, but she was too shaky to drive. Her legs felt stiff and heavy, and there was no way she could drive back to her condo in her condition.

She managed to pull out her phone and speed-dial Justin. “Can you come get me?” she asked as soon as he answered.

“What’s wrong?” His voice was tight. “Where are you?”

“Outside my parents’ house. Hurry.”

* * *

Justin cursed. Vanessa sounded awful, her voice thin and weak. He’d never heard her like that before. What had happened to her? And why was she at her parents’ place instead of the yoga studio?

He wasn’t familiar with L.A., but by taking directions over the phone as he drove he was able to reach the Pryces’ place within an hour. She was slumped over the steering wheel. He got out of his car and knocked on the window. “Hey.”

She raised her head. He gaped at how wretched she looked. Her eyes and nose were red, and tears glistened on her cheeks and chin. Her misery was a kick to his gut, and he opened the door.

“Sweetheart…what’s wrong?”

He got the seatbelt out of the way and wrapped his arms around her. Her control seemed precarious, so he simply cradled her head on his shoulder for the moment. Tremors ran through her; he whispered soothing nothings as he stroked her back.

A man who had to be Salazar’s butler appeared.

“What happened?” Justin demanded, starting to stand up.

“No.” Vanessa put a hand on his chest. “I just want to go home. Please?”

It was an effort not to grab the butler and start shaking answers out of him, but Justin took a rough breath and nodded. He grabbed her keys, purse and other items. “I’ll send somebody for the car.”

“That isn’t strictly necessary, sir,” the man said. “I can have it driven to her condo this afternoon if you’ll leave me the keys.”

Justin nodded in agreement. That would be easier. He didn’t want to leave Vanessa even for a moment.

She sat in the passenger seat, letting Justin take care of every detail. That more than anything else worried him. Vanessa was normally far too independent to just let people do things for her.

Her eyes were closed the entire time he drove, but he knew she wasn’t asleep. The sound of her breathing was erratic, and every so often she’d wipe at her eyes.

When they reached the condo, he made some hot lemon tea and handed it to her. She took a few sips, leaning against the kitchen counter. Then wordlessly, she put the mug down and went to the bedroom, shoulders slumped and feet dragging. She barely managed to kick off her shoes before she fell on the bed and curled up, hugging a pillow. Justin spooned her, breathing in the soft scent of her shampoo and sweat.