The Billionaire's Pregnant Virgin

Chapter 8: Our Little Secret

I need to stop worrying about Devin and Catriona's marriage falling apart before I start to spiral. I keep telling myself that everything will be fine.

Besides, if they were truly in such a bad place then they wouldn't be going through all this trouble to have a baby, would they?

Most importantly, I remind myself, it's absolutely, positively none of my business.

"So, what do you think?" Devin asks, breaking me from my reverie.

"Honestly, I think everything's going to go really well," I tell him. "I'm going to stick to Cat's schedule and meal plan—well, after this lunch, of course—and I'm going to give you both a beautiful, healthy baby."

Devin stares at me without moving for a second, then starts to laugh. "I'm sure you will, Isabel, but I was talking about the food. How do you like it?"

My heart sinks and my face gets incredibly hot. How embarrassing.

"Oh," I whisper, shifting in my seat. "It's great, really good."

"Great," Devin echoes. A grin spreads on his face. "If you play your cards right, maybe we can sneak off here again," he adds in a conspiratorial tone.

I sit back in my chair, unsure of how to take this. He isn't...flirting with me...is he?

Reality slaps me in the face immediately. There's no way the devilishly handsome billionaire playboy sitting across from me could have any interest. Even if he wasn't married to a stunningly beautiful supermodel.

Get over yourself, Isabel.

***

A waiter comes back to the table and piles up our plates. I give him a smile and an appreciative, "Thank you!" before he walks away.

Across from me, Devin is scrawling on a glossy slip. Part of me wants to peek over and see how big of a tip a billionaire leaves at one of his favorite restaurants. I decide not to let curiosity take over and glance up at the ceiling instead.

A quick, loopy scratch on the other side of the table informs me that he's made his signature. I gather up my phone and my purse, then go to stand up.

"I hope you enjoyed your meal," Devin says, pushing in his chair.

"It was really good, yeah," I reply a little too quickly. "Th-thank you so much for taking me here."

"The pleasure is all mine," his voice rumbles again.

He lifts his hand, gesturing for me to go first down the stairs and back into the main restaurant. The loud chatter from the other tables is jarring after our quiet lunch alone up there.

I can feel several pairs of eyes as we pass through, hearing whispers that sound an awful lot like Devin's name.

"Who is that girl?"

"Why is she with him?"

"Where's Catriona?"

"Ignore them," Devin hisses into my ear.

I nod my head to show him that I've heard his message and keep walking.

We finally enter the lobby. Miguel is again speaking to the hostess in hushed tones, but stops when he sees us.

"Wait, Devin!" Miguel calls, holding up a hand toward us.

Devin turns as Miguel comes out from behind the podium and goes to shake his hand. "I just wanted to thank you again."

"What for?" Devin asks.

"What for?" Miguel grins, shaking his head. "No point in being so modest, my friend. I see you dropping our name into interviews all over Miami."