Belly of the Beast

Chapter 7

Traffic crawled along the crowded streets, and I watched Vincent focus silently on leading his Bentley through it unscathed. Many of the wealthy left the driving to their chauffeurs, but Vincent wasn't dependent on anyone. He was the master and commander, and I knew he would protect me and our child with his life. It was a feeling that left me breathless every time.

As I pulled out my phone to text Sylvie about the doctor visit, Vincent glanced at it. "You need to know something before you look at your social media feed."

"What do I need to know?"

"The text I got earlier came from a reporter at Mega Mag. She received an anonymous tip that your pregnancy would be leaked within the hour."

"Shit. It must have been one of those women in the waiting room."

"Or someone from the hospital in DC. It doesn't matter."

"So, did you confirm the pregnancy with her?"

"Yes. She agreed to take a formal statement over the phone and will publish it on their site ahead of everyone else."

"That's it then. We're all in." I grinned at him, letting the pregnancy glow take the place of my fading Australian tan. I needed to enjoy this, like Dr. Hardwick said.

"We're all in." Vincent took his hand off the wheel to squeeze mine. "How are you feeling? Are you up for a small detour?"

"A detour? From my couch prison? But my guards are so adorable?"

My joke had him gracing me with a rare Vincent smile. "I hope you're including your doting husband."

"Of course. So, where are you detouring us?"

"Can it be a surprise?"

I wasn't sure what to make of this version of Vincent. He seemed to be forgoing his usual chief-of-everything persona for the role of doting husband. "Are you asking me or telling me?"

"That depends on you. If it will upset you not to know, then I'll tell you." His smile turned sheepish, and I nearly burst into tears.

"Oh, you noticed, huh?" I dabbed my eyes with the tissue I'd taken from Dr. Hardwick's office, which was still crumpled in my hand. "Please, don't take it personally. I cried in front of Mr. Pearlman this morning. And you don't have to tell me where we're going. I like surprises."

With a confident nod, Vincent snapped back to monitoring the chaos outside the Bentley. When we reached the Garment District, I had a pretty good idea what Vincent was up to. He'd heard me whine about my lame clothing situation, and the darling had decided to take me shopping. What I didn't know was that the shopping was coming to me, and I couldn't keep the smile off my face as we walked into the studio of Todd X, renowned personal stylist and unapologetic wearer of chartreuse.

Todd's assistant, Claude, rushed to greet us, a measuring tape draped like an accessory over his navy and white polka dot blouse. His bleached-blonde hair, which he'd been very proud of the last time I saw him, was now accented by dark roots, which apparently was trending. "Vincent! Reese! Welcome to our humble studio," Claude gushed as he ushered us inside with an airy wave. "We've reserved the window seat, as you requested."

"I know it's short notice, but some moments need to be seized before the coffee kicks in."

Claude laughed high and loud. "So true, Vincent. So true. Carpe diem, as they say. Todd is just dragging his tired ass out of bed. I have refreshments on their way. Oh, and I'll bring in another chair for your guest. Just relax, you lovebirds."

After Claude bustled away, I asked Vincent the obvious question. "Who's our guest?"

"The reporter I talked to earlier, Charlotte Black." She suggested a full piece on us and the baby-to-be. She's bringing a photographer and one assistant. I can cancel if you're not okay with that."