The glass chilled quickly, frosting her fingers. She hurried back toward her seat and sipped the water before setting the glass on a nearby coffee-like table.
“Can I get you anything else?”
She shook her head. “Will Julian be joining me during the flight? I don’t really like sitting out here by myself.”
Soren’s sympathetic smile said he felt sorry for her. “I will inform Mr. de Laurent.” He bowed his head and backed out of the cabin.
The last couple of days had been long and stressful. Camille’s eyelids grew heavy and she scrutinized her chair and the sofa nearby. She moved to it, wanting to rest for a moment or two. The couch melded around her, lulling her into slumber.
Julian exited the cockpit and headed toward the cabin, fully aware of the haughty smirk spreading over his mouth.
Camille Chandler, soon to be de Laurent, was a force to be reckoned with. No doubt she could easily handle anything papa or Madeleine threw at her, but more than that, she had the makings to become a wildcat in bed.
Before the marriage was over, he would have her, and it wouldn’t happen out of a sense of obligation.
Watching her sleeping on the couch, he appraised her with more than mild interest. Her nubile body filled him with an inner excitement. Blonde hair strewn across her delicately carved face beckoned him to her side.
“Chéri.” Gentle fingers swept her hair back.
She stumbled out of the sleepy fog and when her gaze settled on Julian, a hint of pink stained her cheeks.
“We’re about to take off. The seatbelt is a good idea.”
She sat up and, to his dismay, inched away from him.
“Gee, I didn’t realize I was so tired.” Camille fumbled for the seatbelt.
He placed a hand on her shoulder, hoping to calm her. “No worries, Chéri. Once we’re in the air there’s a state room where you can rest.”
The color in her cheeks deepened and a bewildered smile touched her face. “Do you have any food? I’m kind of hungry.”
“Food? Of course. What would you like?”
“What do you got?”
“Soren,” Julian lifted his voice slightly.
His assistant appeared. “Sir.”
“Miss Chandler is hungry. I trust we have something that will meet with her approval once we’re in the air?”
“Most of the dinners we have will take longer to prepare than we will be in the air,” Soren said. “We do have sandwich meals. Turkey or ham, I believe.”
Julian looked at Camille.
“Turkey.” She nodded.
“Excellent.” Julian’s smile turned on at half-power as he leaned back against the sofa.
Camille reached for her water glass and glanced at Julian.
He stretched his arms along the back of the couch. “Will our U.S. wedding take place this evening or tomorrow?”
With a shrug born in indifference she waved and said, “How about this evening?” She didn’t say anything more until his gaze met hers. “Do you think we can get someone from one of the chapels to come to our suite instead of going there? I know you want to keep it under wraps.”
“If that’s what you want. I’ll make it happen.” He touched her cheek in a wistful gesture. “We’ll want to wait until my legal counsel drops by, of course.”
There was no way they’d be tying any knots before they’d signed prenuptial agreements and business contracts. Julian was a lot of things, but he wasn’t stupid.
“We can wait until tomorrow if it helps.”
Soren came in and the mild scent of turkey filled the cabin. Julian’s stomach ached. Perhaps he should’ve ordered something.
Camille straightened and clasped her hands in her lap. Soren placed a tray with everything she could possibly want on the table before them. She opened the sandwich and tossed aside the lettuce and tomato, painted the bread with a thin layer of mayonnaise, dusted it with salt and pepper, and slapped it back together again. She cut the sandwich in half and grabbed a portion.
“You want the other half?” she asked, raising the sandwich to her mouth.
“You go ahead.” Not that Julian wouldn’t mind it, but he didn’t want to take food from her. He could have Soren bring in another but his instincts said they’d be landing soon. “I’ll get something once we get to the hotel.”
Her face darkened with rebellion. She dropped her half of the sandwich onto the plate and picked up the other. “You want some mayo or mustard on this?”
Julian shook his head.
“Look, we can both get something at the hotel,” she said. “But for now, we’ll just have this to tide us over.”
A chuckle ventured up Julian’s throat. Trying to resist her was futile. He accepted the sandwich, as is, and took a bite. The bread was void of moisture and not appealing taste-wise. “Pretty dry,” he said with a wink.
They laughed.
“I think room service should be at the top of our list once we’re settled into the hotel.” Her infectious grin set the tone for fun.
The phone on the table beside Julian rang. He snatched it up before it had the chance to jingle a second time. “Yes.”
He listened and after a brief interlude, hung up the receiver and turned to Camille. “We’ll be landing directly,” he said. “You have your seatbelt on?”
She nodded with a flicker of amusement in her eyes, as if she found his attentiveness both invigorating and irritating.
Julian fastened his seatbelt. The puzzle pieces of his future were starting to fall into place. Everything would be fine so long as Camille didn’t go running for the hills once she met Papa and Madeleine.
Camille and Julian registered in the Bellagio’s executive suite lounge rather than the hotel’s front lobby. She had no idea that high-profile guests were accommodated in this privileged manner. There was a lot to learn about Julian’s world.
After the party checked in, including Soren and Julian’s pilot, they rode the private elevators up to the thirty-fourth floor to one of the hotel’s Villas.
The five bedroom suite’s décor captivated Camille with its plush bright red couches and chairs, fine furniture in tan and gold and topped with black marble. On the far side, a wall of windows draped in red and gold curtains caught her attention and landed on a fireplace smack-dab in the middle. Wow. Outside a terrace boasted immaculately groomed gardens and a private pool. Double wow.
Julian grabbed her hand and she floated along as he pulled her toward one of the rooms. “This will be your bedchamber,” he said, opening the door.
He knew his way around. He’d been here before. She couldn’t imagine paying for this place one night, much less multiple times.
Camille stepped inside a room that borrowed its theme from the suite’s outer area. Red leather chairs and a matching bed frame were happily situated amid the grandeur of old-world European elegance. The king-size bed, covered in a pink and red floral print, looked inviting.
“You look tired, Chéri.” Julian brushed Camille’s bangs out of her face. “Why don’t you rest for a bit?” He leaned against the doorframe, and the smile in his eyes glowed with a sensuous flame. “When Davis gets here, I’ll let you know.”
She exhaled a long sigh of admiration. Julian was respecting her space and not making demands or assumptions. His thoughtfulness was winning him points.
“All right.” She looked down and backed away from him. He turned and closed the door as he left.
A cry of relief broke from her lips. Thank god he’d left, before she had the chance to throw herself at him.
Julian returned to the suite’s living room and Soren handed him a scotch, straight up. He needed it. He was close, but any minute things could fall apart. Julian was a firm believer in Murphy’s Law. If something could go wrong, it would happen to him.
He drained the glass, set it on the marble-topped wet bar and moved toward the wall of windows overlooking the garden and the pool. The Nevada sky was in the midst of a desert twilight an
d the terrace lights were beginning to flicker on in a warm, subtle hue.
Soren was at his side instantly, handing him a refill. Julian took it and gave his valet a quick nod. “I think it’s going to work.”
“You have seen to every detail.”
“Yes, but sometimes that doesn’t help.” He shook his head and glanced out the window at the darkening sky and brightening poolside lights. “Things have a way of falling apart easily.”
“But you’re quite adept at not letting that happen,” Soren reminded him. “You think things through thoroughly. You see every aspect down to the last detail.” Soren paused, catching his breath. “I’m sure this will be no exception.”
“Well, Soren,” Julian said, “let’s hope you’re right.” The doorbell rang, grabbing both men’s attention. “I’ll get it,” Julian said, stepping in front of Soren and moving toward the door. Hopefully it was Davis.
Julian hurried across the room and opened the door. Davis greeted Julian with a handshake and a smile they only taught at law school.
Julian stepped back and gestured him inside the suite.
“I have the paperwork you’ve requested. It’s ready for signatures.”
“Can you get it filed today?” Julian asked, leading him to the wet bar.
“Yes, I can get it filed this evening.”
“Good.” Julian gestured to the counter. “You can prepare the papers, I’ll get Ms. Chandler.” He moved toward the hallway behind the dining area.
At Camille’s bedroom door, Julian knocked softly and waited for her vocal response. After the second knock, he heard her voice drift through the door. “Yes.”
“Chéri, may I come in?”
The door opened. Camille was in a bathrobe, her hair wet and clinging to her face. God, she looked sexy. Julian wanted to know what was under the robe. Nothing, he’d guess. He’d sure like to peel it off, discard it onto the floor and run his hands through her damp tresses before exploring every inch of her naked body.
She smiled, tousled her hair with a towel and gestured him inside. “I decided to take a shower.”
“The prenuptial agreement is here and waiting for our signatures. If we can sign it now, it can be filed directly and we are free to wed before leaving tomorrow. If that’s still your wish.”
He didn’t know what her wish was, but his was to have his way with her. But that wasn’t going to happen tonight. It would take some finesse to woo her into his bed.
“That is our deal,” she said. “I’ll just slip on some clothes and be right out.”
He wrenched himself away from his ridiculous fixation with her arresting body. His heart thudded a couple of times and then settled back to its natural rhythm. “Of course.” He backed out of the room and closed the door.
You idiot. Acting like a teenage boy who’d never seen a half-naked girl was not a winning attribute.
Julian forced himself back out into the common area where Soren and the attorney were waiting. He smiled and summoned his confidence. “She will be out directly. She’s changing clothes. You know how women are.”
Both Soren and Davis laughed. The attorney offered Julian a fountain pen. “You can sign now and we’ll get her signature when she comes out.”
Julian stepped forward and took the pen, turning his attention to the papers on the bar. Three sets. One for him. One for her. And one for the American courts. He picked up a copy and scanned it quickly but with expertise. Satisfied that it was all there just as he’d stipulated, he signed the copies one by one.
When he was done, Camille entered the room dressed in a pair of blue jeans and a skintight red t-shirt. She walked across the room with sunken shoulders, possibly self-conscious about her breast size. But Julian, being a leg man, was preoccupied with her long, shapely legs. They more than made up for her small breasts.
She moved to the bar, scooped up one of the documents and began reading it. She took her time reviewing each page carefully, and finally when she reached the end of the last page she looked at Davis. “So, this basically says if we stay married for at least six months, I’ll get five million dollars?”
“That is what it says in a nutshell.” Davis rubbed his nose.
“Good.” She grabbed a pen and signed the copy she’d been reading. Then she proceeded to compare it to each of the other two copies before signing them. Clearly, she didn’t trust people, and Julian wondered what made her so suspicious. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that people were always letting her down.
People, as a general rule, were unreliable. Julian knew that to be true. It had happened to him. It had happened to his mother—his real mother. She’d died, killed herself, when he was five. His father had remarried shortly thereafter, and it was as if his natural mother had never existed. Claudette, his stepmother, had taken her place, and even though she’d always loved Julian and Andre just as much as she’d loved her own child Lecie, Julian had never forgotten his real mother.
CHAPTER FOUR
BRIGHT AND VIVID SUNLIGHT painted the first hues of the day, awakening Camille from her cozy slumber. The lavish bedroom suite at the Bellagio reminded her where she was and of yesterday’s events. Considering she’d spent her wedding night alone, her sleep had been surprisingly restful. She forced herself up and out of bed and stumbled into her private bathroom. A quick shower would put things into perspective.
Too bad it didn’t work.
Half an hour in the shower hadn’t done anything except give her insecurities time to awaken and fester. She stared at her reflection in the mirror and raked a comb through her damp hair.
When was Julian going to wake up and take a long, hard look at her? There was nothing regal about Camille. Or refined. She was pretty sure Julian could secure the hand of just about anybody in marriage. Why her?
Because it isn’t real. She had to keep reminding herself of the conditions that brought about this union. For her own sake, she couldn’t get lost in the fairytale factor that emanated around Julian. Her mother had probably seen it, although to a lesser degree, in dear old dad. Camille was painfully aware of how that turned out as she’d never met her father. Her mother had come around a couple of times when Camille was little, but she never stayed long. She was constantly off on some other adventure, always too busy to take on the task of raising her own child.
Camille slipped into a pair of jeans and a loose-flowing print blouse. She drew a breath and summoned the courage to face her first day as Mrs. Julian de Laurent.
Inside the suite’s dining room, her new husband was sitting at the table, all decked out in one of his tailor-made suits.
He looked up, smiled when their eyes met and stood, pulling a chair out for her. “Good morning, Chéri.” His deep voice filled with amusement. “I trust you slept well?”
Smelling the faint citrus scent of his aftershave, she settled into the chair next to him. She propped one foot up and reached for the coffee mug, disappointed by its emptiness. Soren was at her side immediately and filling her cup. “Good morning, Mrs. de Laurent.”
She glanced at Julian, who seemed utterly amused, and then let her gaze travel to Soren. A shadow darkened the valet’s face and Camille realized she’d frowned at him. She tried to offer an apologetic smile, but wasn’t sure it’d come out right. Then she saw him grinning.
“Thank you.” She reached for the sugar bin.
“I asked specifically for some of your Splenda,” Julian said.
“Well, it isn’t my Splenda, but thanks.” She stacked a couple of packets together and ripped off their ends. Pouring the contents into her cup, she glanced at Julian. “So, what’s on the agenda today? When do we leave here?”
“Perhaps this evening.” Julian played with his food, dancing the fork around his plate. “The hotel has several boutiques. I thought perhaps you’d like to go shopping.” His unquestioning tone reminded Camille of their lifestyle differences. She wore what she could afford, and he wore whatever he wanted.
�
�Oh yeah, the clothes thing.” She stirred uneasily in the chair and distracted herself by grabbing a plate. Not that she bought into the notion his money made him better than her, but it was hard to ignore Julian’s mega-success. It magnified her less-than-spectacular start in life. Camille’s fingers tensed around her fork as she stabbed a piece of ham off the serving dish.
He looked as if he was weighing the options, but didn’t appear the least bit aware about her insecurities. “Be sure to procure a full wardrobe.”
Camille’s gaze froze on Julian and her fork stalled in mid-air. “What constitutes a full wardrobe?” What an odd choice of words. It sounded so old-fashioned.
Julian hesitated, probably rethinking his choice. Too late. They’d already signed the papers. The deal was done. The marriage had happened. And besides, he owed her.
“Would you like Soren to accompany you on your shopping excursion?”
Soren? Well, okay. Maybe. “I guess. Sure.” But why wasn’t Julian going with her? Because he’s not really your husband, that’s why? “But what about you?” She paused, knowing she was probably sticking her nose in where it didn’t belong. “Doesn’t he take care of things for you?”
Julian chuckled. “Yes, he does. And by helping you out today, he will be helping me.”
“Can’t argue with that.”
Soren grabbed a plate and moved around the table, filling it, and then went to the nearby kitchen counter. Camille didn’t understand why he had to eat over there. She didn’t like the separation.
Julian stood, wiped his hands on his napkin and dropped it onto the table. “I have some business to attend to before we leave the country. Would you like to meet for lunch downstairs at the Café Bellagio?”
She gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Sure.”
Julian kissed the top of her head and moved toward the door.
Money? How was she supposed to pay for the clothes. “Julian...” She rested her wrist on the edge of the table and perched her hand in the air. “I, ah...”
As if he sensed her dilemma, he said, “Soren has all the necessary bank cards.” Julian paused, letting his gaze travel to Soren. “Just let her buy whatever she wants.”
The Marriage Bargain Page 4