“Of course, sir.” Soren spoke without glancing up from his plate.
Julian left, and Camille turned her focus on Soren. “Hey, why are you sitting over there?”
“It is not my place to eat at the same table as my employer.”
“I’m not your employer. Come sit with me?”
“You are my employer’s wife.” He gave her an exaggerated look of reproach. “Same thing.”
“Okay, so if I’m like your employer...then I’m telling you to come sit with me.”
Soren laughed as if sincerely amused. “Nice try.”
Camille stood, grabbed her plate and headed to the counter. “If you won’t join me...then I’ll join you.”
“Dining with the hired help.” He let out one of those ironic laughs. “You’re going to fit in nicely at Pacifique de Lumière.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself. I’m the hired help, too.”
Soren stopped and his demeanor turned to stone. “You must never say that again.”
“It’s just a joke.”
“Not even joking.” He paused, no glimmer of sympathy showing on his face. “No one can ever suspect that this marriage isn’t real.”
“Geez, Soren...you’re one loyal guy.” She envied it from Julian’s perspective, but felt sorrow from Soren’s standpoint. His loyalty seemed unappreciated because he and Julian weren’t friends. They had a working relationship and nothing more. Soren felt himself beneath Julian, evident by his own judgment that he didn’t deserve to eat at the same table.
Camille didn’t understand the ways of the wealthy.
“It’s all part of my job.” Soren nodded and cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with the comparison between himself and Julian.
“Do you ever worry that your efforts will be in vain?” she asked, thinking of her own misplaced loyalty in Margo Fontaine.
“No.” Soren’s head shook in defiance. “Julian de Laurent is an honorable man. And I’m certain he’d never put me in a position that would require me to compromise my values.”
“Really?” That surprised her. “So you’re okay with this little charade of ours?”
He paused for a moment, as if thinking it over. “It’s not like either of you are hurting anyone. He’s not taking advantage of you, and you’re not taking advantage of him. You’ve simply entered into a business deal where both of you are in complete agreement on the details.”
“That’s true.”
“And in the long run, I do believe this is what is best for Mr. de Laurent. He would never be happy....” Soren’s words trailed off and a look crossed his face suggesting he’d said too much.
“He’d never be happy...?” Camille repeated Soren’s words, turning them into a question.
He hesitated, as if guarding a secret. When he finally did speak, it was evasive. “Mr. de Laurent’s freedom is what will make him happy.”
“How can you be so sure of that?”
“Because he told me so.”
Camille chuckled. “Man, I need a friend like you, Soren.” If only Tasha listened this effectively.
“Does Mrs. de Laurent have a knack for picking fair-weather friends?”
Camille snorted. “That’s one way to put it.”
“Perhaps Mrs. de Laurent is searching for friends in all the wrong places?”
“Sounds like a country song.”
Soren chuckled. “I see what Mr. de Laurent finds so fascinating about you.”
“He finds me fascinating?” Her voice escalated, like those cheerleaders did in high school when they just found out the captain of the football team was into them.
Soren looked at her with an absent stare. “Yes, I do believe those were his words...‘she’s simply fascinating’.”
Camille couldn’t fathom why that pleased her, but it did. “Soren...” She hesitated and then leaned toward him touching his arm. “How do you feel about going shopping with me?”
“Oh, I never miss a chance to spend de Laurent money.” He held a stoic face for about ten seconds and then burst into laughter. “Seriously, I also never miss a chance to see a pretty girl in fine clothing.” His amusement showed on his face. “It will be my pleasure.”
Pretty girl, huh? He’s definitely been listening to his employer, and taking notes.
“Does Julian have a favorite color?” Camille’s inquiry touched something inside her. For a wild moment she wanted to please Julian, and then she wondered why she cared.
“I believe it’s red.” A smile curled on the tips of his mouth. “A color that will no doubt suit you beautifully.”
A blush warmed her cheeks even though red wasn’t anywhere near the top of her favorite color list. She preferred electric blue or a spring green, both colors that brought out her eyes. But she’d make an effort to look like an obliging wife because that’s what was expected. She was just trying to meld herself into the part and nothing more.
Camille had given her loyalty to too many people who didn’t deserve it. Like her parents for instance. Her father had split when he found out her mother was pregnant. And her mother hadn’t lasted three months after Camille’s birth. At seventeen, a baby was too much trouble. Camille had forever after had a love-hate relationship with her parents, resenting them for not caring enough to stick around, thankful they’d left her in the care of her maternal grandmother. And still she carried them in her heart, waiting for them to prove she wasn’t a waste.
Those days of misplaced loyalty were over.
Julian entered the Bellagio’s main lobby and approached the front desk, fiddling with the jewelry box in his pocket. He hoped she liked it. He probably should’ve gotten her opinion on the rings but there wasn’t time, and he was old-fashioned about that sort of thing. It was his gift to her, not her gift to herself through him. But most women, he’d come to learn, weren’t overly picky as long as the rock was big.
“Is there a package for me?” he asked the concierge.
The lady’s polite smile offered confirmation before she answered. “Yes sir, a messenger dropped it off moments ago.” She stepped back and moved toward the cubicles behind her.
At the other end of the counter a stunning—artificial, but stunning—young woman was in the midst of an altercation with the clerk. Her blonde hair had been perfectly coiffed. Her dress was nice but gave the appearance of being more expensive than it really was. Her shapely body was too perfect. She’d spent a lot of money to look the way she did. Definitely not Julian’s type.
A girl like her would be too high maintenance. Not that he couldn’t afford it, but he didn’t want a woman who was so centered on vanity that nothing else mattered. No, this girl was more Andre’s type. Little brother loved sporting a trophy on his arm.
“Look, I know she’s here,” the Barbie doll said. “She said she was coming to this hotel specifically.”
“I’m sorry, Miss...” The clerk waited for her name.
“Ms. Gordon. It’s Ms. Gordon.” An irritated tone edged her voice. “And I know my friend Camille Chandler is here, in this hotel. Somewhere.”
What? She’s looking for Camille. But why?
The concierge handed Julian a large manila envelope. He took it and closed the gap between himself and the girl. “Excuse me, Miss...”
She gave him one look, smirked and raised a defying hand. “Are you hotel security? I’m not going anywhere. I know my friend is in this hotel, somewhere.”
“I can assure you that I’m not hotel security.” Julian laughed inside. Of course she was a friend of Camille’s. Neither of them took shit from anybody. “But I do know where Camille Chandler is.”
“You do?” she said, almost grateful.
“I’ll just call her,” he said, going for his cell phone.
“I already tried to call her.” She inclined her head in defeat. “She’s not answering her phone.”
Julian hit the speed dial. “One second.” He waited for Soren to answer the call.
“Soren.” The
valet answered immediately.
Julian thought about asking for Mrs. de Laurent but thought better of it. It was probably best to let Camille tell the girl, whoever she was, about their arrangement herself. “Is Camille close by? I need to talk to her.”
Within seconds Camille said with a gentle softness, “What’s up?”
Did Camille have any idea how sensuous her voice sounded?
Julian discarded his wandering thoughts and focused on the girl before him. “There’s someone here who’d like to speak with you.”
“Who?” Her voice was edgy and filled with conjecture.
Julian’s gaze traveled up to meet the feisty girl’s. “Your name?”
“My name?” Her eyes widened with an impatient glare. “Give me that damn phone.” She yanked Julian’s cell from his hand. “Camille?”
Oh shit. “Tasha. What are you doing with Julian?” Camille said quickly over her choking, pounding heart.
Soren and Camille exited one of the Lobby Shops at the Bellagio.
“What am I doing with Julian?” Tasha asked in a subtle, mocking tone. “The better question is...what are you doing with Julian?”
“We’ll talk about that later.” Camille used a tone she knew Tasha would recognize as a discreet warning to keep her mouth shut. “Where are you?” She and Soren entered the lobby where she saw Julian and Tasha at the registration desk across the way. “Never mind. I see you.” She disconnected the call and handed the phone to Soren.
Camille had a couple of bags in her hands and Soren toted the rest. He’d protested over her carrying any of them, but she’d insisted. Soren hadn’t handled it very well, but she hadn’t given him a choice. Now that they’d come face-to-face with Julian, Soren’s posture seemed to crumble right along with his composure.
Camille’s first stop was Julian, rather than Tasha. “Look,” She whispered against his ear. “Don’t say anything to him about me carrying the bags, okay? I insisted.”
“Chéri, you really should let him do his job.” Julian’s response was kind, but firm.
“He did do his job.” Camille’s gaze followed Julian’s until she’d wrangled it into submission. “He helped me pick out some great clothes.” She acknowledged the bags in her hands before turning her back on Julian and moving toward Tasha. “What are you doing here?”
“What’s going on, Camille? I called your work and Margo said—”
Camille shushed Tasha, cutting her off. She flashed her friend a look that she hoped was oppressive before turning to face Julian. “This is Tasha, my best friend. She and I need to talk.”
“May I take your bags?” He held out his hands. “Why don’t you go into the cafe and have a drink. I’ll join you in about half an hour and we’ll all have lunch.”
Camille gladly gave Julian her shopping bags, happy to get rid of him so she could smooth Tasha’s curiosity without giving herself away.
Julian looked her over with an inspecting glance. His lips curled into a faint smile as his gaze traveled up to meet hers. “Nice outfit. The color suits you,” he said of the red and black designer clothing.
She prayed Tasha had kept her mouth shut. Julian moved closer, his intention to kiss her cheek clear. Camille froze. Warm lips brushed against her face and sent chills roving over her body.
Julian turned to Tasha. “I look forward to getting to know Camille’s friend over lunch.” He offered a friendly smile and bowed.
Soren dipped his chin and followed Julian.
Camille’s gaze got stuck on Julian for a moment. A little distance lightened the weight on her shoulders. She drew a breath and turned to her friend. A few wrong words from Tasha and Camille’s plan would be ruined.
CHAPTER FIVE
TASHA DRAPED HER ARM around Camille’s and they walked toward the Café Bellagio. “What the heck’s going on?” she whispered. “And where on earth did you get this outfit?”
Camille drew a breath and held it. “I told you I was doing a story. Undercover.”
“And Margo told me you’re no longer with Disclosure.”
“She did, did she?” Camille shuddered inwardly. “Did she also tell you that she’s an unreasonable shrew?”
Tasha’s eyebrows shot up.
Camille cleared her throat as they approached the maître’d, signaling Tasha to keep quiet.
“Ah, Mrs. de Laurent. Will you and your companion be joining us for lunch?”
“Yes. Could we have a private table? Somewhere out of the way?”
“But of course.” He led them out to the garden area.
“Mrs. de Laurent?” Tasha whispered.
Camille shushed Tasha, and turned her attention to the maître’d, saying, “Mr. de Laurent will be joining us shortly.”
“Thank you,” the girls said in unison.
He pulled out two chairs at a table surrounded by plants and foliage in the café’s exquisite botanical gardens. While daffodils and snow drops were in full bloom behind their table, Camille recognized the scent of jasmine lingering in the air.
“Unsweetened iced tea?” The waiter confirmed her choice.
Camille nodded.
He turned to Tasha, “And what would you like? A pomegranate martini perhaps?”
She hesitated, in thought. “Yes,” she nodded, “I believe I will.” She watched him walk away and turned to Camille. “I believe I’m going to need it.”
“Why are you here?” Camille asked again. “I told you I was on a story. You could’ve easily blown my cover.”
“You’re not on a story. You were fired.”
“I wasn’t fired. I quit.”
“You say tomato. I say tomato,” she said, using the American and English versions of the pronunciations. “Did you marry that guy?”
She thought about lying, but it wasn’t a good idea. Camille was knee-deep in lies as it was. “Yes.”
“What?” The long lashes shading her cheeks flew up. “Where’d you meet him? I didn’t know you were seeing anybody, much less thinking about getting married.” Tasha studied her suspiciously. “Is that why you quit?” she said, with a flash of curiosity. “Where’s he from anyway? Somewhere in Europe, I bet.” An enlightening smile curled on her plump, red lips. “Ooh...that’s why Margo’s so mad because you up and quit.”
Maybe the best thing for everyone was to let Tasha think the marriage was real. “Look, don’t say anything to him about my employment at Disclosure Magazine or what happened. I don’t want him to start thinking he’s robbed me of my career.”
“Yeah, that’s not a great way to start a marriage, is it?” She paused, reaching for a goblet of water. “Maybe you should just tell him you’re an aspiring actress. That way, it’s easy enough to explain away your lack of real work.” Tasha was reiterating her parents objections to her acting career, or lack thereof, as Tasha was the epitome of an aspiring actress who hadn’t caught her big break.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“I am curious about one thing though?” she said, with a hint of questioning in her tone. “When you called, why’d you say you were on a story?”
“I thought you’d try to talk me out of marrying Julian.”
“Why would I do that?” she asked. “It’s obvious he’s crazy about you.”
Surprise blasted through Camille. Tasha didn’t need to see her composure crumbling. She held her breath and arrested the astonishment, holding it inside.
“When were you going to tell me?” Tasha threw an accusing glare at Camille.
“When I called to invite you to be a member of the wedding party for the ceremony in France.” Well, it sounded good anyway.
“France?” Her mood changed, turning buoyant. “Are you shitting me?”
Camille shook her head. “His family lives in Marseilles. Most of the time.”
She looked at Camille’s attire again and drew a sharp breath, like she’d discovered the queen’s jewels. “This guy’s like super rich, isn’t he?” The words came out like a question b
ut there was no inquiry in her tone.
Camille considered lying. Again. But abandoned the idea. “Yes.”
“Oh, man, no wonder you didn’t tell me about him.” Her devilish laughter validated Camille’s reservations.
“Precisely.”
“I wouldn’t have hit on him, though. Not when you’re so clearly into him.”
Camille snorted. “Since when did that ever stop you?”
“Well okay, there was that one time,” she said, as if it wasn’t as important as Camille had deemed. “But he provoked me.”
“Just stay away from Julian, okay.”
“Oh, no worries there.” Her mouth pulled into a tight-lipped smile. “He’s not into me. He’s all about you.”
Good. She was glad Tasha saw it that way—no matter how distorted her view was. It saved Camille a lot of grief in the long run.
“Okay, so, remember not a word of Disclosure or any of that stuff.” Camille hoped her stern voice was effective.
“Mum’s the word.” Her friend nodded her head slyly. “So, when’s the French wedding?”
Camille had no idea. But she knew the European wedding needed to take place soon because of the pre-nup provisions. So, the sooner the better. “Probably a couple of weeks.”
“I’ll bet there are some hot guys in France. When do I get to come?”
“We’ll see what Julian says. I don’t even know where we’re going to live.” She laughed, her confidence wavering. “He said something about a family home in Marseilles.”
“Oh, god, you’re not going to have to live with his parents, are you?”
“Geez, I hope not.”
Camille hadn’t really thought about that, but she should’ve when he told her about his family home. Maybe she could talk him into leasing a place in Marseilles. If not, hopefully his family home was a really big house. The last thing she wanted was to feel like she was under someone’s scrutinizing eye.
She saw Julian crossing a gardened path and straightened in her chair. “Oh, here’s Julian.”
Camille’s gaze followed Tasha’s to Julian who’d stopped a waiter in his path. After a few verbal exchanges the waiter walked away and Julian moved toward them, smiling at Camille. Sitting, he scooted his chair close to hers.
The Marriage Bargain Page 5