She peered at him, trying to find a reason to back out while sifting through all the advantages of following through at the same time. Money. A hottie husband—who cared if it wasn’t real. No worries for six months. Some potentially great sex. Luxuries beyond anything she could envision.
“Well, it might be fun to play rich for a little while,” she said, selling herself on the idea.
“On the contrary, Chéri, you will be rich, moderately so anyway. Remember, I am paying you five million dollars.”
Julian did have a point. But Camille had a feeling the degree of wealth she was about to experience was beyond her wildest dreams.
A fun prospect, but she was more concerned about ending up homeless and unable to find a job in the field which she’d spent tens of thousands of dollars on in educational fees.
She just wanted to get on with it and secure her future. And right now, marrying Julian de Laurent for the whole of six months seemed appealing for more than one reason. Of course, the option would cruise out the window real quick if he knew why she’d changed her mind.
No way could she tell him she’d lost her job at Disclosure Magazine when she refused to accept his proposal and turn the experience into a story. Like he’d really believe that now.
The question was, could they get to a wedding chapel in Vegas before he found out she and her employer had parted ways—or worse yet, ran across her bombshell of a friend Tasha?
CHAPTER THREE
CAMILLE HURRIED CLOSE BEHIND JULIAN as they ascended the stairs up to the aircraft. He paused long enough to grab hold of her hand before entering a private jet that rivaled the size of most commercial airliners.
Her stomach churned with the uncertainty of not knowing if she was doing the right thing. Too late now. Her career was already ruined. And Julian owned at least part of that blame. If only he hadn’t come to America in search of a temporary wife.
Geez, weren’t there any gold diggers in Europe? Did he have to travel halfway around the world to buy himself a temporary wife?
Julian’s redeeming quality, besides his appeal, was that he seemed like a nice enough guy. Yeah, and they say Ted Bundy was charismatic too. Trusting him had gotten a whole lot of women killed.
Good Lord. Camille shook the insecurities out of her head. Julian was no killer. Unless you counted kindness and his to-die-for good looks as a weapon.
He stopped just inside the cabin and turned to face her with a gorgeous smile curling on his lips. “Make yourself comfortable.” He fanned a hand about the cabin. “I must speak with the captain, but I’ll return momentarily.”
Julian disappeared through a door near the plane’s entryway, leaving Camille alone with her paranoid insecurities.
Just breathe. Camille scanned the cabin. She should take a seat but she questioned her choice to be there. Did she deserve a five million dollar reward for perpetrating a fraud?
Probably not. But she didn’t deserve to be forced out on her ear either. She had no prospects of employment here in L.A.—thanks to Julian—and thousands in overdue student loans that he had agreed to pay off as part of their arrangement.
She’d bet the plush couches, even the chairs, were sumptuously comfortable and would lull her into a quick nap. The prospect of an uncertain future in L.A. lured her toward a beige leather chair. Easing down, she felt like she was settling into a cloud. She’d never experienced such luxury or comfort and welcomed it, encouraging it to settle her nerves.
Camille opened her eyes and studied the door where Julian had disappeared. She grabbed her purse and dug out her cell phone. Not that there were too many people who’d be looking for her if she came up missing now that she’d lost her job, but there was Tasha. She’d make a big fuss. Camille didn’t want that. She’d better contact her but not on her cell. She brought up Tasha’s home number and set the call.
After a couple of rings, Tasha’s seductive voice greeted her caller. “Hey, it’s Tash. If you don’t know my cell then leave me a message and I’ll get back to you.” Her flirtatious delivery was overshadowed by her cutting words pointing out that some callers had limited access.
“Hey, Tash, I tried your cell but got nothing.” The lie came easily since it was for the greater good. “Listen, Margo gave me that big promotion I’ve been waiting for. The catch is, I’ve got to go out of town on a story. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone but it’ll probably be an extended assignment.” She stopped talking when Soren entered the cabin and approached her.
“Ms. Chandler, may I get you something to drink during our short flight to Las Vegas?” He paused, resting his hands behind his back. “Mr. de Laurent asked if the Bellagio will be satisfactory until we leave the U.S.?”
“I’ll call you later, okay?” she said into the phone. “Don’t worry. Everything’s cool.” After a bit of brief hesitation she disconnected the call. After a brief interlude of silence she turned to Julian’s valet. “Soren. Is that your first name?” she asked, slipping her phone into her bag.
“Yes ma’am.” He stood waiting for her direction.
“Can I just get some water or something?” Alcohol and her empty stomach weren’t a good match.
“Of course.” He moved to a small bar on the far side of the cabin. “And I take it the Bellagio will do?” Behind the counter, Soren prepared to serve her request.
Not used to having someone wait on her, Camille went to Soren’s side. Politely, she slipped the bottled water and the ice-filled glass from his hands and filled it herself.
“Sure.” She tried to hide her surprise and anticipation of a visit to the ritzy hotel. “The Bellagio is fine with me.”
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?”
&
nbsp; “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 and 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 t
o 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.
Billionaire Games Boxed Set (The Marriage Bargain, The Marriage Caper, The Marriage Fix) Page 4