Billionaire Games Boxed Set (The Marriage Bargain, The Marriage Caper, The Marriage Fix)

by Edwards, Sandra

  “Cecily,” Conrad complained, shaking his head. “It was one thing when we thought we were going to expose a fraudulent marriage. But it’s obvious that isn’t the case. The girl is pregnant.”

  “Yes. But is the child Andre’s?” Cecily turned away from the window and perched her hands on her hips.

  “He married her, it must be.”

  Sometimes, Cecily wondered if Conrad was adopted. This was one of those times. “She wouldn’t be the first opportunist persuaded by the promise of a hefty payoff.”

  “Then how do you propose we proceed?” Conrad said in a defeated voice. At least he gave up as quick as he gave in.

  “Well…” She went silent while various scenarios flittered through her mind. Finally one stuck, and she smiled. “I suppose people like the de Laurents will be looking to hire a nanny. God knows, they don’t take care of their kids themselves.”

  “A nanny.” He paused while it sank in. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  Of course, he hadn’t. “I’m sure they’ll want to hire one soon,” she said. “So they can get to know her before the baby arrives.”

  As a nurse, Cecily had the credentials. And the sooner she could position herself between Andre and his new wife—the better.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  THE HOUSE IN ST. TROPEZ, set high on a cliff overlooking the Mediterranean, reminded Tasha of the house Lecie was to inherit in California—only this one was larger.

  The master suite had tall windows that looked like garage doors, but with glass panels, framing the walls at the southeastern corner. The windows opened to a wrap around balcony that Tasha thought would be like sleeping outdoors. And since the bedroom was on the second floor, there wasn’t much worry of anyone wandering in. Considering the estate’s significant security and nine-foot barricading walls, intrusion could hardly be an issue.

  Tasha had taken Camille’s call out on the terrace that was shaded by the master suite’s balcony above. A gentle breeze blew past as she listened to Camille relay the conversation she’d had with Beverly.

  “I’m sure it’s nothing,” Camille said. “But Dr. Goldman thought it might be a good idea if you see Dr. Ainsworth there in St. Tropez.”

  Tasha placed her hand on her belly and tried to swallow the lump clogging her throat. “I’ll be sure to do that.”

  “Dr. Goldman telephoned the office up there. As soon as you call, the doctor will see you.”

  Tasha tried to laugh. “I guess it pays to have friends in high places.”

  “You’re the one in the high place, Tash. You’ve got de Laurent money backing you now. Remember that.”

  “That’ll take some getting used to.”

  “I hear you. But I’m sure Andre will make the transition as easy on you as Julian did for me.”

  “Yeah.” Tasha sighed. “Andre has a way of making me feel like anything’s possible.”

  “It’s the de Laurent charm.” Camille giggled. “All three of those men are dripping in it, even Maurice, once you get to know him.”

  Tasha was happy to hear that Maurice had warmed up to Camille. He’d been rough on her when Julian first brought Camille to France.

  Funny thing though, Maurice had been cordial to Tasha from the moment he’d met her. Maybe because he hadn’t seen Tasha as the threat he’d envisioned Camille. Luckily, Maurice had mellowed in the year since Camille and Julian had renewed their vows.

  Tasha stayed out on the terrace long after she’d ended the call with Camille. Just sitting there thinking. Hoping. Praying the stomach virus hadn’t affected the baby.

  Andre came out on to the terrace, but Tasha hadn’t noticed until he spoke. “You finish your call with Camille?” His voice drew her gaze upward to where he was standing beside her. “What’d she have to say? You two comparing pregnancy notes?” Andre asked with a chuckle.

  “Sort of…” Tasha looked away, consumed with the fear of having to tell Andre about the virus.

  Andre sat down on the coffee table in front of Tasha and reached for her hands. “What is it, mon trésor?”

  “We have to call a Dr. Ainsworth and see him right away. The sooner the better. Dr. Goldman has already told him we’d be calling.”

  Andre’s face twisted into a look of awkward curiosity. “Why do we need to see this doctor right away?” His voice had weakened and his grip on her hands tightened.

  “Um…” Tasha hesitated, searching for the right words. “Remember how I told you I’d been suffering from some pretty nasty morning sickness when you showed up in California?” Once Andre nodded, Tasha continued on, “Well, as it turns out…it might not’ve been morning sickness. A co-worker talked to Camille. She called to inquire after my health after nearly everybody at the restaurant came down with a nasty stomach virus right around the time you showed up and swept me away.”

  “I take it that if you had this virus instead of morning sickness, it may well have endangered the baby?”

  All Tasha could do was nod. If she spoke right away, she might cry. After taking a little time to compose herself, she said, “I’m afraid, Andre.”

  He pulled her to him. “Don’t worry. We’ll call the doctor here in St. Tropez. Whatever happens, we’ll get through it together.”

  It seemed ages ago that Andre and Tasha had been tucked away in an exam room in Dr. Ainsworth’s office. The doctor had performed all the routine exams, including an ultrasound. Then he excused himself, saying he’d be right back.

  Tasha fingered the patient’s gown the nurse had given her when she and Andre had first arrived. Andre slipped his hands around Tasha’s.

  “The doctor’s not saying much.” Tasha was trying to feign courage, but Andre knew she was frightened. Truth be told, so was he. “What if…?”

  “There’s no need muddle things up with what ifs. What is it you say…we’ll worry about that bridge when and if we come to it.”

  “That’s easier said than done.” Tasha tried, unsuccessfully, to laugh.

  Andre brought her hands to his lips and brushed them with kisses. “I hate to see you so blue, mon trésor.”

  That rated a genuine smile from Tasha. “You know, I never knew I wanted a child until I found myself knocked up with one.” She let out a half-laugh and made eye contact with Andre. “But now that I am, I want this baby more than anything.”

  “Let’s wait and see what the doctor says before we start worrying.”

  Tasha nodded.

  The door opened and Dr. Ainsworth walked in. His stoic expression gave little away about the status of Tasha’s condition.

  Dr. Ainsworth clasped his hands together and dangled them in front of him. He sucked in a breath and held it briefly before blowing it out with force. “Tasha. Andre.” He looked at each of them as he said their names. “I’m afraid this pregnancy isn’t a viable one.”

  “What…?” Tasha’s emotion-choked voice grated out the word.

  This pregnancy isn’t a viable one. The words shuddered through Andre. Their baby was gone? “What does that mean?” Andre wanted very much for the doctor to say they’d misheard him.

  “There is no heartbeat,” the doctor said in a remorseful tone.

  No heartbeat? Well that settled it, then. Our baby is dead. Andre’s heart splintered into pieces.

  Tasha struggled for breath. “It was the flu, wasn’t it? I caught the flu last week and it killed the baby.” Her blue eyes brimmed with tears that mingled sorrow and guilt. She blinked, and a single tear spilled from one eye.

  Tasha’s suffering wrapped around Andre and squeezed. The pain in his chest made it all too real. This was his fault. If he’d married her and brought her back to France months ago, she would’ve never caught that damned virus.

  Dr. Ainsworth shook his head. “No, Tasha. The flu didn’t cause the miscarriage. I’m afraid the baby stopped developing weeks ago. I’m surprised your body hasn’t already begun the expulsion process.”

  “Is that normal?” Andre asked, beginning to fear for Tash
a’s health.

  “It’s not common.” Dr. Ainsworth shrugged. “But it’s not unheard of.”

  “What’s next?” Andre asked.

  “Tasha needs to be admitted to hospital for a D&C.”

  “He’s wrong. He has to be wrong.” Agitation raked over Tasha voice. She looked at Andre with pained eyes. “Our baby can’t be dead.”

  When Andre didn’t confirm her pleas, she lowered her head and rested her chin upon her chest.

  Tasha began to whimper.

  Andre leaned over her, wrapping his arms around her. Intense sobs wrenched Tasha’s body. She fought him, bashing her fists about his chest and shoulders. Andre tightened his embrace.

  His wife had just lost the only thing she’d ever wanted. If it helped her to hit him, then so be it. But sooner or later, Andre had to find a way to help Tasha get past the pain of losing their first child. He knew she’d never get over it, but for her sake she had to get past it. And there was only one way that he could think of that might help. With his arms still around Tasha, Andre looked to the doctor, “Can we have more children?”

  “We’ll know more after the procedure.” Dr. Ainsworth’s words shot through Andre like sharp shards of ice.

  If Tasha could never have a child, how would she get past that? How would Andre?

  After the procedure, the doctors had told Tasha she could have more children.

  But Tasha wanted this baby.

  She felt more than empty. There was a hole in her heart that no amount of cordial words from well-meaning family and friends could cure.

  Thank God, Andre had taken her back to the house in St. Tropez for several weeks before they made the trip back home to Marseilles.

  Tasha had needed the time to pull herself together, to prepare herself for when she came face to face with Camille and her by now, bulging belly.

  While, to be honest, Tasha was a bit jealous that Camille’s pregnancy was a viable one, but she was also happy for her friend’s good fortune. If anybody deserved some happiness, it was Camille.

  Andre had been a wonderfully supportive husband during the hospital stay and the following weeks, staying attentively by Tasha’s side at all times. They’d cried together, more than once, but mostly, they simply held on to each other in silence.

  On the eve before their scheduled return to Marseilles, as they were lounging on the same terrace where Tasha had received Camille’s phone call—the same phone call that had changed their lives forever—Tasha lifted her head and looked up at Andre.

  “What is it, mon trésor?” He smiled. “Is there something I can get for you?”

  “You’re too good to me.” Tasha rested her head back on his chest.

  “Well, you are my wife.”

  She looked up at him again. “You sure you’re not regretting that move, considering the outcome with the baby and all?”

  Andre shook his head. “I have but one regret.”

  Tasha’s chest felt heavy. “What’s that?” she asked, even though she wasn’t sure she wanted an answer.

  “That I didn’t marry you months ago.” Andre winked.

  Tasha wanted to let out a breath of relief, but experience had taught her to be cautious. “You mean it?”

  Andre nodded, saying, “I mean it.” He paused for a moment, studying her face intently. “And you? You’re not thinking of returning to California, are you?”

  That almost brought a laugh. Almost. “No, California is the last place I want to be…unless you’re there.”

  “Listen, you and I, we’re going to have a wonderful life together. I’ll make sure of that. We may or may not have children, but Lord knows we’re going to try.” His laughter became infectious, soliciting a chuckle from Tasha. “But I promise you, I’ll make sure you never regret marrying me.”

  “I can well believe that,” Tasha said. “And I can promise that I’ll always try to be the wife you deserve.”

  “After we return to Marseilles, would you like to go on that cruise I promised you?” Andre asked. “Or do you prefer to rest and regroup at home?”

  “You know what I’d really like to do?” Tasha’s tone turned serious. “Do you think we could put some kind of memorial in one of the gardens for our little angel? I realize we don’t know if it was a boy or a girl…” Her words trailed off with her need to cry. She didn’t want to cry any more. But she didn’t want to forget her baby, either. She’d been thinking about a memorial stone or something along those lines for a while now.

  “I think that’s a fine idea.” Andre snuggled Tasha closer. “It will be my top priority once we return home.”

  Inside the limo rolling up the winding roadway toward Pacifique de Lumière, butterflies began to stir in Tasha’s stomach. She was thankful that she had something to look forward to—memorializing her baby—but she wasn’t sure how she was going react when she saw Camille, who was still pregnant.

  Tasha’s best friend turned sister-in-law had to have a noticeable baby bump by now. The calendar had recently turned to November. Thanksgiving was right around the corner. However, the French didn’t celebrate the American holiday. That was okay with Tasha. She had nothing to celebrate.

  Knowing full well how far along Camille was, Tasha quietly counted the months on her fingertips anyway. Four months. Camille was in her fourth month. By now, she must have a baby bump.

  As the car approached the house, Tasha held her breath and touched her own now-empty belly. Please, she prayed, let me be happy for Camille.

  Everyone was there, waiting in the covered archway. Claudette, Maurice and Lecie formed the front line. Julian and Camille were standing behind the others, making it hard to see Camille’s tummy.

  The car rolled to a stop and one of the servants stepped up to open the door. Tasha blew out the breath she’d been holding.

  Andre scrambled from the car, then offered his hand to Tasha. She let him pull her from the vehicle, and once outside, she passed around a gentle smile to the family’s front line.

  Claudette was the first to approach her. “We’re so sorry, dear,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around Tasha.

  Maurice gave her a sad smile and then kissed her cheek. A heartfelt display for a man such as Maurice.

  Lecie had tears in her eyes. She latched on to Tasha, saying nothing. Just crying. A sure-fire way to let loose Tasha’s own tears. She’d been crying for so long now that it was a wonder she had any tears left.

  Julian pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and pulled Tasha away from Lecie’s grasp. “My, dear…” he said, blotting her tears. “If I could fix this, you know I would. It pangs me to say it, but there are some things that even I can’t control.” Julian gave her a playful nudge. “If it helps…please feel free to hit me.”

  A bit of a chuckle fell from Tasha’s lips and trailed off, smothered by her grief.

  “Take him up on it,” Andre urged. “Never miss an opportunity to slap my brother around.”

  Camille pulled Tasha into her arms. Her very noticeable baby bump pressed against Tasha. Jealousy jumped up into Tasha’s throat, but she managed to banish it with a hard swallow.

  Tasha touched Camille’s tummy, but couldn’t tell if the fluttering was her imagination or the baby actually kicking.

  Do they kick this early? Tasha hadn’t a clue. Suddenly, she couldn’t wait to feel the feisty kick of Camille’s baby as it grew closer to the due date. She hoped Camille would include her in all her upcoming plans where the baby was concerned.

  “Do we know if it’s a boy or a girl?” Tasha lifted her gaze from Camille’s tummy up to her eyes.

  “No.” Camille shook her head. “I asked the doctor not to tell me. I want it to be a surprise.”

  Tasha looked at Julian. “I’ll bet you know what it is, don’t you?”

  A chorus of laughter rippled across the archway. Andre poked a finger at his brother. “My wife has your number.”

  Julian grinned and nodded his head sheepishly. “There’s nothing wrong
with keeping a secret or two from your wife…hey, brother?”

  Before Tasha could object or inquire about Julian’s statement, Camille had latched on to her hand, dragged her up the grand entryway, into and through the house. She didn’t stop until they were outside again in the west gardens.

  “Shouldn’t you slow down a bit?” Tasha glanced around the patio furniture and claimed the nearest chair. “You really should take it easy.”

  “We have so much to catch up on.” Camille sat in the chair kitty-cornered from Tasha. “And I thought you might like a little privacy.”

  “What I’d really like is to know what Julian was talking about back there.” Tasha crossed her legs. “What’d he mean about secrets?”

  Camille gave a dismissive wave. “Oh, you know Julian.” She giggled and shook her head. “He never likes to be put in his place by anyone, especially his younger brother. I wouldn’t worry about it. It’s just Julian being Julian.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  SOMETIMES, CAMILLE COULD JUST wring her husband’s neck. She planned to give him a proper scolding later. These days, she could get away with it. Once she had the baby, she had a feeling it’d be back to business as usual. Julian de Laurent was capable of arguing every waking minute of his day. Camille suspected that he sometimes got his way because people got tired of listening to him.

  But right now she had Tasha to contend with. From here on out, she’d have to choose her words carefully. Not that she’d ever out-and-out lie to Tasha, but nothing good could come from Tasha finding out about the exact details of Edouard Renault’s will. Knowing Tasha, her pride would get in the way and she’d up and leave.

  At that moment, Camille vowed to never let Julian place those kinds of stipulations on her child in order to inherit any part of the de Laurent fortune.

  The door opened behind them. Camille glanced over her shoulder. Monique had poked her head in. “Ms. Camille. Your appointment is waiting in the west salon.”

  “Very good.” Camille nodded. “I’ll be right there.”