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.”
“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.”