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 but 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.
“Well, are we all set now?” he asked.
“Yep,” Tasha said. “We’re all on the same page.” She reached for her glass. “I am invited to the wedding, right?” She asked Julian in particular.
“Of course you’re invited to the wedding.” He draped his arm around Camille’s chair. “I’m sure Camille will want you by her side.”
“Since the wedding isn’t going to be for a couple of weeks, could Tasha join us in France in maybe a week or so?” Camille’s insecurities leaked out as she spoke to Julian.
“Sounds perfect. Whatever you want.” Julian glanced at Tasha. “I can send a jet for you when you’re ready to come.”
“A private jet?” Tasha’s eyes lit with excitement, but she masked it with smooth composure. “Cool.”
Uneasiness knotted inside Camille and escaped in her nervous laughter.
“Say, Julian...?” Tasha asked. “You got any brothers?”
“I have one brother.”
“Older or younger?”
“Younger, by two years.”
“Is he married?”
“No.” Julian smiled.
Camille kicked Tasha’s shin under the table.
“Ouch!” Tasha yelled and glared at Camille. She bent over, rubbing her leg.
Julian hid his chuckle behind a cough.
The waiter Julian had stopped to talk to earlier appeared with a tray of food, including a plate of hamburger and fries for Julian—he’d told Camille that he loved the American delicacy—and a slice of apple pie with a side of vanilla ice cream for Camille.
After serving them, the waiter hesitated over Tasha with a plate of cheesecake. “Mr. de Laurent asked me to choose something from the dessert menu for madam.” He sat the dish in front of her. “I’m sure you’ll find it to your liking. Or, if madam prefers something else...?”
“No, this is fine.” Tasha smiled politely and grabbed her fork, ready to feast on the café’s sweet treat.
As the trio munched, they reserved the conversation to minimal small talk until they’d nearly finished with their desserts.
“Well, Tasha, are you going back to L.A. tonight?” Julian asked, pushing his plate aside. “If you’d like to say in Vegas a couple of days, I can extend our villa upstairs for you.” Julian paused, catching his breath. “I do hate to risk looking like a poor host, but we are due at the airport soon. We’ll be leaving for London this afternoon.”