Camille’s entire body seemed to relax, as if she got it. “And Julian de Laurent wouldn’t be caught dead with a trophy wife.”
She did get it.
“If it’s to be believable, my wife has to be a woman of substance and eloquent beauty.” He waved his hands before him in a grand gesture. “She is the bride. Not the young lady who jumps out of the cake at the bachelor party.”
The makings of a serpent’s stare quickly gave way to a stony gaze before her eyes settled with approval.
“Underneath all that fluff Tasha has her moments.” Camille’s tone, hesitant and weak, suggested she was digging for something good to say. “She’s been a good friend.”
Julian sensed there was a ‘but’ lost in her thoughts and struggling to get out. It was up to him to help her forget about it. “Yes, and just the kind of girl my brother Andre will fall madly in love with.” Julian laughed in a deep, jovial way. “Tell her to go easy on him.”
“You keep your brother in check, and I’ll do the same with my friend.”
Always the diplomat. Julian liked that about Camille. He also liked that she was able to remain composed while under pressure. She’d need it, especially when it came to Papa and Madeleine. Julian would love to shield her from both. But for six months? It didn’t seem possible.
“I doubt they will be half the problem that Papa and Madeleine will turn out to be.” He eased it in there, half-hoping she wouldn’t notice.
She did. Indicative of her head whipping in his direction.
“Who’s Madeleine?” The inquiry clawed its way out, as if crawling over mountainous terrain.
“Madeleine is my father’s choice,” he said with a trivial, dismissive tone.
“That doesn’t sound good.” She stiffened and pulled away.
“But she is not my choice.” He leaned closer to Camille. “All you have to remember, Chéri, is, you are my choice.”
“Oh, I get that,” she said with a touch of irritation. “But, just how far are your father and Madeleine willing to go?” Her eyes narrowed as she peered at him. “Will they be out for revenge?”
Denial shook Julian’s head. “My father...no. But he will have a sharp eye out though, which is why we must appear real.”
“And what about Madeleine?”
“Well, she’s not going to be happy.”
“Will she get violent?”
Madeleine? Violent? The notion was laughable. She wasn’t the physical type, but that wouldn’t stop her from trying to cause trouble. “She’s not going to take this well. But you aren’t in any physical danger, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“So, I’ll just have to be on my toes around Madeleine, because she’s going to be out to sabotage me.” She seemed to be filing informative tips away in her brain.
“Us. Sabotage us.” Julian didn’t want Camille thinking or feeling like she was in this alone.
She had to know and understand they were in this together. Julian couldn’t afford to have her back out on him now. It meant the difference between six months of make-believe with a woman he found simply delightful, or a lifetime of nothing special with Madeleine.
CHAPTER SIX
CAMILLE CHANDLER was afraid of the unknown. That fear fueled her continued support of Julian’s harebrained scheme. She was terrified to start over. She had nothing to start over with. And Margo wasn’t likely to ease up on her threats.
With five million dollars, Camille could go to some nondescript little town Margo had never heard of and get a job at the local paper—or hell, with that much money she could probably even buy the town’s newspaper. That’s it; she’d purchase a house and run the newspaper. Any money she had left over, she’d put the rest away for a rainy day.
That dream sounded better than the alternative: living on the streets and hoping to land a job at the local diner—a job she’d never worked in her life.
The stopover in London had been quick. Too quick, considering Julian’s jilted lover and his father, who wasn’t getting the daughter-in-law he desired, were waiting in France. The layover was also expensive, but probably not from Julian’s point of view. No doubt, he was used to spending thousands on a single suit.
Not Camille. She considered anything upwards of fifty bucks a splurge. After stopping at a few of the finer boutiques, they were back on Julian’s jet and headed for Paris. The afternoon spending spree—dozens of outfits ranging from several hundred dollars to a few thousand—was a little unsettling.
In Paris, they made another quick stop and had a brief meeting with some designer, Marie something-or-other. Camille had never heard of her, which didn’t mean much. Her wedding gown designs were supposed to be all the rage.
Julian promised Marie’s questions, strange and off the wall, would give her insight into Camille’s true personality and in the end, she’d be rewarded with the wedding dress of her dreams. Camille had her doubts, but five million bucks was ample motivation to yield to the designer’s quirks.
After the appointment with Marie, Julian and Camille dined at a sidewalk café before returning to the airport.
Funny, the closer they got to Marseilles, the tighter Camille’s nerves twisted in her gut. She almost wished she didn’t know Julian’s father and the girl he’d slighted would be out to get her. Well, probably not the father, but definitely the girl.
Camille was determined to disregard this new development and not give it a second thought. Julian had pledged to be on her side. He had just as much at stake as Camille, even if their motives were born from entirely different reasons.
She followed sheepishly behind Julian as they descended the stairs out of the aircraft. A light breeze blew a whiff of salt through the air. Camille looked around. Were they near the ocean?
Julian grabbed her hand at the bottom of the steps. “Remember, Chéri,” he whispered in her ear. “From here on out, in public, we must appear in love.”
His fingers remained tangled with hers. “I’ll be so convincing—” She looked at Julian and smiled. “—even you’ll think I’m in love.”
They jumped into a Mercedes limousine waiting in the pickup area. The chauffeur, a tall, gangly fellow in a driver’s suit, sprinted around the car and climbed behind the wheel. This time, Julian and Camille were alone in the limo. Where Soren and the pilot had gone, she didn’t know.