“I’m getting to you.” Julian caught her gaze and trapped her there.
“Not as much as you want to.”
“Are you ready?”
“For...?”
“To...how do you Americans say...?” He paused, and searched his mind for the correct phrase. “Blow this pop stand?”
Camille giggled. “That’s so 1990s.” She looked at the bridal bouquet on the table. “But I haven’t tossed my bouquet away yet.”
“You’re really going to throw that away?” He didn’t understand the concept. Women were extremely sentimental and giving their bridal bouquet away made absolutely no sense.
“Well, this is not the one I carried down the aisle. It’s a replacement to use specifically for tossing the bouquet.” She reached for the flowers and cut her eyes toward Andre and Tasha.
Julian stole a look across the table. His brother was making a spectacle of himself. Julian managed to contain his amusement and kept the laughter to just a thought. He scooped up a handful of miniature mints in a nearby bowl and tossed them at Andre, tearing him away from Tasha. Julian’s laughter escaped.
Andre glared at Julian and mouthed the word, “What?”
“You’re on, little brother,” Julian said. “Gather all the single girls around.”
A smile spread across Andre’s face. “I can do that.” He stood and scooted Tasha up to the dance floor.
Once Andre had gathered a slew of single girls around Tasha, Julian reached for Camille’s hand and led her to the stage in front of the dance floor. He turned her back to the crowd and winked, saying, “No peeking.”
“You’re incorrigible.”
“Don’t tell anyone,” Julian said, as Andre hopped up onto the stage.
“Ladies, ladies...gather round.” Andre coaxed with waving hands. “It’s that time. Who’s going to be next?”
“Andre, we want to see you front and center when Julian tosses the garter.” An unidentifiable feminine voice came out of the crowd.
In spite of himself, Julian chuckled at Andre trying to charm his way out of this one. Andre landed his hand against his chest and followed it with a defining headshake. Baby brother was not interested in being next.
Andre turned his focus on Camille. “Okay, on the count of three.” He paused and draped his hand over the microphone. “Just toss it over your shoulder. They’ll do the rest.”
Julian moved closer to Camille, targeting her ear. “Ten lira says he’ll use this bouquet-throwing incident to seduce the woman who catches it.”
Camille looked at Andre. “Ten lira. Is that a lot?”
Andre’s laughter had a bite to it. “Okay, ladies...here we go.” He cajoled Camille with a gentle nudge. “One. Two. Three...”
She tossed the bouquet back over her head and it sailed into the cluster of single women. The flowers bounced around as if on a springboard, rebounding off Tasha’s head and sailing behind her into Lecie’s hands...where it stayed.
Oh, Papa wasn’t going to like this. Julian snickered inside. At least she was safe from Andre’s charms.
“Okay, bud...” Camille hit his arm and waggled her hands. “Cough it up. Ten lira. Pay up.”
One of the groomsmen passed a chair up to the stage. Andre directed Camille to sit. She glanced anxiously between Julian and his brother. Julian flashed her an assuring smile and leaned in toward her ear. “No worries, Chéri. I’m just going to tastefully removed your garter and toss it out into a group of uninteresting and undeserving members of the male sex.” He kissed her cheek and she giggled as Julian dropped to the floor on one knee.
“He’s already been there.” Another nameless female yelled out, and all the other women howled.
Julian bowed his head and smiled at the mob, and that induced them to cheer louder. He slid his hands beneath Camille’s dress and ran them slowly up her smooth, bare leg. The gentleman in him stopped when he found the garter.
“Remember,” Andre said to Julian, “This is a G-rated show.”
“I know that,” Julian huffed under his breath. Did Andre think him a cad? He thought he deserved a bit more credit.
Julian slid the garter down Camille’s leg and over her foot. He swung it around his extended forefinger like a hula hoop. When the crowd neared a frenzied state, Julian whipped it into the air like a prize.
The wedding guests cheered with catcalls and profane words in French. Julian slipped his hand around Camille’s. He scanned over the crowd to see who’d caught the garter, but came up with nothing. He wouldn’t care much, except that Lecie had caught the bouquet and these two people were supposed to dance.
He leaned toward Andre. “Who caught that?”
“Stephan Payette.”
“You tell that little shit to keep his hands off Lecie.” Julian ordered, trying to contain his ferocity and hint at it at the same time. He turned to Camille and she softened his mood. “Are you ready?”
She raised her chin with a cool stare in his direction.
“Trust me,” he said.
She looked at him like she’d already done that and look where it had gotten her. Julian winked at her and squeezed her hand.
“Yeah, okay.” Her expression of doubt changed to desire.
Julian winked at her again, his confidence growing. He tore his attention away from Camille and turned to their guests. “As much fun as this party is...” He laughed comically. “My wife and I must bid you adieu.”
Julian hopped off the stage and swept Camille into his arms. He kept her there as he made his way through the crowd and to the limo waiting just outside the tent’s main entrance. Soren was waiting by the car.
Good. He was back. That meant he’d completed his task.
Julian set Camille on her feet and Soren opened the car door. She slid inside, and Julian leaned against the opened door motioning for Soren to come closer. He inched toward Julian.
“Did you take care of it?” Julian asked.
“Yes, sir. It’s in the safe on the boat.” Soren folded his hands behind his back and a smile spread over his face. “She will be pleased, sir.”
“Good.” Julian slapped him on the arm and slipped inside the car.
“Have a good trip, sir,” Soren said, closing the door. While Julian and Camille were honeymooning, Soren was taking his own, much deserved vacation. He’d earned it with his flawless loyalty.
Julian turned to Camille and draped his arm along the back of the seat.