If it weren’t for the reason he’d married her, to avoid a marriage with Madeleine, Julian would just give her the money he’d promised her and send her on her way. But that would put him right back where he started, and the one place he didn’t want to be. Available.
Julian stepped on board and without thinking, stopped and extended his hand to Camille. For the first time in his life, Julian had been civil without an ulterior motive. The consummate gentleman. His mother would be so proud.
He knew he was probably smiling at Camille, and he remedied that right away by plastering on his hardest, practiced stare.
She looked vulnerable. He wanted to believe the best of her, but she made it hard. Falling back into her snare wasn’t wise. Julian dropped her hand, letting it fall away.
He opened the door and again, subconsciously waited for her to enter first. Cool air wafted past as he followed her inside.
“The papers will be delivered later today, sealing our deal.” He moved to the bar, ready to pour himself a drink but changed his mind.
“Whatever.” She dropped to the couch, crossed her legs and played with her fingernails, which she’d changed to a bright red. Very different from the pastel shades of pink and orange he was used to seeing.
Julian searched the bar for water, opening several decanters and sniffing the liquids inside. All were liquor of some sort. Frustration balled inside him and knotted in his gut. What did a man have to do to get some water?
He grabbed the phone on the bar and punched in a number. “Soren. Can we get some water in here?” He didn’t immediately hang up. Instead, he added, “Thank you.”
That probably surprised Soren as much as it did Julian. Maybe he was getting sick. Figures. He’d caught a case of the pleasantries.
He leaned against a barstool, caressed his forehead and massaged his temples.
“Julian...?” She paused, hesitating.
He cut a stealthy gaze toward her. She looked like she’d been defeated. “Yeah?”
“I, ah, if leaving the house had anything at all to do with me.” She stopped and drew a breath before continuing. “I know you say it wasn’t me, but just in case I was any kind of factor.” She dared to look at him. “I-I’m sorry, if I played even a small part in that.”
Amazing. She looked genuinely sorry. How could she regret that and in the same breath, turn around and make a mental note to add it in her story?
It was probably just a ploy to make herself look better in the final copy. She was doing a good job of assuming the role of victim. If she wasn’t an actress, she’d missed her calling.
“I told you,” he said. “It has nothing to do with you.”
“Then why?” she asked. “Why did we leave?”
Maybe he should tell her. Keep her off his back. Otherwise, she’d go on, incorrectly, telling herself that she had somehow played a part in this disaster.
“It’s not about you.” He smiled, feeling like he’d won some small battle. “It’s about Madeleine.”
“Madeleine?”
“Papa wants her to stay. I want her gone.”
Camille nodded. “I can understand that, considering the lengths you went to, to avoid marrying her.” She snickered.
Perhaps that hadn’t been the smartest idea. His selfishness had allowed a member of the press to infiltrate the family, undetected. It’s a good thing Papa still had his wits about him.
Julian stood and headed for the door, stopping only to glimpse over his shoulder at Camille. “Soren will come for you when the papers arrive.”
He slipped into the hallway, needing to put some space between himself and Camille.
Camille was awakened by the knock at the door. She lifted her head off the pillow and looked around groggily.
Oh, yeah. She’d grown tired of sitting in the upper deck lounge all alone, but remembered closing her eyes for just a second. Nothing made the time pass like sleeping your life away. She sighed and fell back on the couch.
The knock came again. More persistent this time. “Mrs. de Laurent?” Soren’s voice floated through the walls.
“Yes.” She sighed and closed her eyes. Maybe he’d go away. Doubtful. He worked for Julian.
“Mr. de Laurent asked me to come for you,” he called through the door. “Your signature is required.”
Camille pushed herself into a sitting position. “I’ll be there directly.”
Damn. She was starting to sound like Julian. Camille drew in a deep breath and sighed. Okay. Time to face the music. She just wished the musician played a more agreeable tune.
Having no other choice was the factor that pushed her off the couch. The plush carpet offered little comfort as she studied her messy hair in the mirror. Not caring about impressions, she ran her fingers through it a few times, straightened her blouse and headed out into the hallway where Soren was waiting.
Okay. So now she needed a chaperone? What? Did Julian think she was going to steal the silver?
Camille followed Soren to the top deck salon. Julian and his attorney—oh, what was his name? —were huddled over the bar enthralled in deep conversation. Julian looked up. She could tell when he’d seen her, his demeanor soured.
“Here she is.” Julian offered no smile. His eyes didn’t light up. In fact, he just looked annoyed.
“Okay,” she said, dropping onto the couch. So he was going to be a jerk. Two could play that game. “Let’s get this over with.” She winced as the words poured from her mouth.
Julian shuffled across the room and sat beside her. Draping his arm around her, he whispered, “Now, darling.” He called her ‘darling’ instead of Chéri. She didn’t like that. “There’s no need to be a bitch.”
“No, that’s your girlfriend’s job.” She flashed him a look that must have been effective because his confidence wilted, if only for a second or two.
“Good one.” He winked at her and pushed himself off the couch. He stood over her, extending his hand. She took it, trying to erect a stronger guard against his charms.
Julian tugged her across the room, settling her at the bar where his attorney had a mass of paperwork laid out. She waited for an introduction. None came.
The lawyer handed her a fountain pen. She took it and looked at Julian. “You signed it already?”
He nodded.
“If you’ll just sign here.” The attorney pointed to a blank line beneath Julian’s signature.
Camille snatched the papers off the counter and began reviewing them. Julian snickered. She ignored him. He was not as cute as he thought.