Imagine, someone wanting you to defend yourself when they had no intention of listening to a word you said. Camille wasn’t groveling at anybody’s feet, least of all his. It would come to nothing because it was only for his own amusement.
The envelope he’d left on the table seemed to be his bargaining chip. Well sure, it contained the means to a million dollars. Or so he said. Curiosity pushed her toward the table. She picked up the envelope with casual grace and hesitated a moment before easing the flap open. The agreement didn’t interest her as much as the bank transfer.
Seeing all those zeros next to her name made her heart skip a beat. In a matter of seconds, all her financial problems had disappeared. A million bucks might be chump change to a guy like Julian, but for a girl like Camille it could change her life.
But was the payment of five million worth six months of what she’d just endured? Could she stand six months of ridicule and rejection and dismissal from Julian. She’d have to if she wanted the money.
Wait. She’d decided to stick around because she needed the money. Not anymore. She was now in possession of a million dollars. Payment in full for a story she’d never intended to write. Why should she stick around and subject herself to Julian’s BS when it was no longer necessary?
There was no longer a reason. Not anymore. And she liked the idea of being paid for a story much better than being paid for a marriage—even if it was less money. But hell, a million bucks was plenty for Camille. It would set her up nicely.
Okay, so all she needed to do was find someone to help her start the divorce proceedings. Julian wasn’t the best bet. He’d try to talk her out of it since he had a little problem he liked to call Madeleine.
But Julian had—like Granny Mae used to say—made his bed and now he’d have to lay in it. He’d hurt her feelings and stung her ego and there was no going back from that. Why should she continue to help him? Not even five million dollars was worth sacrificing her dignity.
With that in mind, Camille knew she had to confide in at least one member of the de Laurent family. And there was only one who could come close to relating. Only one that might listen before judging. Only one that might agree to help Camille.
Camille was thrilled when Claudette kept their lunch date that afternoon. It meant Maurice hadn’t gotten to her, hadn’t told Claudette what he knew. She hoped she was right, and her stepmother-in-law still remembered and understood what it was like to try to fit into this family of well-bred jackasses.
They opted for a little sidewalk café where the staff knew Claudette and were overly attentive to her every desire.
Camille had rehearsed what she’d say to Claudette a hundred times in her mind, but that hadn’t helped to calm her nerves. What if she was wrong about Claudette? What if she was just as judgmental as the rest of them? What if...pigs could fly!
She pushed the silly anxieties aside. Nobody could be as judgmental as those de Laurent men. Maurice and Julian in particular.
Strategically, Claudette’s induction into the family was the place to start. Take her back to what it felt like when she first arrived.
“Claudette...” Camille let her name amble off her tongue. “What was it like for you when you married Maurice?” she asked, playing with the food on her plate. “Did fitting in come easy for you?”
“Easy?” Claudette laughed, and rattled off a few words in French before returning to English. “I not only became the mother of two small children, but I had to follow in the footsteps of a woman who’d been put up on a pedestal and then devastated an entire family when she fell off.”
Camille hadn’t looked at it like that. She’d only seen Naoma’s life and death from Julian’s point of view. A broken-hearted son.
“I can’t imagine what that must’ve been like for you.” Sadness stabbed at Camille’s chest. “I know it devastated Julian.”
“Julian.” Claudette’s face softened. Clearly, she loved him like any mother would love her son. “He was such a dear, sweet boy. And so young, and broken-hearted over losing his mother.” Her expression was one of quiet dejection. “It took a very long time to get him to accept my love. He was afraid I was going to leave, too.”
“What about you and Maurice? Did he have trust issues?” Camille regretted it as soon as she asked.
Claudette snorted. “Still does.” She rolled her eyes and a muscle quivered at her jaw. “Sometimes, I think Maurice doesn’t even trust himself.”
“He doesn’t trust me.”
“It’s not that he doesn’t trust you.” Her words weren’t bitter, just logical. “You made it impossible for him to get the daughter-in-law he wants.”
Camille hadn’t looked at it like that. Still, it wasn’t her problem. “He has another son.”
“Ah, yes. And a specific wife picked out for him too.” A flicker of amusement flittered across her eyes. “And he’s not likely to get that one any more than he did the last.”
“Well, he shouldn’t give up hope on Madeleine just yet,” Camille said, with some remorse. “He’s still got a chance. If he can convince Julian.”
Claudette studied her with a scrutinizing eye. “Julian doesn’t love Madeleine.”
“He doesn’t love me either.”
Claudette’s expression skewed into a “thinking face” that evoked her thoughts to the surface. “I think he does.”
“I’m going to tell you something that is going to violate a contract.” Camille paused. It was better to just say it and get it over with. That way the contract would be broken and she could go home. “Our marriage is a business deal. A marriage of convenience.”
Claudette’s mouth fell open. Clearly, a notion she hadn’t suspected.
“Julian came to America looking for a temporary wife, so he could avoid being pressured into marriage with Madeleine.” She searched for the next set of words that would make some sense of her reasoning, and not make her look like a villain. “He placed an ad in the L.A. Trades for an actress.” There was something liberating about admitting the truth. “I, at the instruction of my boss, answered the ad. I was just supposed to see what Julian was up to. That’s it. But my boss at Disclosure Magazine wanted a story, with all the dirt, on Julian de Laurent.” She shook her head. Even she was starting to see herself as the bad guy.