“There’s a two bedroom available downstairs.”
“Ooh, downstairs.” The possibilities swarmed Camille’s mind as she entered the bathroom.
She checked her reflection in the mirror, ignoring her disheveled hair and the dark shadows surrounding her reddened eyes. She’d made a mess of things. Who knew she’d end up actually wanting Julian’s approval?
Camille squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. She’d have to make the best of the bad situation, and accept that her life was going to be lonely without Julian.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
JULIAN LAID THE FOLDER on his desk and pushed it inches away from him. The report on Camille had been enlightening, and disheartening. He drew a breath, taking in all her woes and troubles as if he could relieve her burden.
A soft knock at the door caught him off-guard. Who? It wasn’t Andre...too light. Same for Papa. And his secretary had that two-tap rap going on, so it wasn’t her. Who had showed up at his office unannounced? He had no appointments this afternoon.
“It’s open,” Julian called out, intrigue heightening his curiosity.
The door opened and surprise shook Julian as Claudette sauntered across the room.
“Claudette?” He stood and moved around the desk.
“Julian.” She hugged him lightly and kissed his cheeks, one after the other. “I hope I’m not intruding.” She scrutinized him. “I should have called, but it’s a spur of the moment visit. Sorry.”
Julian shushed her. “You know you’re always welcome here.” He led her to a chair and leaned against the front edge of his desk as she sat. “What can I do for you?”
She laughed. “So much like your father. Right down to business.”
Julian crossed his arms in front of him. He didn’t like being compared to Papa.
“Relax,” she said, reaching for him. “I just came by for a friendly chat.”
A friendly chat? Since when did he and his stepmother have friendly chats?
“All right,” he said, knowing she was up to something and it behooved him to find out what. “Anything in particular that you’d like to chat about?”
“Have you made up your mind?”
“About what?”
“Your wife.”
“My wife?” He was unable to contain the skeptical laughter erupting from his gut.
“She is still your wife, isn’t she?”
“She left me.”
“And...”
“And what?”
“Is she or is she not still your wife?”
Julian paused. It wasn’t right to lie to Claudette. She’d stepped in when his mother checked out and had been a suitable replacement to both him and Andre. “Technically.”
“Technically?” Claudette scoffed. “Either she is or she isn’t. Did you or did you not sign the divorce documents?”
Julian had lost this battle and he didn’t like it. “No,” he said in a defeated manner. “I did not.”
“Any particular reason why?”
Yes, there was a reason. Papa was still hanging around like a vulture, shoving Madeleine at Julian every chance he got. But the way Julian saw it, he couldn’t get married if he already had a wife.
“Was it just a means to divert your father regarding Madeleine? Or is it something else?”
“What else could it be?” He laughed skeptically, to hide his anxiety that someone saw through his pretense.
“Maybe the bride herself?” Claudette asked. “Maybe you’re not quite ready to let go of her?”
No. Julian wasn’t going to admit that. Not out loud.
“The look on your face tells me everything I need to know.”
She gave him one of those you-poor-pitiful-soul glances.
“That bad?”
“That obvious.” Claudette hesitated and leaned toward Julian. “Did she sell her story?”
Julian snapped his head toward her. She knew? But how...? Papa would’ve never divulged such a potentially damaging thing to Claudette. Things that affected the family in an adverse way were never released outside the boardroom or Papa’s study.
Julian examined Claudette with scrutinizing eyes.
“Well?” she asked, shrugging.
“No.”
“Why? Did you buy it?”
He hesitated. “I tried, but she backed out of the deal.”
“Backed out, huh.” Claudette’s stoic face gave nothing away about what she was thinking. “She tell you that herself?”
“No, but she turned down the payment at the last minute.”
“Maybe she thought it was wrong to get paid for something she never intended to write in the first place.”
Claudette stood and strolled toward the door. She stopped short a few steps and looked over her shoulder. “You know, de Laurent Enterprises isn’t going to fade away if you leave for a while.”
That’s what Julian was afraid of, people finding out they didn’t need him—for anything.
Perhaps Claudette was right, though. Perhaps he’d misjudged Camille. Perhaps she’d never intended to write a story about him and the family in the first place.
That was a notion worth investigating.
Camille wasn’t particularly pleased about being called in to work on her day off for some private party renting out the diner. Why couldn’t one of the waitresses scheduled to work take the shift? Why’d it have to be her? And what kind of idiot rents out a run-down diner?
Camille wished they’d hurry up and get here because the sooner they did, the sooner she could call it a night.
She pushed the kitchen door open and went inside. There must have been something she’d forgotten, just as she did every day. Truth be told, Camille wasn’t the best waitress around, which explained her employment here.
“Okay, so how many people are going to be in this party?” she said to her boss, doing a poor job of hiding her unhappiness and the fact that she was tired and just wanted to rest. But there wasn’t any rest for people like Camille. The working class.
“Just two,” George said, leaning against the grill, which wasn’t turned on. There was nothing prepped.
Just two? So why was Ashley here too? Did George really think Camille couldn’t handle serving two people? What’s going on? No wonder this place sucked. George wasn’t any better at running this joint than she was at waiting on the customers.
Ashley burst into the kitchen. “They’re here.” There was something in her voice, her tone and her demeanor that alarmed Camille. Ashley was too happy, too excited.