Julian’s laughter echoed across the room. That was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. “That’s a stretch, Papa.”
“Please tell me you had her sign a confidentiality agreement?” It wasn’t a question so much as an opinion.
Confidentiality agreement? The thought hadn’t crossed Julian’s mind. Surely the attorneys had her sign one as part of the pre-nup.
“I’ll take that as a no.” Papa’s voice faded and he glanced down at his lap. It was only a second or two, but it felt like forever to Julian.
No. He didn’t say no. He didn’t say anything. But, as usual, Papa had a way of reading Julian as if he were an open book. Julian rallied his desire to believe in Camille. “You have nothing to worry about.”
“Nothing to worry about?” Papa snorted. “The girl works for a Los Angeles gossip rag called Disclosure Magazine.” He paused, his face turning red. “I think we have plenty to worry about.”
“There has to be some mistake.” His voice weakened, right along with his confidence. Insistence and denial reeled through Julian’s mind. She’s an actress. Not a reporter.
“There’s no mistake.” Papa’s accusing finger pointed to the envelope that Julian still hadn’t touched.
But he had news for Papa—he refused to look at the information. Julian didn’t believe it. Camille wasn’t here under false pretenses. Whatever the truth was, he wanted to hear it from Camille herself. Not some suspect report given to him by his father.
“Find a way to handle this discreetly.” Papa’s voice cut through the silence.
“I’ll handle it.” Julian rose and paused in front of his father’s desk. “It’s not what you think.”
“Just see to it that she doesn’t do what I think she’s come here to do.” Papa’s voice followed him to the door.
Julian hesitated, pushing aside the thoughts invading his head. The woman he’d poured his heart out to in the garden. The woman who’d rocked his world just last night. The woman who’d promised to be his salvation. She couldn’t be here after a story.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CAMILLE STEPPED OUT of the marble-laid shower with its gold-plated fixtures and grabbed a hand-woven towel, the softest she’d ever seen.
She draped an equally plush bathrobe around her and tied the belt before tousling her wet hair. One last quick glance into the mirror, and she pushed herself toward the gigantic suite she and Julian had moved into after returning from the honeymoon cruise last night. The suite was like its own little apartment inside this huge old house. Camille saw no reason to leave the sanctity of its walls. Anything not to run into Madeleine or Maurice.
The glittering diamond necklace Julian had given her caught her eye. Before getting into the shower, she’d placed it on the table by the window overlooking the rose garden. She touched the pendant, aroused by its romantic inference.
Flashes of their naked bodies tangled together flittered through her mind. The thoughts made her smile. Camille had no disillusions where Julian was concerned. She knew this was temporary—well it had started out that way—but she had six months to change his mind—and hers. Julian was starting to grow on her, and she dared to entertain the notion that he could be her Prince Charming.
Camille dropped into the nearby chair and glanced out the window. The roses looked like someone had come along and splattered a green canvas with every color imaginable. The suite’s décor with its yellows, golds, and reds had a pleasing and calming effect. She could get used to living in Julian’s world—and in his arms.
A glass of champagne waited on the table beside her necklace. Someone, probably Monique, had placed it there while Camille was in the shower.
Man, these people are really into drinking. Bubbles floated up the amber liquid in relegated lines. Just a sip. Besides, she needed the extra edge to get her through the ups and downs of what was to come. She’d have to be careful not to become too dependent upon the crutch.
Granny Mae had said, more than once, that Camille’s father was an alcoholic and it was a blessing in disguise when he’d run out on Camille and her mother. Camille didn’t want to end up like that. Deserted and pregnant.
But if it did happen, she’d like to think she’d have enough wherewithal to stick by the child she’d created and not dump him or her off on the nearest relative. Not that Camille had that luxury.
The door opened and Julian entered. She glanced at him and sat up. He didn’t look happy. Uh oh, what was this about. She hoped it had nothing to do with Madeleine.
He began pacing the length of the room. His head jerked away from her and then back to her every couple of steps.
Nerves pushed Camille out of the chair. “Julian?” She moved toward him. “What’s wrong?”
His hands shot into the air, as if warning her not to touch him. He gave her a frown fraught with desperation. “Is it true?”
“Is what true?” Thoughts swarmed her brain and mingled chaotically to uncover his meaning. What had he discovered? Did he see right through her? Did he know of her secret desires now that they’d consummated their marriage? Did he not want to go there?
Julian elbowed his blazer back and perched his hands on his hips. “Are you or are you not an actress?” Every word came out of his mouth articulate and accusing.
That was not what she was expecting, and in fact, was the worst thing he could’ve asked. But did it really matter? Did he really care that much about her employment status?
She wanted to say what he wanted to hear, but she wasn’t sure what that was. She hesitated and sighed.
“That’s what I thought.” He paused and glared at her.
He looked at her with such hatred it killed any confidence she’d built up during the course of the morning. Her pride and a fear of rejection wouldn’t let her crumble. This was going to turn out just like every other time in her life when she’d been deserted. Julian had found a reason to erect an impenetrable wall between them. Okay, so she hadn’t been completely honest but her intentions hadn’t been malicious.
It wouldn’t matter what she said. Julian had found his out, and she had to protect her heart from getting stomped on, once again.
“Just what exactly is your occupation?” His hatred lashed out at her.
Camille shoved the desire to sob back down her throat. “I am currently unemployed.” That wasn’t a lie. She had no job prospects, but she wasn’t about to tell him why. No way was she going to make herself look like an even bigger fool.