“You’d better worry about your own skeletons, boy.” Papa looked ready to explode. “There is such a thing as bad publicity. And we don’t want ours to start in some American trash magazine.”
“I’ve taken care of that,” Julian said, his tone calming. “From here on out you will say nothing, and I do mean nothing, about this to anyone.”
“You presume to tell me what to do?”
“Papa...you wanted me to fix it. I did.” Julian sucked in a deep breath. “Now, I’m asking you to drop it.”
Papa studied him for a long moment, his way of bullying. It wasn’t working. Julian was way beyond intimidation. Allowing the coercion would ruin his plan. He walked away.
“Where are you going?” Papa called after him. “Madeleine—”
Julian flung around and pitched his finger in the air at his father. “She’d better be gone.”
“Julian...” Papa chastised him with laughter. “You can’t really expect me to turn out an old family friend?”
“Fine.” Julian paused, preparing to call his bluff. “Camille and I will leave.”
“All right.” Papa waved his hands in the air. “All right. I’ll see what I can do.”
Julian continued on, walking away. “When you figure it out—” He glanced over his shoulder. “—You can reach me at the Beauvau.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CAMILLE SAT ON one side of the limousine, next to one door and Julian against the other. He’d made it clear, he wanted nothing more to do with her. She was there for a purpose, to help him avoid a ‘real’ marriage to Madeleine. And at the end of six months, he’d gladly release her.
Well, if he could walk away without so much as a second thought, she could reciprocate—even if she had to force herself.
She turned toward him but avoided looking into his eyes. “Is it too much to ask—where we’re going?” Her tone carried no pleasantries. Camille rotated her gaze back toward the window and glued it on the quick-passing scenery.
“The Beauvau,” he said in a flat monotone voice.
“The Beauvau?” She repeated his words and let her gaze take the slow journey to look at him. “Why are we going there?” she asked, overcome by guilt. “It’s not because of me, is it?”
“You give yourself too much credit, Chéri.” He sneered. “This is a war between my father and me. It has nothing to do with you.” He looked disgusted by the sight of her and directed his attention back out the window.
Julian rested his hand on his thigh. Long bronzed fingers that had caressed her so lovingly yesterday tapped out today’s irritation. There would be no gentle touches, no sweet caresses, no words of love.
If that’s the way he wanted to play it, she’d be more than accommodating. Camille crowded herself against the door.
This was probably just his staged way out. Julian de Laurent had turned every aspect of his life into a life and death drama. He’d gone to great lengths to avoid a ‘real’ marriage. Whatever happened to...“Sorry, Pops, but I just don’t want to marry her”?
Instead, he’d gone to America and hired her, a stranger, to pretend to be his wife for six months until his father got over his fascination. What kind of people did that?
Rich ones, that’s who. People with way too much money at their disposal. People who are used to getting what they want. People who give no forethought to those they step on in the process.
The next six months was going to be hell.
“What pisses you off more?” she asked, without looking at him. “My seemingly ulterior motive? Or, that your father had to do your homework for you?”
She suspected she’d jabbed him good with that one and mustered the courage to look at him. For a split-second, she almost saw the hint of humorous appreciation trying to light his eyes. Soon it was overshadowed by his swelling anger, or maybe it was hurt. He chose not to speak, just stared at her with a dark, infuriated glare. It unnerved her, and she had a pretty good idea that was his plan.
Camille would love to not give him the satisfaction of letting him get to her, if she could just figure out how. But he had. When had that happened?
Julian blasted her with a quick dousing of French—which she didn’t understand. But if she had to guess, she’d say it wasn’t good.
She stared him down with what she hoped said your-lecture-is-falling-on-deaf-ears-with-me.
“Of course you don’t understand French.” He gave her one of those dismissive looks he’d kept in reserve for his servants until now.
“No. I skipped that class in high school.”
“As if your high school French would’ve been adequate.” Julian’s obnoxious laughter bruised her ego.
Spiteful jerk.
“Look, I just want to know why we’re going to a hotel.”
“And I told you.”
Lord, he was making this hard. Harder than it had to be. “Okay...if we don’t want to stay at the house, for whatever reason.” She paused, trying to reason the frivolous expenditure in her head. “Why are we going to a hotel? Why aren’t we going back to the Naoma Louise?”
Julian shrugged. Obviously, he hadn’t considered that option.
“I know it’s none of my business. It’s your money and all.” Anxiety escaped in her nervous laughter. “But I just don’t understand why you’re spending money on a hotel when you’ve got a perfectly good yacht?” she said, even though she felt like she’d overstepped her boundaries.
Julian, on the other hand, looked like a light bulb had gone off inside his head. He turned to her, and seemed to be fighting a smile. “That’s a really good idea.” The anger and annoyance had deserted his voice, leaving behind nothing but indifference.
He nodded as if making the final decision and hit the intercom. “Sebastian, let’s go to the marina instead,” he said, and released the button.
The remainder of the drive passed in silence and the ever-growing presence of tension.
Was five million bucks worth all this? Was it worth six months of ridicule and hostilities from a man she could’ve easily fallen for? Was she seriously thinking she could survive that?
Not even close. No way.
Sebastian opened the limousine’s door and a blast of warm, salty sea air hit Julian. He would’ve enjoyed it, if not for the circumstances. His main objective was to get onboard the Naoma Louise and go below deck where he planned on hibernating until he’d recovered from this malady. Or maybe he’d drop Camille off at the Naoma Louise and then head on over to the Beauvau.