Claudette didn’t say anything. She just listened.
“There was something about Julian from the get-go. He makes you want to help him.”
“He has that effect on most people.”
“I told my boss I wouldn’t write the story. She threatened to fire me. So I quit.” Camille had no regrets about standing up to her ex-boss at Disclosure Magazine, but right now her ethics weren’t making her feel any better.
“For a young girl, alone in the world, and having no job or viable job prospects...the world is a scary place.” Claudette’s expression softened. She did understand.
Camille sighed, relieved.
“I’m sure you were very afraid. And, the tiniest part of you probably wanted to help Julian.”
“That’s true. But it was more about me.” She admitted with a regrettable shrug. “I was afraid for myself. I was afraid of ending up homeless.”
“So you went to Julian and accepted his offer.”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t tell him about your boss or that you’d quit your job because of him.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“And somewhere along the way, you fell in love with Julian.”
“Well, I wouldn’t say that.” If she said it, that’d make it real. And it couldn’t be real because she’d end up heartbroken.
“So what happened?” she asked, studying Camille. “Did Julian find out about your job?”
Camille nodded. “Maurice made it a point to dig up the dirt on me.” She laughed at the irony.
“Of course!” She threw her hands into the air. “This has my husband written all over it. Jackass that he is.”
“Julian is so angry with me,” Camille said. “He thinks I’m here to get that story.”
“And he’s not going to believe otherwise. Unless you come up with a way to prove it to him.”
Camille hadn’t thought of that.
“That is the way of the de Laurent men,” her spirited voice pealed on, “Loveable as they are...they’re idiots when it comes to matters of the heart.”
“I’m going to divorce Julian.”
“It is the only thing to do,” she said. “Especially if you want him back.”
Camille came out of her despondence and looked at Claudette. “What makes you think he’d have me back?”
“Because he loves you.”
Camille had given up on that when Julian lost the spark in his eyes. “Well, I don’t think that’s going to happen. I just want this to be over.” The words shuddered through her. “I can’t stand the way he looks at me now.”
“He’s going to have to lose you before he can appreciate you.” Claudette leaned toward Camille. “But don’t be foolish. Don’t give him any ammunition to validate what he thinks is the truth. Take every piece of his so-called proof and ram it back at him before you leave.”
Camille tried to think of how she could make that happen.
“Don’t tell him you’re leaving either. He’ll talk you out of it,” she said. “And you’ll both lose if that happens.”
“You’re probably right.” Camille wasn’t willing to spend the next six months learning to hate Julian. She’d rather lose now, than have hatred attached later on down the line.
“I happen to know that Andre is planning a trip to the U.S.” Her tone was born in suggestive innocence. “To see your friend.”
Camille laughed inside. That would snap Maurice’s sanity.
“Do you know someone who can draw up divorce papers quickly?” Camille asked, walking a tightrope of hope.
A thought, an idea came to her. It was risky. She’d lost all hope for any kind of solid relationship with Julian, but if she had any hope of proving herself to him, she had to take that chance.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
JULIAN’S LIMOUSINE ROLLED to a stop in front of the house. The weather hadn’t bothered to cooperate for his return from a business trip to London. Rain continued in a torrential downpour and he jumped out of the car without a second thought and faced the brunt of the storm head-on.
While away, he’d had plenty of time to think things through. Perhaps he’d been a bit hard on Camille. Sure, she’d come to him under false pretenses, but when had that ever stopped him? Where was his sense of adventure? Who said he couldn’t change her mind, charm her out of her intentions? She’d come there for a story, but who’s to say it couldn’t turn into something more? Something meaningful. Something real.
He slinked out of his overcoat and shook the water off his hands and arms. Papa would want to see him, but Julian was more interested in talking to Camille and figuring out if there was a chance for them to salvage their amiable relationship or if he was just fooling himself.
There were only two places she would be. The gardens or their suite. And the rain cancelled out the first option. Julian headed up the stairs taking them two at a time.
“Chéri...?” he called out, entering their suite.
Nothing.
He moved from one room to the next, expecting to find her in each.
Again, nothing.
“Camille?” Anxiety knotted in his gut as he opened the door to the bedchamber, the only room left to examine inside the suite.
The bed was made, the room was empty and the bathroom door was open. Julian stopped, perched his hands on his hips and surveyed his surroundings. Where in the hell was Camille?
Maybe she was in town with Claudette and Lecie. They’d probably gone shopping and were likely to return in time for dinner. Along with a big hefty bill.
Julian laughed. He was beyond caring. He just wanted to see Camille.
He went back into the outer rooms of the suite and prepared to meet with Papa. He would’ve made it out the door too, if it hadn’t been for the document lying on the table along with Camille’s wedding rings and her necklace.
Curiosity pushed him to check it out. His heart rate increased as he reached for the folded document.
A Bill of Divorcement.
Her signature had been penned in black ink. All he had to do was sign it and he’d be a free man—free to get pushed in the direction of Madeleine.
The hell with that.
She couldn’t do this to him. She couldn’t throw him to the wolves. She couldn’t pretend they’d never happened.
Where was she?
He tossed the document back onto the table and the bank receipt fell out. Julian snatched it up and looked at the paper.