That distribution deal Travis was so concerned about would no doubt disappear and the humiliation would cling to him forever. Oh, God, she wanted the floor to open her up and swallow her whole.
Or better yet, swallow Jean Claude.
If her legs hadn’t felt like overcooked spaghetti, she might have walked over to Jean Claude and slapped him. As it was, all she managed was a wince before she dropped into a wing-backed chair. The wide window beside her overlooked the front of the house. At least she didn’t have to sit here and stare out at the wedding party.
They’d left the reception, where their friends and families were dancing and laughing, to come to Travis’s study. Despite the room’s size, its dark green walls, thick, colorful rugs and countless bookshelves gave the study a warm, almost comforting feel.
But it would take way more than the room’s ambiance to comfort Julie at the moment. Her heart was galloping in her chest and her stomach kept twisting, as if a giant, unseen fist was squeezing it mercilessly. She shot a look at Travis and nearly groaned at the expression of pure fury on his face.
The three of them were caught together like survivors of a shipwreck. And two of the survivors looked as though they were each willing to throw the other out of the lifeboat.
Could this get any worse?
Oh, she really shouldn’t have thought that question.
“I believe I saw some reporters stationed outside this…winery,” Jean Claude mused aloud. “Perhaps I should go and have a quiet word with one or two of them.”
Reporters.
Julie’s head ached anew and the tumult in her stomach stepped up a notch.
“You won’t be talking to any reporters,” Travis muttered tightly.
“This is, as you Americans are so fond of saying, a free country, is it not?”
“Not where you’re concerned,” Travis told him, then added, “You start talking to reporters and my lawyers will be on you so fast, they’ll take everything from you but that ridiculous accent.”
Jean Claude’s eyes narrowed, but as Julie watched him, all she could think was that he was so far out-classed in the whole really furious competition. Anger radiated off of Travis in heavy waves that seemed to swim through the room, making the air almost too thick to breathe.
“You are in no position to dictate terms to me,” Jean Claude warned.
“Mister,” Travis answered. “This is my house. I do what I damn well want and right now, I want to hear everything you’ve got to say. So start talking.”
For a moment, it looked as though the smaller man might argue, but then, he conceded and gave an indolent shrug, as if none of this was consequential at all.
“It is quite simple really,” Jean Claude said in what Julie realized was a reedy, almost whiny voice. “The delightful Julie and I were never really divorced. So you have married a married woman, my good man.”
Julie’s heart stuttered a little, but she swallowed hard and pulled in a deep breath. She couldn’t really believe this was happening, but it was hard to avoid the truth.
From a distance, the muted sounds of her wedding reception were nothing more than a soft, white noise. She glanced down at the gold, diamond-studded band on her left ring finger. Sunlight caught the channel-set stones and winked with a dazzling shine and glitter. Travis had only put it on her an hour ago. Why the devil hadn’t Jean Claude stopped the wedding before it was too late? Groaning quietly, she buried her left hand in the folds of her wedding gown so that she wouldn’t have to look at the ring again.
“I’m not your good man,” Travis was saying and his voice was low, deep and threatening enough that if Jean Claude had had a brain in his head, he would have been backing up. Instead, he only picked up the glass of wine he’d poured for himself and sniffed in distaste.
“I am the injured party, mon ami,” he said, taking a mouthful of the cabernet and swallowing as if he’d had to force it down. The insult to King wines was unmistakable. “Surely you can see that?”
“What I see—” Travis said “—is a guy trying to work a shakedown.”
“Shakedown?” Jean Claude walked around Travis, came to Julie’s side and laid one long-fingered hand on her shoulder.
She flinched and ducked out from under his touch. Jumping to her feet, she only swayed a little before locking her knees and lifting her chin. Damned if she’d let Jean Claude demoralize her again. Once in a lifetime was more than enough.
“I am only here because it is the right thing to do.” He smiled, set the glass of wine down and looked around as if searching for something better.
“Oh, I’m sure that’s the reason,” Travis said and slanted a quick, hard look at Julie.
She met his gaze squarely and tried to tell him silently that she hadn’t had a part in this. Whatever it was Jean Claude was up to, he was doing it on his own.
Smoothly, Jean Claude strolled around the room, inspecting the knickknacks, leaning in to check the signature on a painting of the vineyard, as if completely unconcerned about Travis’s mounting anger. And, he probably was, Julie thought. The man was single-minded, she’d give him that. He saw only what he wanted to see.
“Why are you here, Jean Claude? Really.” Julie asked the question because she wanted him gone. And the only way to accomplish that was to finish whatever he’d come to start.
“Why?” Jean Claude turned and gave her a smile most people reserved for a particularly bright three-year-old who’d managed to not spill his juice. “Surely that is clear, chérie.”
She didn’t bother to glance at Travis. She knew what he was feeling, because that anger of his was still vibrating into the room. Instead, she stared at the man she’d once promised to love and cherish, and she saw only a stranger. “Spell it out for me, Jean Claude.”
He sighed. “Very well. You see, when I read about the wedding of my sweet Julie to one of the powerful King family, I knew it was only right for me to come.”
“Uh-huh,” Travis said, moving to stand beside Julie, arms across his chest, long legs planted in a wide stance as if he were ready to do battle. “And the reason you waited until after the ceremony to speak up?”
Jean Claude gave him a pleased smile. “Why, speaking up beforehand might have alerted the press.” He smiled. “Something I’m sure you would rather not chance.”
The press. Julie could just imagine what the media would make of this. Vineyard Tycoon Marries Bigamist. Oh, wouldn’t that be great? Or maybe King’s Queen a Counterfeit. Her insides went cold and still. Jean Claude had come to blackmail Travis. It was the only explanation.