Billionaire Games Boxed Set 1-3 (17 page)

“Papa…” he eased up to the table and sat next to his father. “You’re not pestering this young lady, are you?” he asked in an offhanded and joking manner. One he knew Papa would recognize for its hidden gravity. Julian was pretty sure the man had invented it himself.

“Me? Pester a lovely young lady?” he asked, as if that was a ridiculous notion. “Absolutely not.” He added his boisterous trademark laughter, knowing it intimidated most people.

What Papa didn’t know was that it hadn’t intimidated Julian for quite some time. He’d been waiting for the perfect moment, and decided the time had come for his demands.

Julian leaned closer to his father. “When I return from my honeymoon—” His soft whispering tone tangled with the hardened stare he was caught up in with Papa. Julian didn’t blink. “—I want Madeleine out of the house.”

“Boy, don’t presume to tell me what or who to invite into my home.” Maurice kept his voice low, but stern.

“Either she goes, or Camille and I will move into town.” Julian played his hand, but it wasn’t a bluff. He was prepared to move out of Pacifique de Lumière because the only thing Maurice de Laurent hated more than being told what to do, was being abandoned by his family. Julian smirked and leaned back into his chair. “I do believe Claudette is looking for you.”

Papa’s head crooked around, as if in spy mode, searching for his wife.

Julian leaned closer before Papa had the chance to escape. “You wouldn’t know what happened to my wife’s dress, would you?”

Papa looked stunned. “You think I had something to do with that?”

Julian studied his face. “In a word…yes. I wouldn’t put it past you.”

“Julian, I swear to you…” he said, raising a hand in the air as if giving an oath. “I had nothing to do with the disappearance of that wedding gown. Claudette would have my head.”

That was true. Claudette didn’t mess around when it came to fashion, and high-priced fashion at that. Julian doubted Papa would risk the doghouse just to upset Camille. No, this had to be Madeleine’s doing.

Camille appeared in his peripheral vision, headed toward him, still wearing the same length-shrinking dress. She’d let her hair down, and he found the look, although a bit on the wild side, just as pleasing as before the rain. The perfect picture of grace, she greeted their guests with polite smiles and gestures as she passed them by. Julian swelled with pride.

He stood, pulled her chair out and waited. She smiled as she sat, and something in her manner soothed him. “I wondered where you’d gone off to,” he said, returning to his seat.

“Just freshening up a bit.” She surveyed the crowd around them with a quick glance. “So what’s on the agenda for this evening?” She settled her gaze on Julian. “We do need to talk.”

He chuckled. “We’ll have plenty of time to talk about whatever your heart desires. There’s going to be nobody but you and me for the next ten days…well, you, me and a small crew.”

Camille studied his face. No doubt trying to figure out the mystery surrounding his elusive clue. But he wasn’t telling.

“Am I going to regret this?”

Julian pretended to consider it. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “I can pretty much guarantee you’re going to love it.” He smiled and winked.

“Full of yourself, aren’t you?” she asked, half-serious, half-teasing.

“I’m getting to you.” Julian caught her gaze and trapped her there.

“Not as much as you want to.”

“Are you ready?”

“For…?”

“To…how do you Americans say…?” He paused, and searched his mind for the correct phrase. “Blow this pop stand?”

Camille giggled. “That’s so 1990s.” She looked at the bridal bouquet on the table. “But I haven’t tossed my bouquet away yet.”

“You’re really going to throw that away?” He didn’t understand the concept. Women were extremely sentimental and giving their bridal bouquet away made absolutely no sense.

“Well, this is not the one I carried down the aisle. It’s a replacement to use specifically for tossing the bouquet.” She reached for the flowers and cut her eyes toward Andre and Tasha.

Julian stole a look across the table. His brother was making a spectacle of himself. Julian managed to contain his amusement and kept the laughter to just a thought. He scooped up a handful of miniature mints in a nearby bowl and tossed them at Andre, tearing him away from Tasha. Julian’s laughter escaped.

Andre glared at Julian and mouthed the word, “What?”

“You’re on, little brother,” Julian said. “Gather all the single girls around.”

A smile spread across Andre’s face. “I can do that.” He stood and scooted Tasha up to the dance floor.

Once Andre had gathered a slew of single girls around Tasha, Julian reached for Camille’s hand and led her to the stage in front of the dance floor. He turned her back to the crowd and winked, saying, “No peeking.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Don’t tell anyone,” Julian said, as Andre hopped up onto the stage.

“Ladies, ladies…gather round.” Andre coaxed with waving hands. “It’s that time. Who’s going to be next?”

“Andre, we want to see you front and center when Julian tosses the garter.” An unidentifiable feminine voice came out of the crowd.

In spite of himself, Julian chuckled at Andre trying to charm his way out of this one. Andre landed his hand against his chest and followed it with a defining headshake. Baby brother was not interested in being next.

Andre turned his focus on Camille. “Okay, on the count of three.” He paused and draped his hand over the microphone. “Just toss it over your shoulder. They’ll do the rest.”

Julian moved closer to Camille, targeting her ear. “Ten Euros says he’ll use this bouquet-throwing incident to seduce the woman who catches it.”

Camille looked at Andre. “Ten Euros. Is that a lot?”

Andre’s laughter had a bite to it. “Okay, ladies…here we go.” He cajoled Camille with a gentle nudge. “One. Two. Three…”

She tossed the bouquet back over her head and it sailed into the cluster of single women. The flowers bounced around as if on a springboard, rebounding off Tasha’s head and sailing behind her into Lecie’s hands…where it stayed.

Oh, Papa wasn’t going to like this. Julian snickered inside. At least she was safe from Andre’s charms.

“Okay, bud…” Camille hit his arm and waggled her hands. “Cough it up. Ten Euros. Pay up.”

One of the groomsmen passed a chair up to the stage. Andre directed Camille to sit. She glanced anxiously between Julian and his brother. Julian flashed her an assuring smile and leaned in toward her ear. “No worries, Chéri. I’m just going to tastefully removed your garter and toss it out into a group of uninteresting and undeserving members of the male sex.” He kissed her cheek and she giggled as Julian dropped to the floor on one knee.

“He’s already been there.” Another nameless female yelled out, and all the other women howled.

Julian bowed his head and smiled at the mob, and that induced them to cheer louder. He slid his hands beneath Camille’s dress and ran them slowly up her smooth, bare leg. The gentleman in him stopped when he found the garter.

“Remember,” Andre said to Julian, “This is a G-rated show.”

“I know that,” Julian huffed under his breath. Did Andre think him a cad? He thought he deserved a bit more credit.

Julian slid the garter down Camille’s leg and over her foot. He swung it around his extended forefinger like a hula hoop. When the crowd neared a frenzied state, Julian whipped it into the air like a prize.

The wedding guests cheered with catcalls and profane words in French. Julian slipped his hand around Camille’s. He scanned over the crowd to see who’d caught the garter, but came up with nothing. He wouldn’t care much, except that Lecie had caught the bouquet and these two people were supposed to dance.

He leaned toward Andre. “Who caught that?”

“Stephan Payette.”

“You tell that little shit to keep his hands off Lecie.” Julian ordered, trying to contain his ferocity and hint at it at the same time. He turned to Camille and she softened his mood. “Are you ready?”

She raised her chin with a cool stare in his direction.

“Trust me,” he said.

She looked at him like she’d already done that and look where it had gotten her. Julian winked at her and squeezed her hand.

“Yeah, okay.” Her expression of doubt changed to desire.

Julian winked at her again, his confidence growing. He tore his attention away from Camille and turned to their guests. “As much fun as this party is…” He laughed comically. “My wife and I must bid you adieu.”

Julian hopped off the stage and swept Camille into his arms. He kept her there as he made his way through the crowd and to the limo waiting just outside the tent’s main entrance. Soren was waiting by the car.

Good. He was back. That meant he’d completed his task.

Julian set Camille on her feet and Soren opened the car door. She slid inside, and Julian leaned against the opened door motioning for Soren to come closer. He inched toward Julian.

“Did you take care of it?” Julian asked.

“Yes, sir. It’s in the safe on the boat.” Soren folded his hands behind his back and a smile spread over his face. “She will be pleased, sir.”

“Good.” Julian slapped him on the arm and slipped inside the car.

“Have a good trip, sir,” Soren said, closing the door. While Julian and Camille were honeymooning, Soren was taking his own, much deserved vacation. He’d earned it with his flawless loyalty.

Julian turned to Camille and draped his arm along the back of the seat.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going now?” she asked, intrigued.

“No.” Julian grinned.

She sighed and smacked him on the knee. “Why not?”

“It’s a surprise.” Julian reached for the champagne bottle resting in the bin of ice. He snagged two glasses hidden inside a nearby compartment, steadied them between the fingers of one hand and filled them with the bubbly. He returned the bottle back to the ice and handed her a glass.

Suspicion held her gaze on him a little longer than necessary. She laced her fingers around the flute’s stem, still looking at him. After a moment, she closed her eyes and sipped the champagne.

Julian took the opportunity to gaze at her while she wasn’t looking and tried to evaluate her unreadable features. Failing miserably, he was somehow comforted by her nearness.

Her eyes opened slowly and focused on him. “So, why won’t you tell me where we’re going?” she asked again, more persistent this time.

“Already told you.” He shook his head. “It’s a surprise.”

“Well, how long will we be gone?”

“About ten days.”

“Ten days?” she echoed. “Are we going on a
honeymoon
?”

“Such as it is.” He couldn’t sound too eager. Women never found eagerness from a man appealing. “We have an image to uphold, Chéri.”

“Yeah…” The single word trailed off into a long, low sigh and the smile on her face faded.

She was probably getting tired of all the drama. He couldn’t blame her after the day they’d had. With any luck, he’d change all that with a short trip to the marina.

If not, it was going to be a long, lonely ten days.

CHAPTER TWELVE

CAMILLE COULDN’T GET A BREAK. The rain had returned in another torrential downpour by the time the limo arrived at the marina. Curiosity over why they’d come here engulfed her, but she didn’t dwell on it. She tried to peer out the car’s windows, but sheets of rain distorted her view. All she could make out was blurred structures that she decided were luxury yachts.

“We’ll wait a few moments for the rain to subside,” Julian said, the car rolling up beside a massive ship.

“Then what?” Camille asked. She’d learned a long time ago not to make assumptions.

“Then we’re going to get on the boat.”

“Boat?” She tried to hide her enthusiasm behind a stoic expression, and wasn’t sure if she’d succeeded.

Julian leaned toward her. She wished he wouldn’t do that. Being this close to him was too tempting. Resisting his charms for the next six months might prove harder than she’d anticipated.

“Yes, the Naoma Louise,” he said in a broken whisper.

“Well, that sure clears it up.” She giggled, more at herself than anything else. She glanced out the window. The rain was still pouring. “Is it that one right there?” she asked, pointing to the blur they’d parked beside.

“Yes. That’s the Naoma Louise.”

“The Naoma Louise?” She stared unseeing at the distorted figure. “Does the name hold some significance?”

“My mother’s name.”

A faint flicker of sadness rattled through her, shaking her shoulders.

“Are you cold, Chéri?” he asked attentively.

“Not in the least,” Camille said, wagging her head.

She glanced at her dress. It’s not like it could get ruined anymore than it already had. And besides, the huge blur looked a lot bigger than the car she and Julian were caged in. She could get with putting some distance between them, and maybe a dry change of clothing.

“What the hell.” She shrugged and perched her hands in the air. “Let’s go for it.” She latched onto the door handle.

He looked at her with surprise and intrigue. “Now? In the rain?”

“Come on…where’s your sense of adventure?” They’d already gotten soaked once today. What could one more time hurt?

“All right.” He finally came around. “But wait here. I’ll open your door.”

What a gentleman. She chuckled inside, pleased.

Julian opened his door and slipped out into the rainy night. Seconds later, the car door opened and a blast of cool rain bulleted Camille and the inside of the limo. She shielded her face with one hand and took Julian’s with the other, climbing out onto the wet pavement and venturing into the storm. They ran, and she wished she’d taken off her shoes, afraid she’d slip on the slick surface.

Julian guided her aboard the ship and into the lounge on the main deck. He shut the door between them and the rain, and Camille released the breath she’d been holding.

They both dragged their soaked hair out of their faces and let their laughter fill the room.

“What do you say we get out of these wet clothes?” she asked, and immediately saw the desire to throw out some derisive comeback in his smile. “Into something warm and dry, I mean,” she added, not wanting it to sound like a desperate come-on.