Billionaire Games Boxed Set 1-3 (25 page)

She laughed. “So much like your father. Right down to business.”

Julian crossed his arms in front of him. He didn’t like being compared to Papa.

“Relax,” she said, reaching for him. “I just came by for a friendly chat.”

A friendly chat? Since when did he and his stepmother have friendly chats?

“All right,” he said, knowing she was up to something and it behooved him to find out what. “Anything in particular that you’d like to
chat
about?”

“Have you made up your mind?”

“About what?”

“Your wife.”

“My wife?” He was unable to contain the skeptical laughter erupting from his gut.

“She is still your wife, isn’t she?”

“She left me.”

“And…”

“And what?”

“Is she or is she not still your wife?”

Julian paused. It wasn’t right to lie to Claudette. She’d stepped in when his mother checked out and had been a suitable replacement to both him and Andre. “Technically.”

“Technically?” Claudette scoffed. “Either she is or she isn’t. Did you or did you not sign the divorce documents?”

Julian had lost this battle and he didn’t like it. “No,” he said in a defeated manner. “I did not.”

“Any particular reason why?”

Yes, there was a reason. Papa was still hanging around like a vulture, shoving Madeleine at Julian every chance he got. But the way Julian saw it, he couldn’t get married if he already had a wife.

“Was it just a means to divert your father regarding Madeleine? Or is it something else?”

“What else could it be?” He laughed skeptically, to hide his anxiety that someone saw through his pretense.

“Maybe the bride herself?” Claudette asked. “Maybe you’re not quite ready to let go of her?”

No. Julian wasn’t going to admit that. Not out loud.

“The look on your face tells me everything I need to know.”

She gave him one of those
you-poor-pitiful-soul
glances.

“That bad?”

“That obvious.” Claudette hesitated and leaned toward Julian. “Did she sell her story?”

Julian snapped his head toward her. She knew? But how…? Papa would’ve never divulged such a potentially damaging thing to Claudette. Things that affected the family in an adverse way were never released outside the boardroom or Papa’s study.

Julian examined Claudette with scrutinizing eyes.

“Well?” she asked, shrugging.

“No.”

“Why? Did you buy it?”

He hesitated. “I tried, but she backed out of the deal.”

“Backed out, huh.” Claudette’s stoic face gave nothing away about what she was thinking. “She tell you that herself?”

“No, but she turned down the payment at the last minute.”

“Maybe she thought it was wrong to get paid for something she never intended to write in the first place.”

Claudette stood and strolled toward the door. She stopped short a few steps and looked over her shoulder. “You know, de Laurent Enterprises isn’t going to fade away if you leave for a while.”

That’s what Julian was afraid of, people finding out they didn’t need him—for anything.

Perhaps Claudette was right, though. Perhaps he’d misjudged Camille. Perhaps she’d never intended to write a story about him and the family in the first place.

That was a notion worth investigating.

C
amille wasn’t particularly pleased about being called in to work on her day off for some private party renting out the diner. Why couldn’t one of the waitresses scheduled to work take the shift? Why’d it have to be her? And what kind of idiot rents out a run-down diner?

Camille wished they’d hurry up and get here because the sooner they did, the sooner she could call it a night.

She pushed the kitchen door open and went inside. There must have been something she’d forgotten, just as she did every day. Truth be told, Camille wasn’t the best waitress around, which explained her employment here.

“Okay, so how many people are going to be in this party?” she said to her boss, doing a poor job of hiding her unhappiness and the fact that she was tired and just wanted to rest. But there wasn’t any rest for people like Camille. The working class.

“Just two,” George said, leaning against the grill, which wasn’t turned on. There was nothing prepped.

Just two? So why was Ashley here too? Did George really think Camille couldn’t handle serving two people?
What’s going on
? No wonder this place sucked. George wasn’t any better at running this joint than she was at waiting on the customers.

Ashley burst into the kitchen. “They’re here.” There was something in her voice, her tone and her demeanor that alarmed Camille. Ashley was too happy, too excited.

Camille scoffed. She wanted to strangle the girl.

“Come on, lighten up.” Ashley came toward her with a wink and a friendly smile. “It’s not that bad.”

Of course it was that bad. Who was she kidding? The only way it could not be this bad was if Camille was a member of the dining party.

She sighed and shook her head. Julian’s world had gotten to her. When was she going to realize she wasn’t one of the fortunate ones? She wasn’t lucky. She wasn’t privileged.

Maybe Ashley was right. Maybe Camille should look on the bright side. Maybe this was her chance to score a hefty tip. One she could use to put a small dent in that massive debt she owed Julian.

“Okay, so where do I start. What should I do?” She turned to George. How was she supposed to ‘serve’ these people if George wasn’t cooking?

“Why don’t you go out and welcome our guest?”

“Okay.” Camille rolled her eyes. Greeting the customers was useless when there was nothing to serve them. But who was she to argue.

She shoved through the door and out into the dining area. This was ridiculous. She’d probably end up biting the dust on this one. She’d been holding onto this job by a very thin thread as it was, and she got the feeling the blame for the fallout from this unorganized private dinner would ultimately land at her feet.

Out in the dining room, the place was empty. There was no one there. She ambled toward the front of the diner with slow, almost guarded steps, scanning both rows of booths lining the walls. Pausing at the front window, she looked outside but saw nothing unusual.

Hm….
Her hands landed on her hips and she gave the exterior one last glance before turning back to the interior. Leisurely steps took her back toward the kitchen. Somehow, this was going to bite her in the butt.

She paused a few feet from the kitchen door, near the last booth, and glanced over her shoulder to give the empty restaurant one last look. Weird. And just her luck. The customers probably took one look at the neighborhood and split.

Camille decided to go back into the kitchen and face
George. He wasn’t going to be happy about closing up shop for nothing.

A glittering twinkle on the last table before the kitchen, caught her eye.

Julian’s necklace?

Her heart pounded. Camille sucked in a breath, as if that could calm it. She moved closer, inspecting it. It
was
Julian’s necklace.

The kitchen door swung open, drawing Camille’s attention.

Julian de Laurent stood in the doorway, looking handsome and humbled.

Camille’s heart hammered against her chest. Fearing her mouth would fall open, she tightened her lips and forced them together.

Julian smiled one of those hopeful-looking smiles she was used to seeing from the diner’s gracious patrons. Not a bad thing, just not what she was used to seeing from Julian.

She looked away, not knowing why he was here, but still fearful of losing her heart. “What are you doing here?” she asked, forcing her gaze back to him. “What happened? My check bounce?”

Julian snickered with a one-sided grin and walked toward her. “Chéri…I have missed you so.” He scooped her hands in his. She stiffened.

“You missed me?” she asked. “That’s all you have to say?” Camille yanked her hands free and turned away, more afraid this was some kind of joke than anything else.

Julian, as if he’d picked up on her weakness, stepped closer and guided her face, with gentle fingertips, until her gaze met his. His touch rekindled the hunger she’d been trying to smote. And those green eyes caught her, holding her captive. Undressing her. Caressing her. Tormenting her.

Camille wanted to break the gaze and called upon her anger for assistance. “No. I’m not feeling this, Julian.” She backed away and shook her head. “What do you want?” she asked again, more forceful this time, stopping at the last booth before the kitchen.

He moved toward her. She braced herself against the booth, just in case her head swooned down into her heart.

“I came here to say I’m sorry.” There was none of the usual arrogance in his tone. Only regret with a hint of hope.

That shocked Camille and scared her at the same time. “Apologize to me?” Her fingers landed against her chest. “A liar and a cheat.” She hoped the words stung him. They had when she’d heard them pour from his mouth.

But her words didn’t seem to faze Julian in the least. He moved within inches of her and fenced her in, latching both his hands onto the booth.

“Here.” She tried to use the necklace as a barrier, holding it against his chest. That was a mistake. The feel of his muscular frame beneath his suit sent shockwaves of desire trembling through her.

Julian took the trinket and moved closer, draping it around her neck. She didn’t move, in fact, she held her breath. He took forever to clasp the damn thing. The lack of oxygen squeezed her lungs and fogged her brain. Just when she thought she’d pass out, he trailed his fingertips over her shoulders and down her arms, stepped back and released her.

She siphoned a deep breath and a shudder of desire slipped in. His magnetism was so potent.

A smile quirked Julian’s lips as he reached into his jacket pocket. “Close your eyes.” The arrogance had returned to his eyes, like he knew he had her right where he wanted.

But Camille couldn’t forget the hatred he’d dealt her back in France. “That’s probably not a good idea.”

He shushed her. “Close your eyes,” he said again, with forceful calm.

She did it, against her better judgment.

Camille felt Julian’s fingers engulfing her left hand and she started to get nervous. She yanked away, opening her eyes. “This is so not cool.” Somehow, she managed to slink out of his snare and rushed to the other side of the restaurant.

As she suspected, he followed.

“Chéri, you’re my wife,” he said. “Can’t you at least give me a chance to explain?”

She stopped. Irritation consumed her. She pivoted around and stuck a finger in his face. “First off…I’m not your wife. Not anymore.” She paused, trying to contain the irrational behavior building up inside. “Secondly…as far as explanations go, I’ll give you the same consideration you gave me.”

She tried to move away, toward the kitchen. Julian grabbed her wrist and pulled her roughly, almost violently against him.

“First of all…yes, you are my wife. Still.”

What
? She’d signed the papers. They were divorced.

“I don’t know about the rules in America, but in France a divorce takes two signatures.”

“I signed.” She looked away.

“I didn’t.”

“What?”

“I didn’t sign. I couldn’t.”

“Oh, I get it.” She sighed, disappointed. “You don’t want to be divorced because then you’ll be free to be pushed into marriage with Madeleine.”

“No. That’s not why I didn’t sign.” His tone took on a quality of mockery before it was overshadowed by remorse. “When it came down to it, I couldn’t break our connection. Yours and mine.”

He was good, she’d give him that. A passionate fluttering popped up in her chest. It was wise to ignore her heart and all it desired. Camille had trusted him before and look how that turned out. But he was looking at her with that look of his, the one that made her heart go pitter-patter.

She sighed, fighting that sinking, losing feeling.

“Please come home?”

“That’s probably not a good idea,” she said, shaking her head.

“Please, Camille. I realized something when you left.” His voice drifted into a hushed whisper. “I love you. I need you to come home. Forever.”

Love
? Was he serious? She chewed on her lower lip and stole a look at him.

Julian shot her a mischievous grin before releasing her hands. He backed into the nearest booth and dropped her wedding rings onto the table.

“What are you doing?” she asked, his actions sending her pulses spinning.

“I’m sitting down.”

“Why?”

“It looks like I’m going to be here a while.”

She hesitated, blinking with bafflement.

“I’m not leaving until you agree to come home.” There was something genuine and truthful and determined in his manner. Julian was serious.

Camille slid into the opposite side of the booth and laid her hand on the table. “Well, you’ve got a long wait ahead of you.” She tried not to smile, but couldn’t help herself.

“I’ve got all the time in the world.” He reached across the table and grabbed at her fingers.

Camille ignored the blush burning her cheeks. She could hold out about ten minutes. Fifteen, if she tried really hard. When Julian turned on the charm, he had no trouble getting whatever he wanted.

Including Camille.

EPILOGUE

One month later

THE NAOMA LOUISE CREPT OUT OF the marina, gliding toward the waters of the Mediterranean as the last, faint colors of day faded away.

Julian waited on deck for Camille. She’d said she wanted to slip into something more comfortable. He hoped that meant
sexy
.

They’d made a quick get-away right after the ceremony; she hadn’t even taken the time to change out of her dress. They’d done the whole wedding-circus act last time. This time, it’d been just for them.

It seemed like the logical step after Soren had found her wedding dress in that little second-hand shop in Marseilles last week. It’d been a stroke of luck, actually, when Soren saw it in the shop’s window while driving past.