Billionaire Games Boxed Set 1-3 (26 page)

After Julian reacquired the gown—and learning Madeleine had sold it to the shop—it only seemed fitting that he and Camille should renewed their vows so she could wear the dress that’d been made specifically for her.

They had done that today, and now, he was taking her on a cruise of the Greek Islands—a desire she had expressed right after he’d brought her to France the first time.

Julian looked at his watch, and back to the double doors leading below deck.
What’s taking so long?

Just when he was ready to go look for her, Camille emerged wearing a sheer black negligee over a bikini of the same color.

Desire swelled inside him, as quickly as a summer storm brews. Drinking in the sight of her, he stood slowly. “You look absolutely stunning.”

A rush of pink stained her cheeks. Julian swept her into his arms. She sank into his embrace, saying, “Thank you for bringing my dress home.”

“Anything to see you smile.” He kissed her, savoring every second. “As far as weddings go, I think this one was by far our best.”

“Well, you know what they say…” She looked at him with eyes that said she was ready to embark on the voyage of love. “Third time’s a charm.”

Julian laughed, and latched onto her hands. “I have something for you.” He led her down to the chaise lounge chair and pulled her into his lap.

She snuggled her face into the crook of his neck. “You really don’t have to give me presents.”

“Well,” he said, reaching for a folded document on the table beside them. “This is a special one.”

He offered it to her; she took it and sat up, then unfolded the document and perused it. As she read, her mouth dropped open. She looked up at him, shaking her head. “Julian…?”

“You now own half of everything that is mine.”

She glanced away, and remained silent for a time. It felt like forever before she sucked in a breath, and said, “Julian…I don’t want your money.” She shrugged. “Just your love.”

“And that, Chéri, you have.” He snuggled her closer. “No one will ever tear us apart again.”

“You promise?” she whispered.

“I promise.” He caressed her soft curves and she molded into the contours of his body. “Have I told you today that I love you?”

“Once or twice, my love. Once or twice.” Her soft, whispering breath tickled his neck.

Holding Camille in his arms, Julian was the happiest of men. Their marriage had started as a business arrangement, but somewhere along the way they’d fallen in love.

Destiny had certainly smiled upon Julian when she paired him with Camille—his perfect match.

THE MARRIAGE CAPER

by

Sandra Edwards

The Marriage Caper

Copyright © 2013 Sandra Edwards

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from Sandra Edwards.

Published by SE Press

United States of America

Electronic Edition: July, 2013

ISBN: 978-1-934342-01-5

ASIN: B00BC6SVY8

Edited by Jennifer Lawrence.

Cover Art by Sandra Edwards. Photo obtained from Fotolia.com.

This book is a work of fiction and all characters exist solely in the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Any references to places, events or locales are used in a fictitious manner.

This book is dedicated to the memory of Kathryn Steele,

who loved nothing better than a good romance.

R.I.P. Aunt Kathryn 1922 ~ 2013

CHAPTER ONE

Marseilles, France

ANDRE DE LAURENT HATED THESE small, intimate dinner parties at the house. He was always expected to attend, even on nights like this when it was just the family and one of his sister Lecie’s friends.

The pre-dinner cocktails had barely started. He didn’t have to look at his watch to know dinner would be served in approximately thirty-five minutes. Enough time—as Tasha had once said—for everyone to get a good buzz going.

Tasha. He wished she was here. He missed her, never having the good fortune of seeing her often enough.

“Andre…” His brother’s voice broke into his thoughts. Funny, he hadn’t noticed when Julian had moved to his side in front of the majestic fireplace made of natural stone. In the winter, the heat permeated a calming effect along with the warmth. Too bad it was the dead of summer. Andre could use a little calming.

He looked up into Julian’s mirror-like eyes. Both brothers’ eyes were a Pacific blue, but Andre’s were a shade lighter than Julian’s. The same with their hair. Julian’s was darker and curlier. Big brother was taller, too. Even though Andre had heard more than one woman say that he, Andre, was the better looking brother, that hadn’t stopped women from throwing him over for Julian. Being the heir to the de Laurent fortune had its own appeal.

And then there was Lecie, Andre and Julian’s younger half sister. She was her mother’s daughter. Blonde hair and blue eyes, just like Claudette.

Andre had to admit that after Claudette married his father, she’d stepped in and been a wonderful mother to both him and Julian. All things considered, they were a close family, though Papa was prone to meddling in their lives.

Now that Papa could no longer interfere in Julian’s love life—thanks to Julian’s solid marriage with Camille—that could mean only one thing. Andre was next. But Andre wasn’t interested in marrying. Not in the least.

Andre leaned toward Julian, and whispered, “How long do you suppose it will be before we can make an escape?”

“Papa’s got his eye on you, little brother,” Julian said, almost laughing.

“Whatever for?”

“I suppose you’ll be his new pet project.”

Andre groaned. “Tell me you’re joking.” He cast a quick, stealth-like glance around the grand salon where Papa liked to impress his guests. The main parlor was directly in the middle of Pacifique de Lumière, Andre’s family home—that Julian would one day inherit—and it had been impressing people for more than four hundred years.

“Papa has been up to something.” Julian paused to knock back his cocktail. “Mysterious trips up to Avignon. More than once in the last month.”

Avignon? That’s where Andre and Julian’s late mother was from. Why was Papa going up there? Andre shook his head. It mattered little. Nothing Papa threw at him could persuade Andre to become the subject of his experimentations.

Deidra, Lecie’s friend, sidled up to Andre’s side. She’d had a crush on Andre for years, he knew that, but he’d never wanted to the hurt the mousy little girl’s feelings, and he wasn’t about to start now.

“Deidra, we haven’t seen much of you lately.” He gave her a friendly smile because he doubted she received many of those. “I hope all is well with your parents.”

“They’re fine.” She glanced away as her cheeks turned red. “I’ve been spending some time in the States with my grandmother.”

Andre grinned. “I’ve been spending some time in the States myself. California.”

“I’ve heard. Florida here.” Deidra’s tone remained cheerful, but her face showed her sadness over his reason for the trips to the US.

“Who knows…maybe you’ll find your own reason for visiting Florida.” Andre gave her a wink. “Other than your grandmother.”

From the corner of his eye, Andre didn’t miss Parker, Pacifique de Lumière’s butler, whispering in Papa’s ear. Seconds later, both men scrambled out of the parlor.

M
aurice de Laurent hurried down the hallway and slipped inside his study, closing the door behind him. Traversing the dimly-lit room proved no problem for him. His feet knew where every obstacle lay and instinctively avoided them.

He settled himself behind his desk and pulled the receiver off the telephone’s base, laying it against his ear. “Maurice de Laurent.” After the simple greeting, he listened intently, showing little emotion. Once the message had been relayed, he said, “thank you for calling,” and hung up the phone.

It was over. His late wife’s uncle, Edouard Renault had died.

CHAPTER TWO

THE FUNERAL OF EDOUARD RENAULT WAS AN unexpected event for Andre and his siblings, although his death, as it turned out, wasn’t that surprising since the man had surpassed eighty years of age last winter and had been diagnosed with incurable cancer some months back.

Andre knew the man was his mother’s uncle, but he had precious few memories of her and even fewer of Renault. After Andre and Julian’s mother Naoma died, more than twenty years ago, they saw little of her family.

Andre, Julian and his wife Camille, and Lecie stood together quietly, respectfully, during the graveside service at the private cemetery at Belle Vallee, a chateau outside Avignon owned by the Renault family. With a bouquet of calla lilies and honeysuckle in hand—Naoma de Laurent’s favorite flowers—Andre waited patiently for the service to conclude and the crowd to disperse. Then, and only then, could he move on to the real reason he’d come here.

When the final prayer was said, Papa and a man whose identity was unknown to Andre approached him and his siblings. All four remained still and silent, waiting for Papa to say something.

“Harry, these are my children.” Papa looked at each of them as he said their names. “My eldest son Julian and his wife Camille, my youngest son Andre, and my daughter Lecie.” His gaze cut back to Andre rather than Julian, which was where it usually landed since he was older. “Mr. Martel is Edouard’s attorney.”

“I’m very pleased to meet each of you.” The attorney shook the brothers’ hands and bowed his head respectfully to Camille and Lecie. “My condolences.”

“Likewise,” Julian said.

“Pardon me,” Camille, the American of the bunch, spoke up. “Who is that couple over there?” She gave a nonchalant nod toward the other side of the casket. “The man keeps staring at us.” It was hard to know if the woman was staring too; she had an old-fashioned, black veil hanging from her hat and it covered her face entirely.

Harry glanced over his shoulder and turned back quickly. “Ah…distant cousins of Julian and Andre’s. They are Conrad and Cecily Garceau.” He shrugged and shook his head. “I’m sure it’s just idle curiosity. Long lost relatives can be intriguing.”

“If you would excuse me,” Andre nodded and backed up a step or two. “But I’d like to visit my mother’s grave before we leave.”

After a brief turn of pleasant goodbyes, Andre looked at his brother. “You coming?”

“We’ll catch up in a moment,” Julian said.

That was enough for Andre. He gave the attorney one last friendly nod and let the hand holding the bouquet of flowers drop to his side as he headed off.

Two rows over, he found his mother’s grave, which had been adorned with a fresh spray of yellow roses. His stepmother Claudette’s doing, no doubt. She was always attentive to Andre and Julian’s feelings, making sure there were fresh flowers on their mother Naoma’s grave on her birthday and at Christmas. Andre would have to remember to thank her.

He knelt and deposited the flowers into the vase-like hole at the bottom of the headstone. The yellow calla lilies in his bouquet complemented the roses in Claudette’s spray.

Andre traced his fingertips over his mother’s image—infinitely young and beautiful—permanently encased in the marble stone. He smiled, then tightened his lips to keep from tearing up.

A longing ache tore at his chest, even though he had so few memories of his mother that he couldn’t remember what she looked like. The only thing left of his tattered recollections was being held lovingly in a woman’s arms. By now, her face had faded from his mind. But not the scent of her. His mother had always smelled like a garden of roses dampened by rain. To this day, the scent lingered in his memories.

If Andre had needed a reminder that fairy tales don’t come true, a visit to his mother’s grave would always do it. His mother’s life, after she married his father, had been anything but a fairy tale. Otherwise, why would she have killed herself? She hadn’t left a note, so they had no way of knowing, and that troubled Andre each and every day of his life.

Why was she so unhappy? She’d loved Julian and Andre, evident by the pictures. Was it because marrying Papa had devastated her dreams?

Naoma had been a wonderful ballet dancer, but there was no room for dancing when she became the wife of Maurice de Laurent. She’d left that world behind, right along with her maiden name.

Had marrying Papa killed her spirit?

“Little brother…” Julian laid his hand on Andre’s shoulder and said no more. Words strong enough to comfort a long-grieving son did not exist.

Still kneeling at the grave, Andre looked back over his shoulder. Julian wore a satisfied smile, hanging on to Camille’s hand. She seemed utterly content, standing at his side. Andre hoped his sister-in-law didn’t live to regret her decision to marry into the de Laurent family.

Big brother had guts. Andre didn’t have aspirations to curse a woman like that—which was why he’d never marry.

Andre remained nearby while Julian and Camille offered a moment of silence before they headed back to the car.

Claudette, Lecie and Papa were already in the limo. Andre, the last to climb in, sat next to Julian and avoided looking at Papa sitting across from him. Papa was up to something. Andre didn’t know what, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to.

Papa opened his lapels and fiddled with his tie. Papa, nervous? Now that was a novelty.

“It was a very nice service,” Claudette said.

“Yes, but I still don’t understand why
we
were there.” Julian shook his head. “We barely knew the man. Andre and I haven’t seen him in more than twenty years.”

“You two—” Papa’s voice grew stern. “—are the nearest living relatives the man had.”

“What about our long lost cousins?” Andre asked.

“They’re very distant relatives. And of little consequence.” Papa looked at Andre, which surprised him, because Papa always looked at Julian when he talked to them. “Clear your schedules for next Wednesday. You have an appointment scheduled with Harry Martel. You too, Lecie,” Papa added glancing at her.