Billionaire Games Boxed Set 1-3 (28 page)

Andre might have laughed too, had it not been for the notion that it wasn’t just his inheritance at stake. In a thickened voice, Andre asked, “What am I going to do?”

“Oh, it’s simple.” Julian shook his head and followed it with a one-sided shrug. “Just find yourself a temporary wife.”

Andre snorted. “A questionable maneuver at best. One that you somehow lucked out on.”

“I thought it turned out perfectly.” Lecie brushed her bangs out of her eyes. “Maybe you should look in the same direction.”

“Tasha?” Andre knew where this was going. And it’s not that Tasha wasn’t a good choice. In fact, she’d be his first choice if he were going to enter into a marriage of convenience—or any other kind for that matter.

But Tasha wanted to be a star. And that didn’t include a starring, albeit temporary, role as Mrs. Andre de Laurent.

A
ndre slipped inside his father’s library and eased the door shut behind him. Maurice de Laurent stood at the colossal wall of windows behind his desk, looking out. He had a scotch on the rocks in one hand and his other was stuffed inside his trousers’ pocket.

The windows painted breathtaking views from the second floor. The east gardens below were in full bloom, with splashes of pinks, reds, purples, yellows and greens. The hilly terrain behind the stone wall drew the eye down to the Mediterranean, which looked like a blue-green haze in the distance.

Andre stopped two feet behind Papa. As a child, getting too close to the edge had always made him dizzy. It still did. The vertigo was a weakness Andre was usually capable of hiding by avoiding the edges of lofty places, including this one.

Only one thing would bring him to the edge of these windows—the prospect of losing billions.

“Your mother’s uncle has placed you in quite the predicament, hasn’t he?” Maurice asked, still looking out of the window.

“Our attorneys say there’s no way around the terms of the will.” A week had passed since the reading of the will, and it appeared that time was running out for Andre, and thereby his siblings.

“So they tell me.” Maurice turned to face his son and raised his glass to him. “You’d better get yourself a drink.”

Andre, unlike his brother Julian, hadn’t yet found the courage to challenge his father. Rather than considering it, he went to the bar and filled a glass halfway with ice. Instead of hitting his father’s private reserve in the bottom desk drawer, Andre grabbed a bottle of bourbon off the bar and poured a generous portion over the ice.

Andre took his drink and went to stand as close to his father as he dared get, considering the wall of windows.

Papa turned toward Andre and took two small steps, closing the small space between them. “You know what you have to do,” Papa said, and it was no question.

Yes
. But that didn’t mean it was going to be easy. Tasha was the only woman Andre could trust, but if he married her for convenience’s sake, he might end up ruining her life, just like Papa had ruined Mama’s. And if Andre found some other woman to marry him, even temporarily, how would Tasha react to that? Either way, she’d end up hating him.

“I know what I have to do.” Andre saluted Papa with his glass. “But that doesn’t mean it’s going to be easy.”

“Camille’s friend is very fond of you,” Papa said. “Surely you can talk her into helping you out.”

“Well, it’s not easy to go to someone you actually like and ask them to help you get your inheritance by temporarily marrying you.” Hearing it out loud for the first time, it hit Andre what a bad idea this was. “I won’t ruin her life.”

“I know you think I ruined your mother’s life by taking her dreams away from her.” Papa sighed. “But I never meant to hurt her. I loved her.”

“Yes, well…we don’t always mean to do the things we end up doing.” Andre downed his drink.

“Then give Tasha her dream.”

Andre tossed Papa a rigid glare. “How am I supposed to do that?”

Papa moved toward his chair and gestured for Andre to sit, as well. “I’ve been looking over Mont Claire’s holdings.”

There. It was things like that that irked Andre. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear that Papa was the one inheriting Uncle Edouard’s estate.

“And…?” Andre did his best to keep the vexation from his tone. Whether or not he was successful, he didn’t know.

Papa continued on with his purpose, “Draco Studios’ parent company is Mont Claire Enterprises.”

“Are you serious?” Andre straightened in his chair. Papa nodded. Finally, Andre was beginning to see a glimmer of light at the end of a year-long tunnel.

Surely if he was the majority holder in a lucrative company like Draco Studios, he could make Tasha’s dream come true.

Somehow, he’d convince her that a temporary marriage was a good idea. He’d get his inheritance and in the process he’d find a handful of top-notch scripts for her to choose from. Hell, she could star in them all if that’s what she wanted.

With a place like Draco Studios behind him, Andre would make Tasha a star.

M
aurice de Laurent lingered in his study long after his youngest son had gone. Andre would set out for America now, no doubt—which was fine with Maurice, as long as Andre returned with a wife.

The door eased open and Claudette slipped inside. “Is Andre going to see Tasha?” she asked, crossing the room. When she reached the desk she moved behind it and sat on the edge, crossing her legs toward Maurice.

“Yes.” He smiled, not missing her attempt to sway him. “I’m confident that he’ll return with Tasha.”

“What do you think induced Edouard to include Lecie in his will?”

“Who knows?” Maurice shrugged. “Perhaps it was meant as an extra incentive for Andre to readily meet the terms of the will?”

“Like billions isn’t enough.” Claudette laughed.

She had a point, but Andre could be unpredictable. “Well no matter the reason, all our children are in the will and everyone’s inheritance depends on Andre.”

“It will be nice to see him become his own boss.”

Maurice nodded. “Yes it will. I believe Andre has the makings to become a successful businessman.”

“And about this house in California that was left to Lecie? Can’t we have Andre look into selling it while he’s there?”

“We can, but you know it can’t be sold until the inheritance is final.”

“After Andre’s been married for one year?”

“Yes. And even then, you do realize that Lecie is the only one who can sell it.”

Claudette stood and straightened her skirt. “Ask Andre look into it. We have a year to talk her into selling.” She shook her head and headed for the door. She opened it, took one step out into the hallway and glanced over her shoulder. “I don’t like this business about her inheriting a house in California.”

Maurice nodded as she disappeared into the hallway and closed the door. Once he was sure she was gone, he said, “I have no idea why Edouard did that. It wasn’t part of the plan.”

CHAPTER FIVE

CECILY GARCEAU MASON AND HER younger brother Conrad stood to inherit billions—if she could find a way to keep their distant relative Andre de Laurent from marrying in the next sixty days.

The meeting she’d arranged between herself, her brother, her husband Daniel, and a man he’d hired to assist them required privacy, which is why she’d called Conrad to her home rather than some place out in the open like a restaurant.

“Why did you call me here to discuss
strategy
?” Conrad stood over Cecily’s small bar and plucked ice cubes from the bucket and dropped them into a whiskey glass. He grabbed the nearest decanter, whiskey, and looked at her. “I’ve told you, we have no legal recourse. Let it go.”

From across the room, Cecily pretzeled her arms in front of her and stared at Conrad. “I’m not letting anything go until I have my fair share of Edouard Renault’s estate.”

Cecily and Conrad had come from the poor side of the family. As far as she could see, this was their chance to get even for what she perceived as their great grandmother being left out in the cold.

Jacques Renault had made himself a fortune, and then he’d left his sister to live like a pauper. What kind of man does that, anyway? Cecily had always hated her great grandmother’s brother for that, and now that she had a bonafide chance to rectify the error, she wasn’t about to let it slip away to some technicality.

“Cecily, I just don’t see how we can do anything but wait and see.” If Conrad had half as much determination as that effective stare of his, they just might get somewhere.

“Connie…” She called him by the childhood nicknamed he loathed so much. She had to do something to get him riled up. “This is no time to take a wait and see stance.”

But of course, Conrad could afford to feel indifferent about the prospect. He’d done all right for himself, making a decent living as a probate attorney, while Cecily had been stuck in that hospital nursery for more years than she’d ever planned to stay. Of course, she loved the babies. That’s why she’d stayed. But there was something to be said for never having to go to the hospital again as a means to support herself. She’d much rather drop in for a visit once in a while. And Edouard Renault, as dead as he was, could make that happen.

Cecily barged across the room toward Conrad. “Do you think those billions are going to come knocking on the door? Connie, we have to take charge here.”

“Take charge?” he crowed. “There’s no way Andre de Laurent will relinquish his inheritance.”

At Conrad’s side now, Cecily reached for a glass and filled it with water. “Well, he won’t have a choice if he’s not married at the end of sixty days now, will he?” She held the glass next to her cheek and let her resolve shape her mouth into a smug smile.

“Look, when a man stands to inherit billions—if he needs a wife to do it, he’ll find one and he’ll have no trouble in his hunt.” He looked at the glass he’d been holding. He drew in a long breath then raised it to his lips, putting away half of the contents.

“We’ll just have to make sure he doesn’t find one.” Cecily reiterated with a nod.

“And how do you suppose we do that?”

“The first thing we have to do is find out whether or not he has any fair prospects from the women that he’s already acquainted with.”

“Well, of course he does. Every girl he’s ever known is a fair prospect.”

“You should hope that he’ll have to buy a wife.” Cecily was sure her laughter, although refrained, bit at Conrad.

“Why should that be so?”

“Because, brother dear, whatever he offers her, we’ll offer her more if she foils his plan.”

It wasn’t that Cecily had anything in particular against Andre de Laurent. Right now, he was the obstacle that stood in her way.

Little brother Conrad might be willing to sit around and wait to see if Andre de Laurent was going to find himself a wife or surrender the inheritance to them, but Cecily was not. She hadn’t spent forty-two years on this Earth to be cheated a second time.

Conrad was about to say something—probably more contempt for her plan—when the door opened. Cecily glanced up, seeing her husband and the PI they’d hired. “Ah, good…here’s Daniel now.” She set her glass on the bar and cut her eyes toward Conrad. “I have it all figured out. You’ll see.”

Daniel sidled up to Cecily and gave her a peck on the cheek. She responded with a cooing smile, took Daniel’s hands and nodded at the PI.

“Conrad,” Daniel said. “This is Peter Wittmeyer. Peter, this is my brother-in-law Conrad Garceau. And you know my wife Cecily.”

“Connie,” Cecily focused on her brother. “Mr. Wittmeyer has been in America, specifically California, on our behalf.”

“Why?” Conrad’s shaky voice and his ever-shifting eyes told Cecily he was tallying up imaginary numbers in his head. Wondering if they could afford it? No, but when billions were at stake, she was more than willing to take the risk. Conrad cleared his throat, but it did little to bring confidence to his tone. “Why would
we
send him to America?”

“To do reconnaissance.” Cecily turned to Peter, and asked, “Any luck?”

“That girl…” Wittmeyer said. “The one in the papers. She denies any close relation to de Laurent.”

“You talked directly to her?”

“Yes. I had breakfast at her place of employment. We had a nice conversation. She’s a waitress, which does corroborate her claim that they’re not involved.”

Cecily snorted. “Anybody who’s been photographed with my dear, distant cousin as many times as she has…you can believe they
are
involved.”

“I’m just telling you what she said.” Peter shook his head. “If your cousin is going to get married,
she’ll
be the one, and I doubt you’ll be able to sway her.”

“Oh, dear…” Cecily felt the knot form in her gut. “This is not good. Not good at all.” She swallowed hard, but was unable to keep the knot from rising into her throat.

“It’s just a minor setback,” Peter said.

“How so?”

“Doesn’t his marriage have to last a year?”

Cecily nodded.

“Well then, just make sure you break it up before that.”

Cecily sucked in a breath of hope. If Andre and his American floozy did marry, and Cecily somehow managed to break them up, surely the terms of the will wouldn’t tolerate a second shot.

CHAPTER SIX

THE SUN HAD NEARLY SET BEHIND THE horizon by the time Simon, Andre’s valet, had him packed and ready to head for America. Andre held onto the hope that this trip would put a quick end to his search for a bride.

Naturally, if Andre needed a wife, Tasha was his first choice. And Papa just may have come up with an approach to make that happen—in return for helping him, Andre would make Tasha a star.

It was the best offer he could make her, and the only one, he was sure, that would entice her to agree to this crazy scheme.

She had to consent to it. If she didn’t, he’d have to look for a wife elsewhere. And that meant he wouldn’t be able to see Tasha during the charade.
That thought settled low and heavy in his stomach.

At the airport, the car rolled to a stop on the tarmac near one of de Laurent Enterprises’ many jets.