Billionaire Games Boxed Set 1-3 (33 page)

“You take good care of my little girl, Andre.” Nola smiled, consumed with pride.

“You can count on it,” Andre said as the driver opened the door. He smiled, guided Tasha into the car, then offered one last wave before disappearing inside with her.

The driver shut the door and trotted around to his side and jumped in. Seconds later, the brake lights flickered and the car rolled away from the hotel’s entrance.

Pride swelled around Nola’s heart and nearly pushed the tears past her eyes. Nola had done well. Her little girl was marrying the handsomest, richest man of Nola’s acquaintance—or anyone else she knew, for that matter.

Yes, there was much to brag about at the next Tahoe Women’s Club meeting.

Several minutes passed before Jim touched her elbow. “Are you ready to go, hon?”

“Not quite yet.” Nola’s eyes were still glued to the road, in the direction where Tasha and Andre’s limo had long since disappeared. “Just one more minute.”

“I’ll go get the car then. You wait here.”

Nola barely noticed Jim leaving. Instead, she wanted to savor the feeling of accomplishment that’d washed over her today. Nothing in Nola’s life to come would ever top this.

Moments later, a man stepped up beside Nola, but she barely noticed him. She was too busy reveling in her good fortune. Nola would now be the envy of all she knew.

“Pardon me.” The friendly greeting came in the form of a foreign accent, British. Nola cut her eyes toward him.
He had his hands in his pockets, and he was rocking back and forth on his heels.
Most people wouldn’t know his suit was an Armani knockoff, but she knew. Nola Gordon knew her fashion. Oblivious of her insight, he shrugged and shook his head. “Valet must be backed up.”

Nola narrowed her eyes. A cool September breeze blew her hair in her face.

“Parking,” he said. “I noticed you’ve been standing here for a while now.”

“No.” Nola raked her hair back, away from her face. “My husband is bringing the car around. We were seeing my daughter off. She just left with her husband. They’re flying back to France tonight. That’s where they live.” Nola was all too happy to brag about Tasha’s fortunate situation.

“So your daughter lives in France, hey? Lovely country.” He tipped his head to one side.

“Yes,” Nola said. “Her husband is from there. We don’t get over there much, but I’m sure that now that they’re having a baby we will go over for an extended stay.”

“Oh, a baby. You don’t say.” He pulled a hand from one of his pockets and offered it to Nola. “Congratulations. But if you don’t mind my saying so…you don’t look old enough to be a grandmother.”

Nola felt a surge of blood rush to her cheeks. It’d been a long time since anyone—a man—had complimented her.

P
eter Wittmeyer thought he’d run up against a brick wall when he arrived in South Lake Tahoe, only to find out that Andre de Laurent and his American squeeze had just left. But then he had the good fortune of running into Tasha Gordon’s mother outside the Shoreline’s entrance.

That woman hadn’t been just a stream of information, she was a whole fountain. Thanks to her, he now knew that his clients’ worst fears had happened. Andre de Laurent had found himself a wife. And not only that, she was pregnant.

This wouldn’t bode well for Cecily Garceau Mason and her brother. It would, in fact, drive a stake through the heart of Cecily’s chances at disqualifying the de Laurent fellow from the will.

Peter had better make sure he received another payment from Ms. Mason before he turned over this new and damaging information.

CHAPTER TWELVE

THE FLIGHT TO FRANCE HAD BEEN AN UNEVENTFUL ONE. Tasha had slept on and off, but it had been restless sleep. When they arrived at the chateau, Andre insisted that Tasha take a short nap before dinner. This would give him time to talk to Papa and let him know about the surprise announcement he intended to make over dinner.

After seeing Tasha tucked into bed, Andre kissed her, turned the lights down and bid her adieu.

Expecting to find Papa in his study, Andre was a little more than surprised when he found the room empty. He traversed the hallways in search of his father, and the house seemed eerily quiet.

“Where is everyone?” he asked no one in particular as he approached the east salon—where he found Claudette.

Upon seeing him, Claudette smiled. She laid the book she was reading on the table at her side and pushed up from her chair. “Andre…” She pulled him to her, giving him a mother’s hug. “I’m so glad you’re back.” She put enough space between them to gaze upon his face. “Where’s Tasha? She is with you, right?”

“Yes.” Andre nodded. “She’s a bit tired from the trip. She’s resting before dinner.”

“Ah…wonderful.” Claudette stepped back. “I’ll have the arrangements for the wedding wrapped up early next week. Everything will go as planned next Saturday.”

“You are good.” Andre gave her small triumphant chuckle.

“Which, I presume, is why you turned to me.”

“Precisely.” Andre cleared his throat and looked around. “Where is Papa? I wanted to talk to him.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve already spoken to him. He will not divulge your secret.”

For a second, Andre wondered if he’d told Claudette about the baby, but remembered he hadn’t. She must be talking about the will’s stipulations. “Thank you.” Andre gave her a smile before backing out of the room. It was better that he continue to search for Papa himself. It wouldn’t pay for Claudette got a hold of the idea that Papa might learn a secret before she did.

“Andre…” She stepped out into the hallway after him. “Your father’s not here. He’ll be home in time for dinner.”

“Ah…” Andre nodded his head, trying to contain his disappointment. He wanted to tell Papa before he shared the news with the rest of the family. “I’ll catch up with him later.” Maybe he’d get a few minutes with Papa before dinner.

A
soft rapping on the door aroused Tasha from her slumber.
Damn
, she thought as she crawled out of her sleep-induced stupor. “Yes…” She started to sit up, made it half-way and decided it wasn’t worth it, and fell back into bed.

The door opened. Tasha hoped it was Andre, or maybe Camille. She couldn’t bear to face the barrage of questions from anyone else right now.

Camille’s soft voice said, “It’s me.” She stuck her head in the room. “Can I come in? Are you sleeping?” Her voice had risen with the last inquiry.

“No, just resting.” Tasha shrugged and shook her head. “Jet lag.” She waved Camille in. “You know how that is.”

Camille entered, shut the door behind her and hurried across the room. She bounced onto Tasha’s bed and the girls hugged.

Tasha moved over, giving Camille more room. “I love your hair.” Tasha checked out Camille’s new do, touching the ends of her blonde hair with her palm. The multi-layered ringlets bounced against Tasha’s hand. “I can’t believe how long it’s gotten.”

“I wasn’t too sure about it at first.” She shrugged. “I’m getting used to it now, though.” A wide smile spread across Camille’s face. “I’m so glad you’re here. For good.”

“Knowing you were here made it a lot easier to come, I’ll tell you that.” Tasha laughed, trying to disguise the fear that wouldn’t go away. “Maurice is a scary idea for a father-in-law.”

Both women laughed. Camille shook her head. “But he likes you.”

“He likes you too.”

“Now.” Camille added such emphasis to the word that Tasha couldn’t help noting its importance. “At least he won’t be throwing a better-suited, prospective bride at Andre.”

“It’s too late anyway.” Tasha smiled. “Andre and I got married before we left the States. The wedding here in France, for the family, takes place at the end of next week.”

“A wise decision.” Camille nodded. “Although not quite as necessary as it was for me.”

“Better safe than sorry, right?” Amusement played on the edge of Tasha’s voice.

Camille looked at Tasha for a long while before saying anything else. “Are you okay?” she asked. “You seem a little out of sorts.”

“That obvious, huh?” Tasha sucked in a deep breath.

“What’s going on?”

“Does no one, not even you, wonder why Andre and I, all of a sudden, decided to get married?”

“We married a couple of brothers who aren’t used to doing things the conventional way,” Camille said with a shrug.

“I’m pregnant.”

Camille’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

Tasha nodded.

“How far along are you?”

“A few weeks. A couple of months or so.”

“Wow.” Camille giggled like a schoolgirl.

“It’s not
that
funny.” Tasha’s voice grew serious. “I can hear it now. The big question for the next seven months will be…is it really Andre’s baby?”

“No.” Camille shook her head. “The big question will be…whose baby will be born first.”

Another baby? Someone else in the family was having a baby? Certainly not Claudette. Hopefully not Lecie. Camille? Hope sprouted on the edge of Tasha’s heart. “You’re pregnant?”

Camille nodded.

Tasha glanced at Camille’s tummy. Flat. She couldn’t be much farther along than Tasha.

“I’m due in early April,” Camille said.

“Me, too.” Tasha sat up in the bed and hugged Camille. “Congratulations.”

Camille hugged her back. “Right back at you.” She looked at Tasha. “But please don’t tell Andre. Julian wants to tell the family, tonight, at dinner.”

“I won’t say a word if you don’t,” Tasha bargained.

Camille nodded. “We’ll let our respective husbands have that pleasure.”

A
ndre hadn’t deluded himself that there wouldn’t be times when he’d feel guilty about hiding the terms of the will from Tasha. Especially times like this, when she reached for his hand as they were about to enter the dining room, where he knew she felt she’d face a barrage of questions from the family.

Telling Tasha the truth—that everyone wanted them to wed—would’ve rested her fears. But that could’ve led to a whole new set of problems, problems far worse than the temporary ones she faced now. Problems that could build a wedge between them that’d last forever.

Besides, Tasha’s doubts would disappear once she saw how excited everyone was about her joining the family. Better to let it play out this way. The alternative—telling her about the will requiring him to marry—would only add stress upon her that would linger, and linger, and linger. And that couldn’t be good for the baby.

Crossing the room’s threshold, Andre released Tasha’s hand and wrapped his arm around her, pulling her protectively close. Of course, there was nothing to protect her from—except the details of Edouard Renault’s will.

Claudette and Lecie were the first to their feet. Both women hovered around the couple. Each greeted Tasha with a friendly hug. Soon all three women were hugging and laughing, and Tasha looked like she was actually relaxing a little.

“Come sit by me.” Camille patted the empty chair to her left.

“Of course, she’ll sit by you.” Claudette led Tasha around the table and deposited her in the seat next to Camille.

Andre slid Tasha’s chair in, then sat in the empty one to her left. Settling in, he cut his eyes stealthily toward Papa, who was grinning. Andre suspected that Papa’s smile had a little something to do with him. After all, Andre had managed to secure this multi-billion dollar fortune—as long as he could hold on to his wife for the next three hundred and sixty-four days.

“Tasha…” Maurice spoke. “I can’t tell you how pleased I am to hear that you’re my new daughter-in-law.”

“Thank you, Maurice,” she said with a gentle smile. “I couldn’t have asked for a more loving family to marry into.”

That statement had more generosity than truth to it. But Andre knew that he, Julian and Lecie would—thanks, in part, to Claudette—break the cycle of
hands off
love that’d been handed down from generation to generation in the de Laurent family.

Once the staff brought in hot lentil soup, a wave of calm swooped down over Andre. Proper etiquette, which was always observed at Pacifique de Lumière, would steer the family toward eating and the conversation to nothing more than polite chit chat. That is, until after the main course. That’s when the mood relaxed around the table and if anyone had any announcements, then and only then was the time for disclosure.

Andre was glad when Tasha dipped her spoon into the soup, tasted it, then went back for more. She ate nearly half before pushing it aside.

When the next course was served, typically a garden salad of some sort, she was having none of it, which didn’t surprise Andre. She’d made it clear, more than once, that she hated any kind of lettuce.

But instead of complaining, Tasha sat quietly as Claudette and Lecie chatted about the plans they’d already arranged for the wedding coming up next week. Tasha listened, tilting her head their way every so often, as if the wedding being discussed was not hers but someone else’s.

Andre’s step-mother and his sister scarcely stopped to draw breath as the main course was served.

Tasha devoured the roast beef and au gratin potatoes, picked through the vegetables—mainly eating the yellow and green squash, leaving the peppers pushed to one side on her plate.

Every so often Camille would snag a pepper from the discarded food on Tasha’s plate. Normally, that would’ve drove Papa nuts, but now he hardly seemed to notice.

Andre glanced around the table checking everyone’s plate, examining how close they were to finishing. Funny, now that the time had come, he felt a measure of anxiety stirring in his abdomen.

He gave his stomach a gentle rub, wondering if Tasha was feeling okay. Andre had a great deal of anticipation building inside. He’d have to admit that he held a certain sense of perverse pleasure in knowing he’d gotten out of the gate before Julian—who’d been married an entire year.

Big brother was not going to like this. He wouldn’t take it lightly, being shown up by Andre. But he would have to live with it, and that made Andre chuckle a little, if only to himself.

Andre, so rapt in his thoughts, hadn’t really noticed Julian tossing his napkin onto his plate and pushing his chair back as he stood. Julian placed his hand on Camille’s shoulder, winked at her and then turned his attention to the rest of the family.