Billionaire Games Boxed Set 1-3 (36 page)

“Is that normal?” Andre asked, beginning to fear for Tasha’s health.

“It’s not common.” Dr. Ainsworth shrugged. “But it’s not unheard of.”

“What’s next?” Andre asked.

“Tasha needs to be admitted to hospital for a D&C.”

“He’s wrong. He has to be wrong.” Agitation raked over Tasha voice. She looked at Andre with pained eyes. “Our baby can’t be dead.”

When Andre didn’t confirm her pleas, she lowered her head and rested her chin upon her chest.

Tasha began to whimper.

Andre leaned over her, wrapping his arms around her. Intense sobs wrenched Tasha’s body. She fought him, bashing her fists about his chest and shoulders. Andre tightened his embrace.

His wife had just lost the only thing she’d ever wanted. If it helped her to hit him, then so be it. But sooner or later, Andre had to find a way to help Tasha get past the pain of losing their first child. He knew she’d never get over it, but for her sake she had to get past it. And there was only one way that he could think of that might help. With his arms still around Tasha, Andre looked to the doctor, “Can we have more children?”

“We’ll know more after the procedure.” Dr. Ainsworth’s words shot through Andre like sharp shards of ice.

If Tasha could never have a child, how would she get past that? How would Andre?

A
fter the procedure, the doctors had told Tasha she could have more children.

But Tasha wanted
this
baby.

She felt more than
empty
. There was a hole in her heart that no amount of cordial words from well-meaning family and friends could cure.

Thank God, Andre had taken her back to the house in St. Tropez for several weeks before they made the trip back home to Marseilles.

Tasha had needed the time to pull herself together, to prepare herself for when she came face to face with Camille and her by now, bulging belly.

While, to be honest, Tasha was a bit jealous that Camille’s pregnancy was a viable one, but she was also happy for her friend’s good fortune. If anybody deserved some happiness, it was Camille.

Andre had been a wonderfully supportive husband during the hospital stay and the following weeks, staying attentively by Tasha’s side at all times. They’d cried together, more than once, but mostly, they simply held on to each other in silence.

On the eve before their scheduled return to Marseilles, as they were lounging on the same terrace where Tasha had received Camille’s phone call—the same phone call that had changed their lives forever—Tasha lifted her head and looked up at Andre.

“What is it, mon trésor?” He smiled. “Is there something I can get for you?”

“You’re too good to me.” Tasha rested her head back on his chest.

“Well, you are my wife.”

She looked up at him again. “You sure you’re not regretting that move, considering the outcome with the baby and all?”

Andre shook his head. “I have but one regret.”

Tasha’s chest felt heavy. “What’s that?” she asked, even though she wasn’t sure she wanted an answer.

“That I didn’t marry you months ago.” Andre winked.

Tasha wanted to let out a breath of relief, but experience had taught her to be cautious. “You mean it?”

Andre nodded, saying, “I mean it.” He paused for a moment, studying her face intently. “And you? You’re not thinking of returning to California, are you?”

That almost brought a laugh. Almost. “No, California is the last place I want to be…unless you’re there.”

“Listen, you and I, we’re going to have a wonderful life together. I’ll make sure of that. We may or may not have children, but Lord knows we’re going to try.” His laughter became infectious, soliciting a chuckle from Tasha. “But I promise you, I’ll make sure you never regret marrying me.”

“I can well believe that,” Tasha said. “And I can promise that I’ll always try to be the wife you deserve.”

“After we return to Marseilles, would you like to go on that cruise I promised you?” Andre asked. “Or do you prefer to rest and regroup at home?”

“You know what I’d really like to do?” Tasha’s tone turned serious. “Do you think we could put some kind of memorial in one of the gardens for our little angel? I realize we don’t know if it was a boy or a girl…” Her words trailed off with her need to cry. She didn’t want to cry any more. But she didn’t want to forget her baby, either. She’d been thinking about a memorial stone or something along those lines for a while now.

“I think that’s a fine idea.” Andre snuggled Tasha closer. “It will be my top priority once we return home.”

I
nside the limo rolling up the winding roadway toward Pacifique de Lumière, butterflies began to stir in Tasha’s stomach. She was thankful that she had something to look forward to—memorializing her baby—but she wasn’t sure how she was going react when she saw Camille, who was still pregnant.

Tasha’s best friend turned sister-in-law had to have a noticeable baby bump by now. The calendar had recently turned to November. Thanksgiving was right around the corner. However, the French didn’t celebrate the American holiday. That was okay with Tasha. She had nothing to celebrate.

Knowing full well how far along Camille was, Tasha quietly counted the months on her fingertips anyway. Four months. Camille was in her fourth month. By now, she must have a baby bump.

As the car approached the house, Tasha held her breath and touched her own now-empty belly.
Please
, she prayed,
let me be happy for Camille
.

Everyone was there, waiting in the covered archway. Claudette, Maurice and Lecie formed the front line. Julian and Camille were standing behind the others, making it hard to see Camille’s tummy.

The car rolled to a stop and one of the servants stepped up to open the door. Tasha blew out the breath she’d been holding.

Andre scrambled from the car, then offered his hand to Tasha. She let him pull her from the vehicle, and once outside, she passed around a gentle smile to the family’s front line.

Claudette was the first to approach her. “We’re so sorry, dear,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around Tasha.

Maurice gave her a sad smile and then kissed her cheek. A heartfelt display for a man such as Maurice.

Lecie had tears in her eyes. She latched on to Tasha, saying nothing. Just crying. A sure-fire way to let loose Tasha’s own tears. She’d been crying for so long now that it was a wonder she had any tears left.

Julian pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and pulled Tasha away from Lecie’s grasp. “My, dear…” he said, blotting her tears. “If I could fix this, you know I would. It pangs me to say it, but there are some things that even I can’t control.” Julian gave her a playful nudge. “If it helps…please feel free to hit me.”

A bit of a chuckle fell from Tasha’s lips and trailed off, smothered by her grief.

“Take him up on it,” Andre urged. “Never miss an opportunity to slap my brother around.”

Camille pulled Tasha into her arms. Her very noticeable baby bump pressed against Tasha. Jealousy jumped up into Tasha’s throat, but she managed to banish it with a hard swallow.

Tasha touched Camille’s tummy, but couldn’t tell if the fluttering was her imagination or the baby actually kicking.

Do they kick this early?
Tasha hadn’t a clue. Suddenly, she couldn’t wait to feel the feisty kick of Camille’s baby as it grew closer to the due date. She hoped Camille would include her in all her upcoming plans where the baby was concerned.

“Do we know if it’s a boy or a girl?” Tasha lifted her gaze from Camille’s tummy up to her eyes.

“No.” Camille shook her head. “I asked the doctor not to tell me. I want it to be a surprise.”

Tasha looked at Julian. “I’ll bet you know what it is, don’t you?”

A chorus of laughter rippled across the archway. Andre poked a finger at his brother. “My wife has your number.”

Julian grinned and nodded his head sheepishly. “There’s nothing wrong with keeping a secret or two from your wife…hey, brother?”

Before Tasha could object or inquire about Julian’s statement, Camille had latched on to her hand, dragged her up the grand entryway, into and through the house. She didn’t stop until they were outside again in the west gardens.

“Shouldn’t you slow down a bit?” Tasha glanced around the patio furniture and claimed the nearest chair. “You really should take it easy.”

“We have so much to catch up on.” Camille sat in the chair kitty-cornered from Tasha. “And I thought you might like a little privacy.”

“What I’d really like is to know what Julian was talking about back there.” Tasha crossed her legs. “What’d he mean about
secrets
?”

Camille gave a dismissive wave. “Oh, you know Julian.” She giggled and shook her head. “He never likes to be put in his place by anyone, especially his younger brother. I wouldn’t worry about it. It’s just Julian being Julian.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

SOMETIMES, CAMILLE COULD JUST wring her husband’s neck. She planned to give him a proper scolding later. These days, she could get away with it. Once she had the baby, she had a feeling it’d be back to business as usual. Julian de Laurent was capable of arguing every waking minute of his day. Camille suspected that he sometimes got his way because people got tired of listening to him.

But right now she had Tasha to contend with. From here on out, she’d have to choose her words carefully. Not that she’d ever out-and-out lie to Tasha, but nothing good could come from Tasha finding out about the exact details of Edouard Renault’s will. Knowing Tasha, her pride would get in the way and she’d up and leave.

At that moment, Camille vowed to never let Julian place those kinds of stipulations on her child in order to inherit any part of the de Laurent fortune.

The door opened behind them. Camille glanced over her shoulder. Monique had poked her head in. “Ms. Camille. Your appointment is waiting in the west salon.”

“Very good.” Camille nodded. “I’ll be right there.”

Monique disappeared and the door closed.

“Appointment?” Tasha asked. “It’s not about the baby, is it? Because, you know, I want to help you with the nursery and all.”

Camille shook her head. “I wouldn’t dream of decorating the nursery without your input. But this isn’t about the nursery exactly.”

“Then what, pray tell?”

“Julian is insisting that we hire a nanny.” Camille stood. “I agreed, under one condition. I get to hire her.”

Tasha grinned and snorted a devilish laugh. “Yeah. Make sure she knows who’s boss.”

“My goal precisely.” Camille headed for the door but stopped and glanced over her shoulder. “You feel like going in to town with me tomorrow? I want to look at wall paper and furniture for the nursery.”

“Sure.” Tasha smiled and nodded.

“Great. It’ll be much more fun if you’re there.”

Camille went back inside the house and traversed the halls until she reached the salon where her applicant was waiting. She opened the door and stepped inside. The woman sitting on the couch looked to be in her mid-forties. Good. Camille wanted someone mature. Someone who was more settled, patient and attentive. Some of the younger girls Camille had interviewed had the attention span of a gnat. She could see them now, walking around in a daze, wondering, “
now where’d I put that baby?
”

As Camille approached her, the woman stood and pulled a single piece of paper from her attaché. “Mrs. de Laurent, I’m so pleased to meet you.” She offered the paper, her resume, to Camille.

“Likewise. Thank you.” Camille took the resume. “Please, have a seat.” She gestured to the couch where the woman had been sitting. The woman reclaimed her seat while Camille sat in a nearby chair and began perusing the resume.

Cecily Mason
. The name sounded a bit on the familiar side, but after a second or two of not being able to place it, Camille chalked it up to déjà vu.
And she’s a nurse
. Now that had to be good. Camille liked the idea of having a nurse at her disposal.

Camille lifted her gaze from the resume and settled it on the applicant. “Cecily. May I call you Cecily?” She waited for the woman’s response, a nod, before she continued. “What is your area of practice in the nursing field?”

“I’ve spent the last twenty years at one hospital or another in Avignon. Mostly in the pediatric ward and the newborn nursery.” She fingered the satchel in her lap, but kept her eyes on Camille. “I do so enjoy the children.”

“So you’re presently employed at a hospital?” Camille glanced down at the resume and nodded, seeing the word
Hospitalier
. She looked back at Cecily. “You’re okay with leaving the hospital?”

“Only if I find something in private service.” She paused a moment, perhaps to catch her breath. “I’ve put in enough service at the hospital to retire. I wouldn’t mind taking care of a child or two in a private setting.” She shrugged. “It would slow the pace a bit, which I wouldn’t find unpleasant. Might be nice for a change.”

“I can see how working as a private nanny could feel like a vacation for someone with your background.”

They chattered and talked for a long time more. All the while, Camille grilled Cecily but with the utmost respect, never once making her feel as if she was being judged. Instead, to get a feel for her capabilities, Camille asked her about her work experiences with the children over the years. Above all else, Camille needed to feel like Cecily would be supportive to her and attentive to her baby’s needs, and would never, ever mistreat the child when she wasn’t around.

Cecily had done a fair job of setting Camille’s mind at ease after a near forty-minute discussion.

“Well…” Camille clapped her hands together. “I think my curiosity is just about satisfied. Is there anything you’d like to ask me?”

“Are you expecting a live-in nanny?”

“Of sorts, yes. We’re looking for someone to mainly be on-call during the day and an occasional evening here and there. So you would need to live nearby. We have a caretaker’s cottage on the estate that we’d prefer the nanny and her family to live in. We’d guarantee that you’d have most weekends off and at least four evenings, probably more, most weeks.”