The Millionaire's Unexpected Proposal (Entangled Indulgence) (7 page)

Chapter Seven

If she hadn’t been so nervous, Camilla might actually have enjoyed the trip to the Florida Keys on the sleek yacht owned by Sam and his partners. She was no stranger to luxury, but neither her father nor her stepfather had been flashy in his taste.

Her memories of her father were from when she was very young, lying on her stomach on the faded Oriental rug in his private library with her coloring book and the crayons she was very, very careful not to squish into the rug, while he read in a huge upholstered armchair. When she tired of coloring, sometimes she would crawl into his lap and he would read to her from books she was too young to understand, and she would fall asleep with her head against his shoulder, smelling the faint scent of peppermints and cigar smoke that still, to this day, evoked a sense of quiet contentment. Even standing at the rail of the boat, with the spray of salty water touching her face and the hot Florida sun warming her despite the breeze, she could still close her eyes and see him sitting in that chair, hear the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner, in time to the slow sweep of its pendulum.

But when she was six, her father died of a heart attack. Then came the year Camilla preferred not to remember, ever. Her mother had always been prone to mood swings. But that year she had seemed to disappear inside herself, spending most of the time in her dimly lit bedroom, forgetting to eat and leaving Camilla to fend for herself. Sometimes her mother slept for days, until Camilla was convinced she would simply never wake up again. Finally, she was hospitalized, and Camilla was handed off to a succession of friends and relatives she barely knew.

Then her mother rebounded in a series of relationships with a succession of wealthy men and a whirlwind of European holidays and fancy hotels, not to mention a memorable year when they’d lived in a restored palazzo in Abruzzo, Italy, with a brilliant but temperamental artist. Finally, stability had returned when, after a chance meeting at an art auction, her mother married financier Frederick Billington.

At her mother’s insistence, Camilla had taken his name. She couldn’t say she’d ever felt anything stronger than a mild sort of affection for him, but neither had he shown any particular love for her. They circled each other like polite strangers, united only in their unspoken agreement to protect Camilla’s mother from the anxiety attacks that would occasionally incapacitate her for a week at a time.

Otherwise, Camilla was mostly left to her own devices while her mother and stepfather entertained and traveled whenever his business required, which was quite often. She’d spent her early adolescence feeling like she was just going through the motions, putting in time until her real life would begin.

Then the miracle happened. Olivia was born, and Camilla’s heart swelled with so much emotion for her tiny half sister that she thought she would burst.

What’s more, Frederick, who considered his wife a trophy and his stepdaughter a mild inconvenience, discovered there actually was someone in the world whom he loved more than himself. And as Olivia grew, her laughter and the sheer joy of her filled up their lives and transformed them into a family. Which is why Camilla knew with absolute certainty that no matter how desperate Frederick Billington had been, no matter if the press was snapping at his heels, if his investors were threatening lawsuits and the Feds hovering on the verge of criminal indictments, he would never have intentionally caused the accident that took his own life and the life of Camilla’s mother. For the simple reason that Olivia had also been in the car.

She heard Olivia laughing now and saw her pointing with JD at a group of teenagers on a speedboat, pulling a boy on a wakeboard behind them.

Olivia had grown up snowboarding, and was no doubt anxious to test her theory that those skills easily translated to the water.

Within days Camilla would be married to Sam. What was worrying her, though, was how she was going to explain to a four-year-old who’d just lost the only father he’d ever known that his mother was about to get married again, to a man JD had met only a few weeks ago.

…

The events coordinator was gushing. Her attitude, Sam noted, had taken an abrupt turn from her initially curt reaction to the impromptu wedding once he pulled out his shiny black credit card and told her price was no object.

They were sitting in her small office finalizing the details when he saw Camilla headed across the lobby. She spotted him and homed in, striding determinedly toward him and looking none too happy.

“There you are, darling,” Sam said. “Mrs. Donnelly, I’d like you to meet my fiancée, Camilla.”

“Oh, call me Margot, dear,” she said, then turned her gaze back again to Camilla’s left hand. “May I?”

Camilla blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“Your ring, sweetheart,” Sam said. “I believe Margot would like a closer look.”

“Oh, Ms. Winthrop.” Margot all but cooed as she came around the desk and took Camilla’s hand. “How absolutely lovely. Please sit down, we were just finishing going over the plans for your special day, but I’m sure you want to be involved in every detail.”

Camilla was holding her hand out with barely controlled civility, while the eyes locked on his were flashing with anger. Was she that offended that he’d left the ring box on her bedside table that morning, with a note telling her that he expected to see it—and no other ring—on her finger? Considering the price he’d paid the jeweler in Miami last week for the large square-cut pink diamond flanked by two white diamonds, she could at least appreciate the fact that he’d bought her a decent ring. His marriage may be a farce, but he’d be damned if she was going to walk down the aisle to him still wearing another man’s ring.

“So,” Margot bubbled. “Shall we review the decisions…ah, recommendations…Mr. Flanagan and I were just discussing?”

“What? No.” Camilla answered without turning her head away from Sam. “I’m sure whatever the two of you have come up with will be just fine. Just lovely,” she amended.

“Camilla loves surprises,” Sam explained, and Margot’s puzzled look softened.

“Well, then, that’s fine. I know you two must be so excited about your big day. Eloping.” She sighed. “It’s so romantic.”

The look his future bride was giving Sam was anything but romantic.

“Camilla,” he said, in the sweetest tone he could manage. “I think all the excitement is wearing you out. Why don’t you go have something to drink on the terrace, and I’ll join you as soon as Margot and I are done.”

“I can wait,” Camilla said.

“We can handle the details later,” Margot said, shooing them with her hand. “You two run along and just leave everything to me. I can tell you’re anxious to have a little time alone together.”

“I certainly am,” Camilla said.

“Thank you, Margot,” Sam said. “We could never have pulled all this together without your expertise.”

Margot preened. “It’s all part of the service we provide.”

As they left the office doorway she called after them. “Don’t forget the fitting at two o’clock!”

Camilla turned back slowly. “The fitting?”

“Margot has kindly arranged to have a number of wedding dresses delivered to our suite this afternoon for you to make a selection.”

“Yes,” Margot said. “And there will be a seamstress there so she can immediately start making adjustments. Now that I’ve had the chance to meet you, I can see your fiancé was right—you’re a perfect size 4, aren’t you?”

“You know my dress size?” Camilla said, looking at Sam.

“Darling, there’s nothing I don’t know about you,” he said, careful to keep the edge out of his voice, not that Margot would have noticed anyway.

“You’re so lucky, dear,” Margot said, “to have a man who knows you so well.”

“Yes, aren’t I?”

“Too-da-loo now! And don’t hesitate to just pick up the phone in your room and dial six if you think of
anything
else you’ll need.”

Sam steered Camilla toward the terrace while Margot beamed after them.

“Would you mind not holding my arm so tightly?” Camilla hissed.

“Would you mind trying to look a little more pleased to have my hands on you? We’re about to become newlyweds, you know.” He turned, and still in Margot’s direct line of vision, pulled Camilla against him and kissed her. It was the first time he’d touched her since that night in the limo, and he brushed his lips lightly over hers and felt a perverse satisfaction when he felt her tremble.

“Nice to see I still have this effect on you, darling, even when you’re angry.”

“It’s the anger that’s making me tremble, not your clumsy attempts at seduction,” she said.

She looked surprised when he burst out laughing. Damned if he didn’t want to haul her up to their suite and take her to bed right now.

He settled for whispering in her ear. “Maybe your memory has faded from Las Vegas. But I’ll have plenty of time to remind you on our wedding night.”

She actually blushed, but she looked even more furious. They went through the French doors onto the terrace and she waited, staring down at the ring on her hand until the waiter had taken their order.

She looked up then. “How could you?”

“What, you wanted to pick out your own ring?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Since I’ll be giving it back to you in a year, it hardly matters.”

He waited while she fumed.

“You know very well the
ring
isn’t what I’m upset about.”

“Humor me.”

“Fine.” She lowered her voice. “I’m talking about that little walk you took on the beach with JD this morning. While I was sleeping.”

Of course. He’d been a bit angry himself when he discovered she hadn’t even told the boy about the wedding yet. Had she planned on waiting until she walked down the aisle?

He said as much to her, and she had the good graces to at least look uncomfortable.

“I just hadn’t found the right time yet. I was going to tell him later today.”

“Right.”

He’d stopped by the suite of rooms she was sharing with Olivia and JD, intending to give her the ring in person, and found the child playing quietly in the sitting area. JD had solemnly informed him that he was allowed to get out of bed and play with his toys before Mommy got up, as long as he was very, very quiet and never, ever opened the door to the hallway. Sam had been about to leave and head out for his morning run along the beach when he’d had the sudden urge to invite JD to go with him.

So they’d left a note for Camilla and weighted it down with the “little box” before heading down to the beach.

Sam had thought JD was a quiet child, but suddenly found that he couldn’t stop talking. But when they were looking through shells, and Sam asked him what he thought about them all becoming a family, JD had looked up at him, puzzled.

“Don’t you know about your mom and me getting married?” Sam had asked, shocked that Camilla apparently hadn’t told JD
anything
.

JD dug at the sand with his toe and shook his head, suddenly quiet.

Sam had knelt down, brushed the hair back from the boy’s forehead, and looked into those bright blue eyes, wide and innocent, the way Camilla’s must have been as a young girl, before that innocence was corrupted by a social climbing mother and a criminal stepfather. Things would be different for his son.

“Your mom and I are getting married,” he repeated. “Do you understand what that means, JD?”

The little boy looked up then. “That you’re my new daddy?” He bit his lower lip, frowning.

Sam was about to tell him yes. He wanted to start out the relationship by being honest. Then he remembered what it had felt like when, at age nine, a stepfather had suddenly been thrust into his own life.

“JD,” Sam said, and waited until the child focused his attention. “You already have a daddy, but he’s up in heaven and can’t do stuff with you, right?”

JD nodded.

“So what if you had a second daddy? One down here on Earth, who could take you to baseball games, and…and look for cool stuff on the beach.”

“Have two daddies?”

“That’s right.”

The child had considered, and Sam caught himself holding his breath. Ridiculous that this moment should mean so much. He had plenty of time to get to know his son, to win him over like a reluctant juror. But somehow this moment did matter. A lot.

Then JD had slipped his tiny hand in Sam’s large one, and said, “Okay, Sam. You can be my down-here daddy.”

The power of the waves crashing onto the shore had been nothing compared to the sudden swell of pride and protectiveness that had pushed unexpectedly into Sam’s heart.

As the waiter delivered their drinks and Camilla still sat there, anger emanating from her like a radioactive missile, Sam felt his own annoyance grow.

“You want to tell me why you are so worked up about me talking to my own son?”

“You had no right to tell him about the wedding. You should have discussed it with me first.”

“Oh, the way you’ve discussed everything with me for the last four years?” He leaned toward her. “Things have changed, Camilla, and you might as well get used to it. You don’t make all the decisions about JD anymore.”

“I’m his mother. I know how to talk to him about something like this without upsetting him.”

Sam leaned back. “Did he seem upset when I brought him back?”

“No,” she admitted, “he wasn’t upset.” She paused, then added, seemingly reluctantly, “I can see how much he likes you already, Sam. You’re good with him. Better than I expected.”

Well, at least that was something. Maybe Camilla was starting to realize that what mattered most to him was having the chance to be a real father to JD.