by Jane Peden
Maybe it was all an act. But what if it wasn’t?
“Hey.”
He jerked his head back and saw Olivia standing in the doorway to his office.
“I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“That’s all right.” He shrugged apologetically. “I was just…” Just what?
Olivia looked at him with what could only be described as glee. “No need to explain.” She walked over and hopped up on the corner of his desk and watched the photos dissolve one into the next. “You two look great together.”
“Well.” He shifted uncomfortably. Was it possible Olivia didn’t know their marriage was a sham? Or maybe she was just wishing for a happy ending. She’d certainly had enough sadness in her short life.
He pushed the thoughts aside.
“Olivia, what are you doing here? I asked my assistant to see that you got a ride home hours ago.”
“I know. I wanted to wait and ride home with you. Besides, I’ve been in the file room making copies of about five million trial exhibits and putting them in binders, and you know how you can lose track of time when you’re having so much fun.”
Was she serious? He gave her a look and she burst out laughing.
“All right, all right! I hate making copies and putting them in binders. But everybody has to start somewhere, right?”
“Come on,” Sam said, “let’s get out of here.” He felt a little guilty that he’d pretty much ignored her when he was the one who invited her to come into the office in the first place.
“You want to come to court with me next Thursday?” he said as they walked down the hallway toward the elevators. “It’s just a motion hearing, nothing terribly exciting, but—”
“Yes!” she screamed, jumping up and throwing her arms around him with such exuberance he almost lost his balance.
“Okay, then,” he said, setting her back down as the elevator doors opened. But he smiled all the way to the parking garage.
By the time they got back home and Olivia dashed up the stairs to figure out what she was going to wear when she went to court, Sam’s good mood had faded, replaced by a smoldering anger.
She was on the terrace when he poured himself a drink and stepped out through the French doors. It was what Olivia had told him in the car that had transformed his amused affection for his young sister-in-law to suppressed rage toward his wife.
Camilla started to get up from her chair when he stepped onto the terrace. The look he gave her wiped the smile right off her face.
“What’s the matter, Sam?” She took a quick look around him. “Is Olivia—”
“Olivia’s fine,” he snapped. “Though I’m surprised you’d think to ask.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Save the innocent looks, Camilla, because I’m not buying it.” He strode over to the railing and stared out onto the water for a few moments, then downed his drink and turned around to face her. He lowered his voice. He certainly didn’t want Olivia to overhear them. “Do you ever think of anyone except yourself?”
“If you don’t tell me what you’re talking about, I can’t answer whatever it is you think I’ve done.” She got up and walked slowly toward him, her words sounding calm and reasonable, but her eyes flashing with anger. “We’re not in a courtroom, Sam, but wouldn’t even a defendant get the chance to know what they’re accused of?”
“I mentioned on the way home that since Olivia seemed to be enjoying working at the office, she might want to continue to come by a few afternoons a week once school started.”
“Oh.”
“Yes. Oh.”
“Sam —”
“That’s when she politely thanked me, but said that would be a little difficult from her boarding school in upstate New York, but she’d be really happy to do it during the holidays. When she’s home from the boarding school she’s attended for the past four years.”
“Sam, you don’t under—”
“Oh, I understand perfectly, Camilla.” He gave a short, humorless laugh. “I know from personal experience just exactly what it means when a child is sent off to live at boarding school because no one wants him around. My mother found herself a rich new husband after my father deserted us. And she fell in very nicely with his plan to ship her young son off to boarding school so the two of them could enjoy their own time together.”
“Sam, I’m sorry. But it wasn’t like that with Olivia, if you’d just let me explain.”
“No, it wasn’t like that. It was worse.” He shook his head. “I knew you were an opportunist, Camilla,” he said, and watched the color drain from her face, “but I wouldn’t have believed even you would take a little girl who’d just lost her parents, who had by some miracle survived the accident that killed them both, and send her away from all that was left of the only family she’d ever known.”
“You idiot!” Camilla glanced toward the house and lowered her voice. “You don’t have a clue about anything. You must be a lousy lawyer if all you do is jump to conclusions when you know nothing about the facts.”
“An idiot? Yeah, I am an idiot. Because I was actually starting to think I’d been wrong about you. I know the facts, Camilla. Your own sister told me you sent her to boarding school. So this ‘idiot’ isn’t going to waste any time listening to your lies and justifications. You think it’s the first time I’ve come across a woman like you? Hell, I was raised by one. So I know you better than you think.”
She stood there, staring at him as if she were carved in stone, and said nothing. And he felt his heart freeze over completely. She’d probably ship JD off to a boarding kindergarten if such a thing existed. He was surprised she hadn’t already made a bid for a team of full-time nannies. The sooner he formally adopted his son and ejected Camilla from both their lives, the better.
He was even more angry because he’d felt himself softening toward her. There had been moments in the Keys when he’d actually been tempted to put aside everything she had done in the past and tell her they should try to build a real marriage, for JD’s sake if not their own. Times when he’d entertained the thought that the four of them—Camilla and JD and Olivia and him—could be a family. Times since they got back home when he’d kidded himself that something more than sex was growing between them. That they were somehow filling a need in each other that went beyond a simple physical release.
He spoke to her then as coldly as he’d ever addressed one of the defendants in his wrongful death cases.
“From now on you needn’t worry about me demanding that you sleep with me, Camilla. I have to have at least some respect for a woman I take into my bed. And I’m afraid that counts you out.”
Her cool voice followed him as he walked back into the house.
“That’s fine, Sam. Because this time, you’ve gone too far.”
Chapter Eleven
Camilla woke up alone in the wide expanse of bed the next morning. She didn’t know where Sam had slept the night before, but it hadn’t been with her. The sheets on his side of the bed were cool and smooth, in contrast to the tangled sheets and rumpled pillow she’d wrestled with during a fitful night.
At every turn, Sam found out some new piece of information and used it to think the worst of her. Did he bother to ask why Olivia had gone away to school? No, he just assumed Camilla hadn’t wanted her around when nothing could have been further from the truth. At first, it really hadn’t mattered what he thought, as long as he married her and kept the Winthrops from taking JD. But the more time he spent with JD and Olivia, the more comfortable he seemed to be in the role of father and big brother. Beneath the arrogant manner, there was a kindness in him she hadn’t expected and that she found very appealing. She’d hoped that once he saw how close the bond was between her and JD and Olivia, he’d stop judging her so harshly. The more she began to like and respect the person he’d become, the more it hurt that he seemed incapable of seeing the person she really was inside.
She looked at the clock on t
he nightstand and was surprised that it was already after 7:00 a.m. She’d gotten used to waking up when she heard Sam getting ready for work. She’d even slipped into the shower with him a few times. The thought of her own body, soapy and slick while those talented hands moved over her, touching and teasing, sent a quick shiver through her.
He could take cold showers from now on, as far as she was concerned. By himself.
She stepped into the shower herself, turned on the double jets, let the steamy water run over her, and tried to push away any thoughts of ever again sharing the intimate space with Sam.
She’d actually started to think there might be a connection building between them, not just physically but emotionally. They shared a child, and that was a strong bond. They didn’t love each other, but neither had she and Danny when they got married. With Danny, it had been a business proposition, pure and simple. The consummate playboy she’d known in college had become a bitter prisoner not only of his wheelchair, but of his controlling and disapproving parents. They’d cut him off from any serious money, and confined him to a reclusive life in their country estate, never missing an opportunity to remind him that his own reckless lifestyle and bad judgment were the reasons he ended up in this condition. An impulse to race a friend in his new Lamborghini had shattered his spinal cord—and his future—in a horrific clash of twisted metal, causing the damage to his lungs that eventually led to his death. He’d had the best possible care, and no freedom.
But he did have a very substantial trust fund. Complete control of which reverted to him automatically the day he turned thirty years old or married, whichever occurred first. At the age of twenty-three, the years until he turned thirty must have stretched ahead of him like an eternity.
So when Danny learned about the tragedy that struck Camilla’s family—and her futile efforts to raise the money for Olivia’s medical procedures and rehabilitation—he’d called her out of the blue and asked her to come see him.
She remembered the iron gates to his family estate swinging open, the long drive to the front door, the austere and hushed surroundings, and the antiseptic feel of the third-floor wing that had been converted to a suite suited more to an aging invalid than the cocky, daredevil playboy she’d known in college. She’d never dated him—his arrogance, his caustic wit, and his enormous ego had never appealed to her. But a few of her friends had been in the long line of flavor-of-the-month girls who had benefited from his lavish gifts, extravagant spending, and reputed prowess in bed.
The man who had greeted her from his wheelchair, dismissing with a wave of his hand the servant who had escorted her up in the elevator, seemed every bit as high-handed as the guy she’d known. But that was where the resemblance ended. His rakishly handsome face was etched with faint lines, his eyes seemed dulled from too many painkillers, his once-tanned complexion was sallow, and his athletic body was shrunken.
Then his eyes had met hers and she’d realized they weren’t dulled at all. The spark was still there.
He hadn’t bothered with pleasantries. He’d shifted forward slightly in his state-of-the-art wheelchair, leaning on his thin arms. “I understand you need cash, Camilla. A lot of it. Let me tell you what we’re going to do.”
And that had been that. Danny would have access to the money right after they were married. Olivia would get the best care available, and funds would be set aside in an irrevocable trust for her future, whatever the prognosis. Enough money to either pay for an Ivy League college or keep her in a long-term care facility for the rest of her life, he’d said bluntly.
In the end, there was no choice. Her sister had suffered massive head trauma, and had broken more bones than Camilla had thought a person could possibly break and still survive. She had internal injuries that were downright terrifying.
The doctors had put Olivia into a medically induced coma to reduce swelling in her brain and spare her unthinkable pain during the early stages of recovery. They told Camilla that it was nothing short of a miracle that she was still alive. Health insurance didn’t even make a dent in the projected costs, and whatever assets Camilla’s stepfather had left when he died had been frozen.
The only thing Camilla had balked at was Danny’s plan to send her off to some spa in Las Vegas while he made the arrangements. He wasn’t taking any chances that his parents would find a way to stop him, and had no intention of informing them until his marriage to Camilla was a done deal.
Camilla told him she couldn’t possible go away for two weeks. She was only able to see Olivia through a glass partition, but she spent as much time as she could at the hospital every day anyway. It didn’t matter that her sister didn’t know she was there. Livvy looked so much smaller than her ten years, surrounded by all those tubes and machines. Infection was a horrible risk. She would be kept in sedation until at least another month after the wedding. Camilla was emotionally and physically exhausted. Danny told her if she wore herself down any more and landed in the hospital herself, the deal was off.
If Camilla had disliked the playboy he was in college, she disliked the sarcastic, self-deprecatingly bitter person he’d become since his accident even more. Camilla Billington, straight-A student and all-around campus good girl, was the last person devil-may-care Danny would have spent an evening with, much less married in his former life. The new Danny made it clear he didn’t like her any better than before. So she shouldn’t get any fancy ideas about outlasting the prenup and staying his wife any longer than absolutely necessary. As if, she’d retorted, and he’d actually laughed, and she’d caught just a glimpse of the old Danny when he said, Darling, if I wanted to, I could make you fall in love with me.
Then he’d made some snide comment about how a couple weeks at the spa would do her good since all those sleepless nights worrying about Olivia had left her looking like crap. He expected a trophy wife on the arm of his wheelchair, he said with a smirk, and when she asked him why he didn’t just hire some bimbo to marry him, he said, Because you’re the most irritatingly honest girl I’ve ever met so I know I can trust you. Then he’d spoiled the moment again by adding, Besides, you have way too much at risk here to ever cross me.
And she got on a plane and headed for Vegas while Danny put together the wedding arrangements. He’d arrived by limo with a caregiver who looked more like a bodyguard, and they’d been married in a Las Vegas wedding chapel. A few phone calls, faxes, and FedEx packages later, and the lawyers and bankers had fallen neatly into line. Camilla Billington was now Camilla Winthrop, wife of the very wealthy Daniel Stanford Winthrop III.
Danny’s parents were outraged. Camilla was far beneath them in social standing, with a stepfather who was the disgrace of the financial community and a mother rumored to have been a former showgirl. But most importantly, they were no longer in control of their wayward son’s life.
They showed up as Danny was signing the lease to a sprawling penthouse overlooking New York City’s Central Park. The temperature dropped about ten degrees when they stepped into the foyer.
Danny’s mother spoke with a clenched jaw and never looked directly at Camilla. His father stood silent and stoic. You’ve proved your point, Daniel, she said. I’ll write this… young woman…a check if I must, but you will have this marriage annulled at once, or we wash our hands of you.
Danny flipped them off, told them to have a nice life, and shut the inner door to the penthouse in their face. Moments later Camilla heard the elevator chime.
It was the first time Camilla met her in-laws. The next and only other time she would ever see them would be at Danny’s funeral.
She and Danny had been two people, strangers really, brought together by desperation, their life as husband and wife an unfortunate by-product of the most expedient solution to both their problems. From such an inauspicious beginning, something absolutely wonderful had blossomed.
But she’d been a fool to think that lightning might strike twice.
Camilla stepped out of the shower, toweled herself dr
y, and prepared to face the day.
Somehow she and Sam had managed to barely speak to each other for most of the week, without either Olivia or JD appearing to notice. Of course, Olivia was all caught up in her work at Sam’s office and JD’s attention was focused on the plans for redecorating his room. A mural artist was supposed to come later that afternoon and begin turning his wall into a pirate’s paradise. His new furniture—including the pirate ship bed—was on standby to be delivered, and the installers were there at the moment putting in the wide plank flooring that approximated the wooden decking on a pirate ship.
Tonight, JD was planning to camp out in the master suite with her and Sam. She wondered how Sam would deal with that, since he’d spent every night this week working late in his study and falling asleep on the couch.
The day flew by as she and JD went from store to store, searching for anything pirate-themed. It would have been easier if she’d gone with Sam’s suggestion and hired an interior designer. But she thought it was more important to let JD take an active role in decorating his room. Sam had a lot to learn about the things that mattered to a little boy. Camilla smiled just thinking about JD’s excitement when they stumbled across a framed poster from a swashbuckling movie in the vintage memorabilia store, equaled only by his joy when he found another set of action figures to add to his collection. All these little trips and discoveries would go a long way toward making JD feel at home in his new room.
Even though her marriage would end in a year or so, JD would always be Sam’s son, and he’d be coming back to this house for visits. She wanted him to feel like he belonged, and she was determined not to let the angry emotions that always seemed to erupt between her and Sam spill over and affect JD’s relationship with his father. They got back home just after six, and she was surprised to see Sam’s car already in the driveway.
Sam was out on the terrace, grilling thick pieces of salmon. Olivia was in the kitchen, getting out plates and silverware to take onto the terrace. A container of potato salad sat on the counter, and there were ears of corn cooking on a huge pot on the stove. There was a large box with the name of her favorite local pastry company on the counter as well.
