Chapter 3 - The Woman Who Knew Everything
Camille was at work the next morning.
Adrien knew she shouldn't have been.
He knew because the first thing she did after walking into his office was sneeze, glare at him as though he had caused it, and place his coffee precisely six inches from his right hand.
“You're sick.”
“Less sick.”
“Go home.”
“No.”
“Camille.”
“The Rotterdam team moved the negotiation.”
“I know.”
“You know because I moved it.”
Adrien stared at her.
Even half ill, she had reorganized his morning before arriving.
He hated how normal that felt.
He hated more that it would soon stop.
“You're taking Friday off.”
“I already am.”
“For Ardan House?”
“Yes.”
The name irritated him.
Not because he disliked it.
Because it represented a future in which Camille woke up and thought about something before she thought about him.
That realization disturbed him enough that he immediately rejected it.
His assistant was leaving.
That was all.
People left jobs.
People moved.
People changed.
Adrien Kovac did not unravel because an employee resigned.
Except Camille wasn't simply an employee.
He had spent most of the night discovering that.
At 2:13 a.m., he'd opened his calendar and searched backward.
Six years.
Camille was everywhere.
Every birthday he'd remembered.
Every flight he'd caught.
Every crisis he'd avoided.
Every reconciliation with his mother.
Every Christmas gift that had somehow been exactly right.
Camille.
He had gone to bed at four.
At nine, she appeared in his doorway.
“Your ten o'clock is waiting.”
“Cancel it.”
“No.”
He looked up.
“No?”
“You've rescheduled him twice.”
“Then reschedule him three times.”
“Why?”
“Because we're talking.”
“About?”
“Your resignation.”
She sighed.
“Adrien.”
“Sit.”
“I prefer standing.”
“Fine.”
She remained near the door.
He studied her.
“Why did Celeste know?”
Camille's expression became guarded.
“She saw the lease.”
“How?”
“She came here one evening while you were in London.”
“Why?”
Camille hesitated.
Adrien noticed.
“Why was my fiancée at my assistant's apartment?”
“She needed help.”
“With?”
“Something personal.”
His jaw tightened.
“Personal involving me?”
“Ask Celeste.”
“I am asking you.”
“And I'm telling you to ask Celeste.”
Six years.
Camille had protected other people's secrets from him before.
He had admired it.
Today it infuriated him.
“Fine.”
He stood.
“I'll ask her.”
“Good.”
He walked past Camille.
She followed.
“Where are you going?”
“To ask Celeste.”
“Now?”
“You suggested it.”
“I meant later.”
“I dislike waiting.”
“That is perhaps your least surprising character flaw.”
He stopped.
Camille nearly collided with him.
They stood too close.
Adrien looked down.
Camille looked up.
Something changed.
Neither moved.
Then the elevator opened.
Celeste stepped out.
She was elegant as always, dressed in cream and carrying a garment bag.
Her gaze moved between them.
“Well,” she said softly. “This looks inconvenient.”
Camille stepped back.
Adrien ignored the comment.
“Why were you at Camille's apartment?”
Celeste handed the garment bag to a receptionist.
“Good morning to you too.”
“Celeste.”
“Office. Both of you.”
Ten minutes later, Celeste sat opposite Adrien.
Camille refused the chair.
Adrien stood by the window.
“Explain.”
Celeste crossed her legs.
“I went to Camille because I needed advice.”
“About what?”
“Our wedding.”
Camille looked away.
Adrien noticed.
“What about it?”
Celeste smiled without humor.
“Whether we should have one.”
The room went silent.
Adrien's expression didn't change.
Camille's did.
“Celeste.”
“No. This has become absurd.”
Adrien stared at his fiancée.
“You wanted to cancel our wedding?”
“I wanted to know why I didn't care whether we canceled it.”
That was worse.
Celeste leaned forward.
“We've been engaged eleven months.”
“Yes.”
“In those eleven months, how many times have you called me because you missed me?”
Adrien said nothing.
“How many times have you rearranged your schedule because you wanted to see me?”
“Celeste—”
“How many times have you personally chosen anything for this wedding?”
“I approved everything.”
“You approved Camille's choices.”
Adrien glanced toward Camille.
She looked miserable.
Celeste continued.
“You didn't choose the flowers. Camille did. You didn't choose the menu. Camille narrowed it to three options. You didn't select the venue. Camille found it.”
“That's her job.”
“Yes.”
Celeste's eyes softened.
“And that's exactly the problem.”
Adrien's voice became cold.
“What problem?”
“You've built a life in which Camille knows what you want before you do.”
Camille spoke.
“This isn't fair.”
“To whom?”
“To Adrien.”
Celeste looked at her.
“Still protecting him.”
“I'm doing my job.”
“Exactly.”
Adrien felt something shift inside him.
“Enough.”
Both women looked at him.
He turned to Celeste.
“Do you want to marry me?”
Celeste's expression changed.
For the first time that morning, she looked frightened.
Not of him.
Of the answer.
“I wanted to.”
“That's not what I asked.”
“No.”
The word was quiet.
Clean.
Adrien didn't move.
Camille inhaled.
Celeste's eyes filled, but she didn't cry.
“I love you, Adrien.”
He looked at her.
“But not the way a woman should love the man she's about to marry.”
He swallowed.
“How long?”
“Months.”
“And you said nothing.”
“I tried.”
That phrase again.
Adrien almost laughed.
Apparently everyone in his life had tried to tell him something while he was busy.
Celeste continued.
“I thought it was nerves. Then I thought maybe marriage would fix whatever was missing.”
“What changed?”
Celeste glanced at Camille.
Camille immediately shook her head.
“Don't.”
Adrien saw it.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Camille.”
Celeste stood.
“I realized I was jealous.”
Adrien frowned.
“Of Camille?”
“No.”
Celeste looked directly at him.
“Of you.”
Silence.
Adrien didn't understand.
Celeste smiled sadly.
“I was jealous that you had someone who knew you that completely.”
She picked up her purse.
“And then I realized you didn't even know what you had.”
She walked toward the door.
Adrien remained still.
“Celeste.”
She turned.
“Are you ending our engagement?”
Her face softened.
“I think we both ended it a long time ago. We just forgot to say it.”
She left.
The door closed.
Adrien stared at it.
Camille stood behind him.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don't.”
She fell silent.
He turned toward the window.
For several minutes, neither spoke.
Then Camille approached.
“Go home.”
He almost smiled at the reversal.
“Is that an order?”
“Yes.”
“From my assistant?”
“From someone who knows you're about to pretend you have work so you don't have to feel anything.”
He looked at her.
That was Camille.
Seeing the thing he refused to see.
His phone buzzed.
Then hers did.
Then the office line began ringing.
Camille checked her screen.
Her face drained.
“What?”
She turned the phone toward him.
A photograph had been sent anonymously.
It showed Adrien entering Camille's apartment the previous night.
Below it was a message.
CONGRATULATIONS ON THE HAPPY COUPLE.
Adrien's expression hardened.
Camille whispered, “Someone followed you.”
Another message arrived.
This one contained a photograph of Camille's signed Ardan House lease.
May you like
And beneath it:
YOU SHOULD HAVE READ PAGE 286 BEFORE SHE TOOK IT AWAY.
