The Marriage Bargain by Sandra Edwards Page A

and rose gardens.
    Camille had caught him off guard when she said something about him having children. That’d never crossed his mind, much less the notion to settle down with just one woman. Least of all Madeleine.
    What was wrong with Madeleine? She was pretty enough. She’d been conditioned for the part since childhood. She was educated, polished, and personable. But Julian felt nothing when he looked at her. No spark.
    That’s why his decision to formulate this orchestrated marriage was the right thing to do. It’d save Madeleine some grief, his sanity, and a ton of money in the long run.
    Julian drained his glass and moved back to the bar. He poured another drink as a passageway door opened. A different one than he’d used.
    Andre. Julian found it ironic that his younger brother by three years had outgrown him by a couple of inches.
    Approaching Julian, Andre laughed. “Well, big brother,” he said, reaching for a bottle of bourbon and a glass. “You do have the market cornered on the shock factor.”
    “What do you mean by that?” Julian poured the drink into his mouth, savoring the whiskey’s cool bite.
    “You and father have an argument. The worst I’ve seen yet.” Andre studied Julian and took another drink of his liquid courage. “He wants an heir. And since you’re the oldest, he expects you to give him one.”
    “What’s your point?”
    “So you do what you do best,” he said, his tone growing bitter, less tolerant. “You disappear. Then, mysteriously, you return a week later with an American fiancée.”
    “Again. What’s your point, baby brother?”
    “Are we really expected to believe this is real?”
    “You think I’d marry someone if it wasn’t?” Julian asked.
    “You? Sure.”
    “If that were the case, it might as well be Madeleine.”
    “Anything not to marry Madeleine.” Andre reflected with grim amusement. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
    “What’s that supposed to mean?” Somewhere deep down inside, Julian hoped his brother understood.
    “How well do you know this girl? How do you know she’s not—”
    “I’ve known her since last year, Andre. And make no mistake—” Julian waved a finger in Andre’s face. “—be very careful what you say about my wife.”
    “Your wife?” Andre gave him a sideways glance of utter disbelief.
    “Yes.” Julian sat the glass down and slid his hands inside his pockets. “Between you and me, Camille and I are already married.”
    “Married?”
    “Married.”
    Andre gave him a dismissive gesture. “You know Papa’s going to be furious. And he’s going to want a French wedding.”
    “Well, he can be pushy.” Julian was casually amused. “He won’t believe it’s real unless he witnesses it for himself.” He laughed to hide his discomfort over Papa’s control.
    Andre shook his head. “Man, I hope you don’t end up regretting this.”
    “There are no regrets.”
    “You just up and got married? I can hardly believe that.” Andre stroked his chin and studied Julian. “Pre-nup?”
    “Yes. We have a pre-nup.” Sarcasm crept into Julian’s voice. “I know what you’re thinking, but you’re mistaken.”
    Andre couldn’t be more wrong. Julian knew exactly what he was getting with Camille and how much it was going to cost him. Five million dollars.
    “For your sake, big brother, I hope you’re right.” Andre smirked and poured himself another drink. “I certainly don’t want her dipping into my children’s inheritances.”
    “You don’t have any children.”
    “Not yet. No.” Andre paused, sipping his bourbon. “But someday I think I might. And I don’t want your gold-digging wife stealing from them.”
    Rage almost choked Julian. Curses fell from his mouth as he grabbed his brother’s lapels and slammed him against the wall. He didn’t care whether he hurt Andre or not. Nor would he tolerate trash talk about Camille. He’d take that from no one.
    “Julian...!” Andre’s voice