Kissed Blind (Hot Pursuit #2)(85)

Camille’s fingertips turned white as she squeezed the flute tighter. “No. We’ve earned this place where we are. I’m not going to let you kill us.”

“What? Like you k—”

“Shut up.”

He didn’t dare finish the statement with the look she gave him. “Either agree to sign the papers, or when I stand up to give my commencement speech about my lovely, successful wife, everyone will learn the little dark secret she holds so tightly to her chest.”

“You wouldn’t. You promised me.” Her words escaped through clenched teeth.

“I think we broke our promises to each other a long time ago. This can go away. People split up all the time. We can do this peacefully and go our separate ways. Read the papers and give me what I want, I’m not being unreasonable.”

“And you won’t be the least bit embarrassed that Hollywood’s royal couple is splitting up, the shame of it all?”

He shrugged. “Like I said, it can be peaceful, or it can’t. The choice is yours.”

Camille held her champagne close to her eyes and stared at the thin line of bubbles streaming up her glass. She put it to her lips and tossed the entire contents down her throat. She set the glass down on a passing waiter’s tray and grabbed another before walking off. I looked at Vance and began after her.

“Diana,” Oliver called. “Let her go. She needs a moment.”

I nodded and went back to my post.

Oliver headed over to some nearby actors and slapped one on the back as he said his hello. I glanced at Vance and would have loved to discuss what we’d just witnessed, but he shook his head ever so slightly. He was right, now wasn’t the time.

Nearly an hour had passed before Camille resurfaced. She entered the room with two drinks in her hand, a short tumbler of amber liquid and another flute of champagne. She walked up behind Oliver and tapped his shoulder. She whispered in his ear, and he excused himself from the conversation.

Camille handed Oliver the amber liquid.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“I had it brought in especially for you. Smell it and you’ll know.”

He put the glass to his nose. “Is this?”

“Blanton’s Gold, your favorite.” She watched him as he swirled the liquid around in his glass. “And a peace offering.”

He took a sip and savored it. “Camille…”

“I don’t want this to end, but it seems I have no choice. We’ll get through this night, and I’ll have my attorney look over the papers. But I’m asking a favor first.”

He tilted his head. “What?”

“Tonight, give me tonight. It’s a celebration, so let me have this one last thing. No talk of any of this, or anything else. Agreed?”

He took another sip. “You’re sure?”

“Of course I’m not sure.” Her voice cracked as she spoke, and she cleared her throat.

He was silent for a beat. “Okay, I’ll give you tonight.”

“And your speech?”

“Say no more. You’ll love it.”

She raised her glass. “Cheers to us and our last great show. Bottoms up.”

She drank her champagne, and Oliver downed the bourbon in his glass. He closed his eyes and pressed his lips together.

“My God, that’s so good,” he said, exhaling through rounded lips and closed eyes.

She took the tumbler from his fingers. “Dinner is about to start, and they’ll be asking you to step up and give your speech in a few. You should get backstage soon. I’ll meet you at our seats and get you another one of these. I need to powder my nose.”

He stopped her before she was able to walk away and whispered something into her ear that evoked an odd expression. Her lips were smiling, but her eyes said something else, and then they went their separate ways.



. . .



Vance stepped up behind me and glanced down at his watch. “Cici is backstage and I’m supposed to be up there when Oliver goes out.”

“Right. I’ll be in the front of the room with eyes on their table.”

“Good.”

Vance left to take his position. At least we’d advanced to saying short sentences to each other. The emcee for the evening took center stage. Based on the round of applause she got, she was someone important in Hollywood, but I didn’t recognize her. She began with a brief opening statement and encouraged people to take their seats. After a short introduction, the lights dimmed, and Oliver joined her at the podium. Behind him, a white screen dropped, and an image of Camille was displayed.

Oliver coughed and placed a hand over his stomach. He retrieved his pocket square and wiped a line of sweat from his brow. “Good evening, everyone…” he said. His speech began with nice sentiment after nice sentiment. He cited Camille’s accomplishments over the years but halted where her story began. My breath hitched, and I thought for a moment Oliver was going to renege on his promise, but then he wobbled and caught himself on the podium. Behind him, Camille’s photograph in character from Acts of Desperation was displayed. He stood upright and made a joke about having too many cocktails on an empty stomach. Moments later, he collapsed.

“Oliver!” Camille shouted, lifting from her seat. She looked from side to side and charged the stage with her dress bunched in her hands. A camera followed her, and the crowd was a flurry of hushed murmurs. Chaos erupted.