Page 37 of Meet Me at Sunset

They’d exchanged a few words after Camille’s speech, but the conversation had all been focused on business. Camille was so used to being able to tell him anything, and she badly wanted to confide in him about the notes she’d received since arriving on the island. She was starting to realize just how much he was part of her life; how much he was a part of everything she did; how much she had loved him …

Her thoughts were interrupted by a gentle knock on the door. Camille glanced at the clock; almost one a.m. Then she smiled. She’d asked Nicolas to come and see her tonight, but when he hadn’t shown up, she accepted that he’d turned down her invitation. Now, as she rose from her seat, she imagined him wrestling with himself, debating what the right decision would be, before finally agreeing to grant her request.

Camille opened the door and the sight of Nicolas made her catch her breath. It was almost as though she’d summoned him with her thoughts. He’d clearly been working late, most likely staying on New York time and catching up with his office there. Now he was off duty, he’d undone the top buttons of his shirt and rolled up his sleeves, and Camille felt a sharp stab of desire shoot through her. She’d missed him.

They looked at each other for a long moment. There was a wariness in Nicolas’s eyes, as though uncertain how she’d react, and Camille hated to see it, hated the distance that had sprung up between them.

Camille fought to keep her composure, to keep her expression neutral, though if she was being honest with herself, all she wanted to do was embrace Nicolas and sink into his arms, to feel his strong, solid body against hers and fall into bed with him. She longed to lay all her troubles at his door, as she had done for the last three decades, to listen to his words of advice and know he would take care of everything.

But she couldn’t do that any more. She’d made her choice and turned him down.

‘I thought you’d still be awake,’ he replied, and his eyes were soft as he looked at her.

‘Would you like to come in?’

Nicolas nodded and Camille stepped aside, closing the door behind him. Her heart was racing. She knew this man so well, yet everything had changed between them and she didn’t know how to navigate their new relationship.

‘Would you like a brandy?’

Nicolas nodded. ‘Yes, please.’

‘I’ll join you.’ Camille distracted herself by fixing the drinks, splashing Courvoisier into two crystal glasses, and handing one to Nicolas. They sat down side by side in the lounge area of the suite, and both began to speak at once. They laughed, easing the tension. ‘No, you go first,’ Camille insisted.

‘The yacht party was a real success,’ Nicolas congratulated her.

‘Thank you. I think everyone had a lot of fun, and the press have gone crazy since I announced Catherine as the new face of the brand.’ Then Camille’s face darkened. ‘Although Elle made a real show of herself. I knew I should never have invited her. The silver lining is that she and Lucas broke up. Hopefully for good.’

‘He’s a sensible boy. You raised him well,’ Nicolas said quietly. ‘He’ll make the best decision for him.’

Camille gave him a long, searching look. ‘I’m glad you came. I didn’t know if you would.’

‘Of course. This is business. Like I said yesterday, whatever happened between us doesn’t change that.’

Just business. Camille wasn’t sure how she felt about Nicolas’s new hardness – relieved that he’d taken a step back? Or devastated that he’d finally given up on her, cutting ties once and for all. Recklessly she asked, ‘Is that the only reason you came? The business?’

A muscle flickered in Nicolas’s jaw, and he seemed annoyed suddenly. ‘What do you want from me, Camille? You made it clear that the only relationship between us was professional so I’m trying to keep it that way. Don’t toy with me. It’s not fair.’ He drained his glass and slammed it down on the table.

Camille was shocked by his outburst – he was usually so contained, so in control of himself – but she knew that what he’d said was true. It wasn’t fair of her to ask those questions, but the truth was that her feelings were all over the place. ‘I’m sorry,’ she apologized. ‘It’s just hard, after all this time.’

‘This was your choice, Camille,’ Nicolas reminded her. His eyes were firm, but she heard the emotion in his voice again.

Camille stood up. ‘I have something to show you. Wait a moment …’ She went into her bedroom and returned with a letter and a package. She handed both to Nicolas, her face ashen.

‘What’s this?’

‘They’ve both arrived since I’ve been here. Someone knows.’

Wordlessly, Nicolas opened the envelope, taking in the photograph, the accident report, the newspaper article, and the note attached to the top: I know you lied. He swallowed, placing the pile down on the side table. Then he reached for the package, frowning as he saw the handbag stained by a rust-red liquid.

‘Open it,’ Camille said.

Nicolas’s eyes flickered to hers and he did as she said. ‘Putain,’ he swore, with a sharp intake of breath, as he saw the smashed wing mirror and the second, menacing warning:

Now it’s time to pay, once and for all

Camille began to tell Nicolas everything: how the letters had started arriving; how she’d been so scared by them that she had just got her accountant to pay the money blindly.

‘Why didn’t you come to me before?’