Marrying for King's Millions / The Spanish Aristocrat's Woman: Marrying for King's Millions

“Never gonna happen,” Jackson assured him with a friendly slap on the back. Then he glanced at Travis. “Where did you say you and Julie were going on your honeymoon?”

“I didn’t,” Travis told him. “But we’re taking one of the jets to Mexico.”

“Mexico?” Adam silenced Jackson with a look. “Julie told Gina you were heading to Fiji.”

“Changed our minds,” Travis said with what he hoped was a careless shrug. He didn’t want to get in to this with his brothers. There was no time for a long, drawn-out battle and no way would they have given him anything less. Travis checked his watch again, wondered what the hell was taking Julie so long to get changed.

“This have anything to do with the French guy who crashed the party?” Jackson’s eyebrows lifted as he shoved both hands into his slacks pockets.

“Julie didn’t look too happy to see him,” Adam agreed. “I’m thinking he’s her ex?”

“Damn it.” Travis bit the curse off, low and hard. He’d hoped to just avoid all of this, since he’d rather no one knew about the blackmail. Especially his brothers. The Kings weren’t the type to bow to extortion. And he wouldn’t have gone along with it himself if he hadn’t had to buy time, as well as Frenchy’s silence. “Just had to be observant, didn’t you?”

“Actually,” Jackson mused, his features tight as he began to get the picture that something was off. “I wasn’t paying attention. It was Nathan who cued me in.”

“Great.” So it wasn’t only his immediate family that had their radar tuned in. Travis could only hope that the rest of their guests hadn’t noticed anything odd.

The trouble was, there were too many damn Kings, Travis thought. His father had been one of four brothers and those brothers had spread out and created at least three sons apiece. Now they were all running different aspects of the King dynasty. Couldn’t throw a rock in California without hitting at least one King cousin.

Nathan’s company built personal computers and made them so well and so affordable, King PCs were threatening to take over the world. “What’d he say?”

“Nothing much,” Jackson said and stepped out of the way as a catering crew member staggered past him carrying an oversized coffee urn. “Just that Julie looked like she was going to be sick and you looked like the top of your head was going to explode. Me—” he added with a sly grin “—I’m so used to seeing that expression on your face, it never registered.”

“Thanks.” Travis shook his head and ground his back teeth together. Nathan had noticed too much. “He tell this to anyone else?”

“Nope. Well, wait. Cousin Griffin and his twin Garret were there, too. So they know you were pissed. So what? You’re always pissed about something, big brother.”

He supposed that was true, but this was different and apparently, Adam sensed it. Jerking his head to the side, Travis’s oldest brother shifted farther away from the rest of the cleanup crew. Adam didn’t speak again until the three of them were standing in the shadows of the main house, surrounded by overgrown hydrangea bushes. “What’s going on, Travis? Who was that guy? And what’s he got to do with you and Julie?”

“He’s an irritant.” The hairs at the back of his neck bristled and Travis felt the urge to howl or hit something. His perfectly laid plans were threatening to crumble down around him. All because of one greedy bastard.

“Care to explain?” Jackson asked.

Travis glared at him. “Not really.”

“Do it anyway,” Adam said.

He blew out a breath and surrendered to the inevitable. “Name’s Jean Claude Doucette.”

Adam whistled. “So I was right. He’s Julie’s ex?”

“Well, that’s tacky as all get out,” Jackson muttered. “Why the hell did he come to the wedding?”

As the workers went on about their business, the muted sounds became nothing more than white noise. But Travis still kept his voice pitched low. “Because as it turns out, he’s not as ex as we thought.”

“Explain,” Adam said.

He did. While Jackson and Adam threw astonished glances at each other and then him, Travis told his brothers exactly what had happened after the wedding. Watching their reactions, Travis felt his own anger begin to bubble fresh in the pit of his stomach.

“You paid the bastard?” Jackson demanded. “Are you nuts?”

“Had to,” Travis said. “No choice.”

“There’s always a choice,” Jackson told him, then paused and cocked his head. “You hear that? Sort of a low rumble?” When neither of his brothers said anything, Jackson said, “That’s the sound of dad spinning in his grave.”

Travis nodded. “Yeah, helpful. Thanks.”

“You never pay a blackmailer, Travis,” Adam said. “You should have called the police.”

“Right. Because cops showing up to my wedding would look so great in the papers.” Travis shook his head again and dearly wished he hadn’t quit smoking two years ago. He’d only quit then to prove to himself he could do it. That his own will was stronger than the siren’s call of nicotine. Well, fine. He’d proved his case. Now he wanted a damn cigarette.

“He’ll only come back for more,” Adam warned.

“Think I don’t know that?” Travis shifted his gaze from his brothers to the remnants of the party. A tablecloth lifted lazily into the wind and a napkin skipped across the lawn, tossed by a breeze that rifled the leaves of the bushes where they stood. The sun was sliding down toward the horizon and painting the slivers of clouds in the sky a pearly sort of dark peach. And he was taking note of all of this in an attempt to not think about what his brain was chewing on.

Pointless.

Turning back to his oldest brother, he said, “I paid him because I wanted to buy myself some time. We’re going to Mexico to arrange for a divorce and a quick—quiet—wedding. When we get back, I’ll take care of the little creep.”

“What do you want us to do?” Adam asked and Travis was suddenly grateful for his family. Sure, they argued and fought him and let him know when they didn’t agree with him, but when it counted, they stepped up to help in any way they could.

“Keep an eye on him. Watch where he goes. Who he’s with.” Travis had been thinking about this for the last couple of hours. Even when he stood beside Julie to cut the cake. When he’d posed for pictures he didn’t want. When he danced with her to thunderous applause. During all that time, he’d been planning his next move. He’d decided to hire a P.I., but this was better. His brothers would never betray him and the fewer outsiders who knew the truth, the better for him.

He checked his wristwatch again. Whether Julie was ready or not, it was time to go. “Look in to this French guy’s past. I don’t care how you do it but get me some information on him. I’m thinking this isn’t the first time he’s pulled this stunt.”

“What?” Jackson almost laughed, then sobered up again fast. “You think he marries women then goes around blackmailing ’em? Gotta be easier ways to make a living.”

“I don’t know about that, but I’m thinking blackmail’s not new to him. He was really smooth. Wouldn’t surprise me to find out it wasn’t his first time.”

“We’ll do it,” Adam said softly, shooting a look at the house behind them. “But what about Julie?”

Travis went cold and still. “What about her?”

“You don’t think she was in on it, do you?”

“The million-dollar question,” Travis said, turning so that he could look up to the window of the bedroom where he knew she was changing clothes, preparing to leave. “I don’t know if she’s a part of this. But I intend to find out.”

“I don’t like this a bit.”

“I know, Mom,” Julie said as she tried to fluff hair that refused to be fluffed. She gave herself a quick once- over in the mirror and thought that despite everything that had happened that day, she looked pretty good. Her red hair was flat, but her sleeveless, dark green dress looked great. Frowning a little, she tried to tug up the bodice, but it fell back into place again, displaying a little too much cleavage for comfort.

Too late to change now, though. She was already behind schedule and if there was one thing Travis appreciated it was a tightly run ship.

“Why was Jean Claude here?” her mother asked from her seat on the edge of the queen-size bed.

Julie looked into the mirror at her mom’s concerned features and for just a minute or two, she considered confessing all. But what would that serve? All she’d do was worry her mother. It wouldn’t solve the problem. Wouldn’t make it go away. So, no point in opening this particular can of worms.

“To wish me luck,” she said instead and forced a smile.