Chapter 10
If Barnard was lying to her, Camilla was ready to file for divorce. She’d told herself that much already.
They pulled up to The Lane Hotel not long after. Barnard got out to park the car, and Camilla waited by the entrance, arms loosely crossed. She barely had time to check her phone when a convertible shot up the driveway. The driver hit the brakes so hard that dust billowed all around her, making her cough.
A playful, mocking voice rang out before the dust even settled. “Well, well, isn’t this our scene’s famous model couple? Camilla, why are you out here all alone? Didn’t think your husband would let you freeze by the door p>
Camilla glanced over. Of course. Abelard, host of tonight’s party, and an expert at sarcasm. She honestly couldn’t remember what she’d ever done to tick him off, but every time she ran into him, he just couldn’t help himself. “Model couple” was practically his catchphrase.
She met his gaze, unfazed. “Maybe you should look into that, Abelard. The Lane family’s throwing such a huge event, but you didn’t hire even one valet? That’s pretty stingy, don’t you think p>
For a second, Abelard looked annoyed, like he was scrambling for a comeback. Before he could spit out a reply, another voice cut through the tension. Smooth and deep, slightly teasing. “So childish. So dull p>
A car door opened and a tall guy stepped out. He wore a perfectly cut black suit, but in a relaxed way, almost careless, like he didn’t try too hard. His hair was styled but with just the right amount of messy. A few loose strands hung low, shadowing his forehead. In the sunset, the blue diamond in his ear sparkled in an unexpected, eye-catching way.
He slid out of the car, gave the tire a casual kick, and muttered, “Don’t use this car next time, it sucks to ride in p>
“Of course, Lance. Whatever you say,” Abelard said quickly. The same Abelard who just a second ago had been so cocky with Camilla was now full of fake smiles for this guy.
Lance let out a short laugh. “This whole affair is low-budget anyway. Even Abelard’s stuck parking his own car p>
Embarrassment flickered across Abelard’s face. He shot Camilla a look, mumbled something she couldn’t make out, and headed off to deal with his car.
Lance didn’t stop to chat. As he walked past, Camilla caught a glimpse of his sharp cheekbones and striking profile. She was sure she’d never met him before, but something about him—his voice, the way he carried himself—felt so weirdly familiar. Even the faint scent of cedar he left in his wake stirred the back of her mind.
Just as the scent started to fade, Barnard came back. He slipped his arm gently around her shoulders. “I just saw Abelard. He didn’t bother you, did he p>
Camilla shook her head. “No.” That odd sense of déjà vu still lingered. She was the sort of person who remembered faces, especially faces like Lance’s. If she’d seen him before, she definitely would have known.
She tried to retrace her steps in her mind but got nowhere. There was nothing there—no memory, no connection.
Barnard looked her over, concern plain in his voice. “Are you cold? The AC was pretty strong in the car. Want me to get you a blanket or something p>
Camilla managed a small smile and shook her head. “I’m alright, really.” People had started coming up to greet them. Instinctively, she put on her polished social smile, chatting and laughing with each guest that came over to Barnard’s side.
When she looked up, her gaze met a pair of narrow, smirking eyes from the floor above. It was him—Lance. He leaned against the railing, lazily swirling a glass of wine. The moment he noticed her, he raised an eyebrow. Just a little.
Almost like he was saying hello.
It shouldn’t have felt familiar, but somehow, it did.