Seduced and Betrayed (16 page)

"All right, go on." Constance stepped aside, accurately reading his intent in his eyes. "But you'll only be getting yourself arrested for nothing. Ariel isn't here."

"Not here?" Zeke said suspiciously. "Then where is she?"

"Somewhere where she'll be safe from you."

"Dammit—" Zeke's fists flexed against his sides
"—where is she?"

"She asked me not to tell you." There was ice-cold triumph in Constance Cameron's eyes. "She pleaded with me, actually, begged me with tears in her eyes not to tell you where she was. I told you, she doesn't want to see you again. Not ever."

* * *

But
not ever
turned out to be shorter than anyone could have imagined. Three days later, Zeke received a very legal-looking envelope through the mail slot in the door of apartment 1-G. Inside was an equally legal-looking document, summoning him back to the palatial white mansion in Beverly Hills.

"We've called you here to discuss a matter of some delicacy," the lawyer said when Zeke presented himself at the appointed time. "Before we begin, however, it is imperative that you sign this agreement—" he handed Zeke a pen "—stating that what we discuss here today will go no further than this room."

Zeke looked back and forth between the lawyer and Constance Cameron. "And just what are we discussing?" he asked.

The lawyer inclined his head toward the document.

Zeke put the pen down. "I want to see Ariel first."

"Ariel doesn't want to see you."

"I don't see Ariel, I don't sign." His eyes were hard and implacable as he stared at Ariel's mother. "It's as simple as that."

Without a word, Constance Cameron walked to the door of her fussy, overdone French Provincial office and opened it. "Ask Ariel to come down here, please," she said to whoever was on the other side.

Five minutes ticked by in total silence while they waited for Ariel to appear. When she did, another minute went by before Zeke could bring himself to say anything.

She looked awful. Wan and somehow thinner, although realistically, he knew, she couldn't have lost much weight at all in the four days since he'd last seen her. Her face was pale and there were dark circles under her eyes—and shadows of pain in them. Even her glorious golden hair seemed to have dulled.

Zeke lurched up out of his chair. "Ariel, sweetheart, what has she done to you?"

"What have I done to her?" Constance made a harsh sound, somewhere between a bark of laughter and a snort of disbelief. "This is a result of what
you've
done to her."

"What I—"

"Ariel is pregnant."

Zeke's mouth fell open. "Pregnant?"

"Mrs. Cameron, the confidential agreement—" the lawyer began but Constance waved him to silence.

"Pregnant?" Zeke said again, trying to take it in as a half dozen different emotions assailed him at once. Disbelief. Joy. Concern. Pride. Excitement. Confusion. "Is she telling the truth, Ariel?" he asked softly. "Are you really pregnant?"

"Why on earth would I lie about it?" Constance snapped. "Of course, she's pregnant. Do you think we'd be having this distasteful conversation is she weren't?"

"Ariel?" Zeke said, his gaze still riveted to her averted face. She hadn't moved from the doorway, or said a word, or looked at him. "Ariel, sweetheart..." He had so many questions, he didn't know where to start. When? How? They'd been careful, for the most part, although there had been a time or two... "How long?" he asked softly.

"Less than six weeks, thank God," Ariel's mother answered. "That makes what we have to do easier."

Zeke shifted his gaze back to Constance. "And what do we have to do?" he asked, his voice low and suddenly dangerous.

"You're going to have to marry her."

Relief flooded through him; he thought she'd meant something else. "Yes, of course," Zeke agreed instantly. "As soon as possible. We'll fly to Vegas or down to Mexico and get married right away. Would you like that, sweetheart?" He held out his hand to her as he spoke, trying to knock down the icy wall she'd erected between them. "We could honeymoon in Acapulco."

She ignored his outstretched hand—and him—as if he didn't exist. "May I go now?" she said to her mother.

Constance looked over her daughter's head at her prospective son-in-law. "Will you sign the agreement?"

Zeke nodded.

"You may go," Constance said to her daughter.

"Ariel, please." Panicked, Zeke reached out and put his hand on Ariel's arm, stopping her. "Don't be this way," he demanded, pleaded. "I love you, dammit. Look at me."

But she stood there, silent as a stone, her slender arm trembling under his fingers, and refused to raise her eyes to his. He wanted to shake her, to make her look at him, but he opened his hand, instead, and let her go, unable to cause her any more pain than she had obviously already suffered. He watched her turn and leave her mother's office without a backward glance, and then he stood, staring at the door for a moment before he turned back to face her mother and the lawyer.

"Where's that agreement you wanted me to sign?"

"Right here." The lawyer handed him the pen again.

Zeke skimmed the brief paragraph and signed. "Is that it?"

"That's just the confidentiality agreement," the lawyer said. "We also have a prenuptial agreement." He laid another sheet of paper on top of the one Zeke had already signed.

Zeke lifted the pen, putting point to paper, and then stopped. "This is just the last page. Where's the rest of it?"

"It's just a standard prenuptial. No need to waste everyone's time reading the entire document now."

Zeke put the pen down. "I guess you'd better send it over to my agent, then. She gets fifteen percent for wasting her time reading entire documents before I sign them." He looked back and forth between Constance and the lawyer. "Is that it?"

The lawyer hesitated, waiting to take his cue from Constance. "That's it for me," he said when she nodded. "Mrs. Cameron would like you to stay for a few moments longer, however." He gathered up the papers on the desk as he spoke and slid them into a black eel skin briefcase. "She has something further she'd like to discuss with you."

"What further?" Zeke asked when the lawyer had gone.

"The wedding."

"Are you sure that's what Ariel wants?"

Constance pounced on that like a cat. "Are you backing out?"

"No, I'm not backing out," Zeke said wearily. "I'm ready to marry Ariel whenever and wherever she wants. If it is what she wants."

"What she wants is immaterial to this discussion. She knows what has to be done. And she's agreed to it. She needs a husband and that baby she's carrying needs a father and a legitimate name. Anything less and she can kiss her career goodbye."

"Is that what all this is about? Her damned career?"

Constance raised an eyebrow. "Would you be any less concerned about your career if you were in her position?"

Zeke shrugged, reluctant to answer that because he couldn't refute it. In her position, he
would
be worried about his career. Damn worried.

Public morality might have relaxed to the extent that most people—most people in New York or Los Angeles, anyway—at least accepted the concept of sex outside of marriage. But unwed motherhood still carried a stigma, especially when your public persona was that of America's fresh-faced little sweetheart.

Zeke sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "When and where?"

"Next Saturday. Right outside these windows on the south terrace." She handed him a five-by-seven file card with a half dozen lines typed on it. "This is the name of a doctor who'll do your blood test and send the results to my lawyer so he can take care of the marriage license. He'll be expecting you to call and set up something for tomorrow. The other name and address is where I've arranged for you to get your tuxedo. You'll need two; one for you and one for your best man. Other than that, all you have to do is show up here no later than twelve-thirty next Saturday, and be prepared to smile your way through this farce."

"Why go to all this trouble?" Zeke asked in amazement, looking down at the card in his hand. "Why not just fly to Las Vegas or Mexico?"

"Because Ariel has an image to live up to," Constance said. "Because America's sweetheart doesn't run off and get married in a tacky Las Vegas wedding chapel or on a beach in Mexico like some dirty hippie. She's going to have a real wedding, with a wedding cake and a maid of honor and a few close family friends as guests. When the wedding photographs are leaked to the press, the world will see that Ariel Cameron married respectably, with the blessing of her mother, and not in some hole-in-the-wall ceremony, as if she had something to be ashamed of."

"And when the baby comes in less than nine months? What happens to all that respectability then?"

"People might count on their fingers, but by then it won't really matter because Ariel will already have been established in the public's mind as a properly married woman."

Zeke could only stare at her. "You've got it all worked out to the last detail, haven't you?"

"Yes, I do. Although, there's one final detail I haven't mentioned yet."

"Which is?"

"After Saturday, I expect you to disappear from Ariel's life for good."

Chapter 9

"Dad!" Cameron called as Zeke walked into the nave of the church for the wedding rehearsal. "Dad, over here. I want you to meet my bridesmaids. You remember Karen, don't you?" she said, when he was near enough for introductions.

"Yes, of course, I remember Karen." Zeke leaned down to kiss the young woman's cheek. "You were on the cheerleading squad together at Beverly Hills High," he said, making his daughter's friend beam with pleasure to know he really had remembered her.

"And this is Denise, from the office. She's my design partner on the Hoffsteader apartment complex. You know, that renovation project in Exposition Park I told you about?"

"Denise," he said pleasantly, limiting himself to a charming smile and the businesslike handshake she offered. "Cameron's mentioned several times how much she enjoys working with you."

"And this is Michael's best man, Gordon. And his groomsmen, Bruce and Mark and—Oh, Susan, there you are. Finally!" Cameron said on a breath of relief as she broke away from the group and hurried toward her late-arriving maid of honor. "I was beginning to get worried about you."

Zeke stepped back from the crowd of young people a bit as his daughter rushed off to greet her Maid of Honor, unobtrusively drifting away so they could laugh and chat without feeling self-conscious. None of his daughter's friends were in the movie business and, as a result, they tended to stammer and stutter and wonder what to say in the presence of one of Hollywood's biggest and brightest names.

Or maybe, he thought with a sigh, it was just the natural reticence of the young when faced with making conversation with a friend's father.

"Makes you feel old just to look at them, doesn't it?" said a soft voice at his right elbow.

Zeke turned to look down at his ex-wife, surprise clearly written on his face.

"We
did
declare a truce," Ariel said. "Remember?"

One corner of Zeke's mouth lifted in a rueful little smile. "I wasn't sure it would still be in force."

Ariel shrugged, knowing perfectly well what he meant; she hadn't known quite how she was going to face this moment either. "What's a kiss between exes?" she said, having already resolved to treat it lightly.

It had been much more than a kiss, of course, but he wasn't going to argue the point if she wasn't. Not here, anyway. They had Cameron to think of.

He tilted his head toward the chattering crowd of young people, a silent indication that he was going to follow her lead. "How long is this shindig supposed to last?"

The tension in Ariel's shoulders relaxed a degree as she realized he wasn't going to make an issue of what had happened by her pool. "Less than an hour, I hope," she said, glancing at the classic gold Cartier watch on her wrist. "Sondra told me she's made reservations for eight-thirty at La Chaumiere for the rehearsal dinner."