A burly Laurent security guard moved swiftly beside Camille, stepping between her and the reporters to block their aggressive approach.
“Step back. Mrs. Laurent will not be giving any statements at this time.”
The paparazzi grumbled, voices clamoring for attention. Camille used the momentary distraction to slip past them, practically diving into the black sedan waiting at the curb. The door slammed shut.
She exhaled sharply, pressing her palms to her temples.
“Damn it,” she muttered under her breath.
The guard slid into the driver’s seat, glancing at her in the rearview mirror. “Where to, ma’am?”
Camille inhaled deeply, centering herself. “Just drive.”
As the car eased away from the flashing cameras and the noise faded, she leaned back in her seat, trying to steady her racing heart.
