The glass chilled quickly, frosting her fingers. She hurried back toward her seat and sipped the water before setting the glass on a nearby coffee-like table.
“Can I get you anything else?”
She shook her head. “Will Julian be joining me during the flight? I don’t really like sitting out here by myself.”
Soren’s sympathetic smile said he felt sorry for her. “I will inform Mr. de Laurent.” He bowed his head and backed out of the cabin.
The last couple of days had been long and stressful. Camille’s eyelids grew heavy and she scrutinized her chair and the sofa nearby. She moved to it, wanting to rest for a moment or two. The couch melded around her, lulling her into slumber.
Julian exited the cockpit and headed toward the cabin, fully aware of the haughty smirk spreading over his mouth.
Camille Chandler, soon to be de Laurent, was a force to be reckoned with. No doubt she could easily handle anything papa or Madeleine threw at her, but more than that, she had the makings to become a wildcat in bed.
Before the marriage was over, he would have her, and it wouldn’t happen out of a sense of obligation.
Watching her sleeping on the couch, he appraised her with more than mild interest. Her nubile body filled him with an inner excitement. Blonde hair strewn across her delicately carved face beckoned him to her side.
“Chéri.” Gentle fingers swept her hair back.
She stumbled out of the sleepy fog and when her gaze settled on Julian, a hint of pink stained her cheeks.
“We’re about to take off. The seatbelt is a good idea.”
She sat up and, to his dismay, inched away from him.
“Gee, I didn’t realize I was so tired.” Camille fumbled for the seatbelt.
He placed a hand on her shoulder, hoping to calm her. “No worries, Chéri. Once we’re in the air there’s a state room where you can rest.”
The color in her cheeks deepened and a bewildered smile touched her face. “Do you have any food? I’m kind of hungry.”
“Food? Of course. What would you like?”
“What do you got?”
“Soren,” Julian lifted his voice slightly.
His assistant appeared. “Sir.”
“Miss Chandler is hungry. I trust we have something that will meet with her approval once we’re in the air?”
“Most of the dinners we have will take longer to prepare than we will be in the air,” Soren said. “We do have sandwich meals. Turkey or ham, I believe.”
Julian looked at Camille.
“Turkey.” She nodded.
“Excellent.” Julian’s smile turned on at half-power as he leaned back against the sofa.
Camille reached for her water glass and glanced at Julian.
He stretched his arms along the back of the couch. “Will our U.S. wedding take place this evening or tomorrow?”
With a shrug born in indifference she waved and said, “How about this evening?” She didn’t say anything more until his gaze met hers. “Do you think we can get someone from one of the chapels to come to our suite instead of going there? I know you want to keep it under wraps.”
“If that’s what you want. I’ll make it happen.” He touched her cheek in a wistful gesture. “We’ll want to wait until my legal counsel drops by, of course.”
There was no way they’d be tying any knots before they’d signed prenuptial agreements and business contracts. Julian was a lot of things, but he wasn’t stupid.
“We can wait until tomorrow if it helps.”
Soren came in and the mild scent of turkey filled the cabin. Julian’s stomach ached. Perhaps he should’ve ordered something.
Camille straightened and clasped her hands in her lap. Soren placed a tray with everything she could possibly want on the table before them. She opened the sandwich and tossed aside the lettuce and tomato, painted the bread with a thin layer of mayonnaise, dusted it with salt and pepper, and slapped it back together again. She cut the sandwich in half and grabbed a portion.
“You want the other half?” she asked, raising the sandwich to her mouth.
“You go ahead.” Not that Julian wouldn’t mind it, but he didn’t want to take food from her. He could have Soren bring in another but his instincts said they’d be landing soon. “I’ll get something once we get to the hotel.”
Her face darkened with rebellion. She dropped her half of the sandwich onto the plate and picked up the other. “You want some mayo or mustard on this?”
Julian shook his head.
“Look, we can both get something at the hotel,” she said. “But for now, we’ll just have this to tide us over.”
A chuckle ventured up Julian’s throat. Trying to resist her was futile. He accepted the sandwich, as is, and took a bite. The bread was void of moisture and not appealing taste-wise. “Pretty dry,” he said with a wink.
They laughed.
“I think room service should be at the top of our list once we’re settled into the hotel.” Her infectious grin set the tone for fun.
The phone on the table beside Julian rang. He snatched it up before it had the chance to jingle a second time. “Yes.”
He listened and after a brief interlude, hung up the receiver and turned to Camille. “We’ll be landing directly,” he said. “You have your seatbelt on?”
She nodded with a flicker of amusement in her eyes, as if she found his attentiveness both invigorating and irritating.
Julian fastened his seatbelt. The puzzle pieces of his future were starting to fall into place. Everything would be fine so long as Camille didn’t go running for the hills once she met Papa and Madeleine.
Camille and Julian registered in the Bellagio’s executive suite lounge rather than the hotel’s front lobby. She had no idea that high-profile guests were accommodated in this privileged manner. There was a lot to learn about Julian’s world.
After the party checked in, including Soren and Julian’s pilot, they rode the private elevators up to the thirty-fourth floor to one of the hotel’s Villas.
The five bedroom suite’s décor captivated Camille with its plush bright red couches and chairs, fine furniture in tan and gold and topped with black marble. On the far side, a wall of windows draped in red and gold curtains caught her attention and landed on a fireplace smack-dab in the middle. Wow. Outside a terrace boasted immaculately groomed gardens and a private pool. Double wow.
Julian grabbed her hand and she floated along as he pulled her toward one of the rooms. “This will be your bedchamber,” he said, opening the door.