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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.
    C amille 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.
    He knew his way around. He’d been here before. She couldn’t imagine paying for this place one night, much less multiple times.
    Camille stepped inside a room that borrowed its theme from the suite’s outer area. Red leather chairs and a matching bed frame were happily situated amid the grandeur of old-world European elegance. The king-size bed, covered in a pink and red floral print, looked inviting.
    “You look tired, Chéri.” Julian brushed Camille’s bangs out of her face. “Why don’t you rest for a bit?” He leaned against the doorframe, and the smile in his eyes glowed with a sensuous flame. “When Davis gets here, I’ll let you know.”
    She exhaled a long sigh of admiration. Julian was respecting her space and not making demands or assumptions. His thoughtfulness was winning him points.
    “All right.” She looked down and backed away from him. He turned and closed the door as he left.
    A cry of relief broke from her lips. Thank god he’d left, before she had the chance to throw herself at him.
    J ulian returned to the suite’s living room and Soren handed him a scotch, straight up. He needed it. He was close, but any minute things could fall apart. Julian was a firm believer in Murphy’s Law. If something could go wrong, it would happen to him.
    He drained the glass, set it on the