asked Julian in particular.
“Of course you’re invited to the wedding.” He draped his arm around Camille’s chair. “I’m sure Camille will want you by her side.”
“Since the wedding isn’t going to be for a couple of weeks, could Tasha join us in France in maybe a week or so?” Camille’s insecurities leaked out as she spoke to Julian.
“Sounds perfect. Whatever you want.” Julian glanced at Tasha. “I can send a jet for you when you’re ready to come.”
“A private jet?” Tasha’s eyes lit with excitement, but she masked it with smooth composure. “Cool.”
Uneasiness knotted inside Camille and escaped in her nervous laughter.
“Say, Julian…?” Tasha asked. “You got any brothers?”
“I have one brother.”
“Older or younger?”
“Younger, by two years.”
“Is he married?”
“No.” Julian smiled.
Camille kicked Tasha’s shin under the table.
“Ouch!” Tasha yelled and glared at Camille. She bent over, rubbing her leg.
Julian hid his chuckle behind a cough.
The waiter Julian had stopped to talk to earlier appeared with a tray of food, including a plate of hamburger and fries for Julian—he’d told Camille that he loved the American delicacy—and a slice of apple pie with a side of vanilla ice cream for Camille.
After serving them, the waiter hesitated over Tasha with a plate of cheesecake. “Mr. de Laurent asked me to choose something from the dessert menu for madam.” He sat the dish in front of her. “I’m sure you’ll find it to your liking. Or, if madam prefers something else…?”
“No, this is fine.” Tasha smiled politely and grabbed her fork, ready to feast on the café’s sweet treat.
As the trio munched, they reserved the conversation to minimal small talk until they’d nearly finished with their desserts.
“Well, Tasha, are you going back to L.A. tonight?” Julian asked, pushing his plate aside. “If you’d like to stay in Vegas a couple of days, I can extend our villa upstairs for you.” Julian paused, catching his breath. “I do hate to risk looking like a poor host, but we are due at the airport soon. We’ll be leaving for London this afternoon.”
“Well, Vegas ain’t exactly London,” she said in lighthearted quips. “But okay, I’ll take it.”
The three of them stood and went back inside the hotel lobby where Julian made sure the staff knew Tasha would be staying on through the end of the week—four days away. They were to see to her every need and desire.
Camille was surprised to learn that while they were lunching, her belongings inside the suite had been packed into brand new designerluggage. A notion that made Tasha swoon.
The girls said their goodbyes. Tasha went upstairs and Camille climbed into a limo with Julian, Soren, and Heinz, Julian’s pilot. During the drive to the airport, uneasiness crept over Camille and left her with a troubled feeling. Leaving the country with three men she’d known for less than a week might not be construed as prudent.
She knew her qualms were crazy. Julian and Soren were honorable men; even though they came from two separate classes of society, their morals and principals were the same. Maybe that’s why each was able to put so much faith and trust in the other. They got as good as they gave.
A t the airport, Julian showed Camille the stateroom on the plane. “Once we’re in the air,” he said, “you can rest in here if you’d like.”
He wondered about Camille’s friend. She was loud and flashy. The exact opposite of Camille. How had they become friends? But no matter, if Camille wanted her to come to France, he’d bring her there. Better yet, he’d send Andre to get her. That’d serve him right.
“So, we’re going to London and then on to Marseilles?” she asked, as if she was just trying to fill the silence.
“We will spend a day or two in London where you can do a little more shopping.” He felt an eager attraction coming from her and it pleased him.
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