She looked up, forcing a look of mild, pleasant surprise onto her face. Kade stood there, his expression unreadable.
"Mr. Wilder," she said, her voice smooth. "I could say the same to you. I didn't realize you were a fan of authentic Italian food."
He didn't wait for an invitation. He slid into the booth across from her, his large frame making the space feel suddenly, claustrophobically small. "I'm a fan of things that are exactly what they claim to be."
"Hmm." She nodded and sipped her wine. "Same here."
Kade waved a waiter over and ordered a glass of scotch, his eyes never leaving Camille's face.
"You're a long way from the office, Camille," he said. The way he used her name, without the professional title, felt like a physical touch.
"I found myself restless," she replied, taking a slow, deliberate sip of her wine. "The city has a way of calling to you."
"Indeed." He paused to take his glass from the waiter. "I was answering that call too, you know? Imagine my surprise, seeing my new secretary sitting alone in a place like this, ten minutes after I thought I saw a ghost in an alleyway nearby."
"A ghost, Mr. Wilder?" Camille raised her eyebrows in feigned surprise.
Kade leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. The movement brought him closer, into that magnetic space that had nearly undone her in the car. "We aren't in the office now. Drop the 'Mr. Wilder'."
She tilted her head. "And what should I call you?"
"Kade."
He took a sip of his scotch. "Besides, 'sir' feels rather too stiff outside the office."
Before she could retort, the bell chimed again. A man walked in, radiating polished, arrogant charm. He was devastatingly handsome, dressed in a bespoke navy suit that cost more than most people made in a year. He scanned the room with practiced ease before his gaze settled on their table.
Camille's stomach tightened.
Julian Vane.