Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Camille didn’t know where to look. Didn’t know what to say. She’d thought she was clearing the air, but all she had succeeded in doing was to make this poor guy feel two feet tall. His first day in her employ, and she had embarrassed him.
He’d said that the show was scripted, and he’d been acting, but she wasn’t a fool. The look of despair and utter heartbreak on Ryan’s face as he searched the horizon looking for the yacht with Kaylee on board, had kept her awake at night for days following the end of the show. If he had been acting it was a performance worthy of an Oscar.
It was time to let it go. He clearly didn’t want to talk about his time on Bachelors on Beach , and she had no right to press him further. She’d faced enough of her own humiliation at the hands of her father, and it had made her run all the way across the North Atlantic. If Ryan chose to leave her employ right now, she wouldn’t blame him.
“I promise that is the first and last time I will ever mention the show,” she offered, giving him a hopeful smile.
“Thank you. I would appreciate it.”
She stepped past him and headed back into the main design studio. Camille took in a deep lungful of air. The mood in the kitchen had been thick with tension.
And something else, she was doing her best to ignore. An unmistakable attraction.
“What do you know of the New York fashion industry?” she asked, desperate to change the subject.
He followed her out of the kitchen and came to stand in front of one of the partly dressed mannequins. The makings of a dark green knee length skirt was pinned to the model. “I did some research. Looked up your website and also a ton of media stuff from the past couple of years. You’ve had a steady and strong climb up from being a relative nobody.” Ryan’s brows furrowed. “I mean a designer who was unknown in New York City. No offence intended.”
“None taken. Before I arrived here, I was just another person working for my father in his atelier in Paris. I’d never produced anything with my name on it.”
“And now you can go and buy women’s dresses and suits in Saks Fifth Avenue designed by Camille Royal. It must be amazing to be able to walk into a major department store and see something you created hanging on the rack.”
She caught the hint of envy in his voice. He had said he’d left his last job because he wanted more, and if anyone could understand that particular feeling it was her.
“It’s odd, but yes it does feel good, a vindication of all my hard work” she replied.
“And talent,” Ryan added.
Camille pointed to the laptop and large computer monitor sitting on the spare desk. She had cleared Hope’s personal things off the top, and couriered them to her former PA’s home address. Hidden in amongst the pile, Camille had left a card in an envelope. The card simply read.
I am here for you. C
She hadn’t heard from Hope about having received the wedding gift. But she’d gotten confirmation from the store that it had been delivered. At this juncture she didn’t expect to hear back.
Camille cleared her throat. “Would you like to sit and get started on the planning document? See what you think about it, and then let me know.”
Ryan nodded. “Actually, I have been looking online for a ready-made piece of software that we could use instead of having to work with a spreadsheet. Excel is great, but it’s not a project management tool.”
“I’m open to us using anything. Just as long as it gets me away from that dreaded colorful spreadsheet. All those brightly colored columns are giving me nightmares.”
“I figured since you were a designer that you are a visual person. So I’m thinking we look at an application that has ready-made work management templates, and also works as an app. I can put some planning pieces into one of them today and let you have a look, and we can go from there. What do you think?”
She liked his way of thinking. If Ryan could set something up which would work for planning fashion week, and maybe other projects going forward, it would be a game changer for her.
“I think you should go ahead and see what you can build. I have a few things to get finished this morning, so how about you spend some time looking at the software, and then present your ideas to me later this afternoon.”
Ryan slipped his casual brown jacket off. He went to hang it over the back of his chair, but a mortified Camille plucked it from his hands, and breezed over to the far wall. She opened a tall closet and reached for a coat hanger. “Number one rule in fashion Mister Collins, we respect the garments. The kinder you treat this jacket, the longer it will last.”
“Sorry,” he offered.
“Don’t say sorry to me, apologize to the jacket, it’s the one whom you have offended. I am merely trying to smooth things over,” teased Camille.
He might know a thing or two about workflow software, but she had been raised to never leave a single sock on the floor, let alone a full piece of clothing. Ryan was going to have to learn that the fashion business was a serious one.
But when he gifted her with a shy smile it was all Camille could do not to break into a broad grin in response. Crisis averted. They were going to make it through the first day together.
The spreadsheet from hell was worse than he remembered from the other day. The multitude of columns were colored in so many different shades of green and orange, that they danced in front of Ryan’s eyes.
He could understand why Hope had different colored columns for different collections. The drop down menus meant that she had a template for pieces for each collection. The codes even made sense once he knew what he was looking at. SP1SKL actually meant Spring Season Collection One Skirt Long , but they weren’t exactly intuitive.
I can’t keep stopping Camille from her work just to ask what they all mean.
The only thing he could give Hope any sort of thanks for, was that she was consistent in how she handled data. By the end of the morning, he’d selected some basic templates in the chosen application and imported pretty much all of the design studio data into that new app. He’d even started deciphering some more of the codes without Camille’s help.
Ryan was quietly pleased with himself.
His stomach however was less happy. It growled its demands for food. Ryan checked his new iPhone. Two o’clock. He wasn’t used to going this long without food, or at least a snack. At the coffee shop, he’d always been able to grab part of a sandwich made by the food team, and eat it while he kept working.
I should have packed a paper bag lunch.
With the price of a toasted cheese and ham sandwich starting at almost twenty dollars in this part of the city, he couldn’t justify spending a hundred bucks a week on his midday meal. He had debts to settle, and dreams to fund.
He rose from his chair, and stretched his arms out wide. Camille had disappeared somewhere about an hour ago, and he had no idea where she’d gone.
What’s the deal here, am I supposed to go get her food?
After their small misstep this morning over the tv show, he was keen to see the day out on a more positive note.
Ryan’s stomach rumbled again. He’d just retrieved his jacket from the coat closet when Camille appeared in the doorway. She had a tray of coffees in one hand, and a large paper takeout bag in the other. On the side of the bag the words Royal Resorts Manhattan were printed in bold letters.
“Sorry I took so long, but the kitchen was pumped during lunch service, and I had to wait for our food,” she said.
The mention of food had his stomach rumbling loudly in anticipation. Camille raised an eyebrow. “Someone is hungry. Come on, let’s eat.”
A relieved Ryan followed Camille into the kitchen. “I was just wondering if part of my job was to go and get your lunch each day.”
From out of the bag, Camille produced two tubs, and set them on the counter. “It’s Friday which means it’s Korean day. So we have egg drop soup for starters. Then we have Korean egg drop sandwiches, which are so delicious.” She paused for a moment, then laughed. “I think the chef was on a bit of an egg drop theme today.”
Ryan quickly searched the cupboards and after locating some plates, he divided the sandwiches between them. He wasn’t going to make the same mistake as he had the other day and eat more of the food than he should.
“Don’t worry about going to get lunch for us each day,” said Camille placing some napkins on the countertop. “We get fed by the hotel each day. They usually deliver it here, but as I was already in the area seeing Bryce, and the Human Resources people at Hudson Yards, it made sense for me to stop by and collect our order.” She folded up the oversized paper bag and put it in a recycling box.
This was a sweet deal. Food from a major hotel. Freshly made each day. “If you let me know who I should talk to, I’ll start making sure I’m at the door when they arrive with our lunch each day starting Monday,” said Ryan.
“They will also bring my supper. I’ve already dropped tonight’s food off downstairs. It just makes sense to get my food delivered, since I’m always working. And before you ask, yes, I do pay for it,” replied Camille.
She gets all this great food from the hotel. When can I move in?
“So you don’t have to do groceries or cook for yourself?”
Camille had the good grace to look a touch embarrassed. “No. I’ve never cooked a meal in my entire life. I should be ashamed of that fact, but I’m not. At my family’s home in Paris our full time chef has his own team in the kitchen. My parents host a lot of parties, and functions for special guests.”
He couldn’t imagine living that sort of life. But if someone offered it to him, he wouldn’t complain. And he certainly wouldn’t say no.
“From the day I was born I was granted a life of privilege. But I’ve also been working full time in the fashion trade since I was fourteen. I wasn’t given the opportunity to learn any other life skills. None of my brothers can cook either, but I bet no one has ever taken them to task over it.”
Ouch.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound like I was judging you. I know plenty of people who get their food ordered in.”
Camille waved his apology away with a sly smile. “Who knows. Maybe if your planning app really does save us a ton of time, you could teach me how to boil an egg. But first you’d have to show me where the stove top is in the kitchen.”
He was jealous of the way she lived, but he was also impressed that Camille owned her life. She was unapologetic about her family background. About her privilege. From what he’d seen of her work online it was clear she invested all her time and her talents to her creative pursuits. She had taken the opportunities she’d been given, and then created her own.
And she’s right. A guy wouldn’t be held up to the same scrutiny over a lack of domestic skills as a woman would be. Which makes me a jealous, judgmental pig.
Camille picked up her Korean egg sandwich. “This kitchen is too small to fit a table and chairs, so we usually eat at our desks,” she explained. “Now that is one thing, I am ashamed to admit. In France everyone goes out to eat lunch. But in New York, I do as the Americans do and work through the middle of the day.”
She nodded toward the metal cutting table and mannequins. “But we keep food away from the designs. The last thing I need is sticky fingers on the fabrics. We can eat, and then we wash our hands thoroughly afterwards.”
Ryan carried his egg drop soup carefully over to his desk, moving a few things out of the way before setting the bowl down. Camille didn’t bother with the soup, rather she went straight to the egg drop sandwich.
Once they were both seated at their respective desks, which faced one another. Ryan posed his next question. “Can I ask you something?”
“If it’s about cookbooks, no I don’t own any.”
“That’s not what I was going to ask. I happened to notice you have Chloe Fisher as the screen saver and wallpaper on the work laptops. I read online that you designed her wedding gown. I don’t know her music all that well, but it must have been amazing working with the world’s biggest popstar.”
Camille smiled. “Actually the screen savers are more about the outfits she’s wearing. I created the costumes for Chloe’s Las Vegas residency last year, and I’m super proud to have done something so different to my usual design work. It’s also great since she’s now family.”
“What?”
“Chloe’s new husband is my cousin Jordan. He’s one of Bryce’s brothers. They got married a few weeks ago in the Caribbean. And before you ask, no you probably won’t get to meet Chloe. She and Jordan are enjoying an extended honeymoon somewhere on a private island in the South Pacific.”
He got the hint. His four month contract was to work with Camille and support her with fashion week, it wasn’t to go hanging around with popstars.
Ryan set his bowl of soup to one side. “I’ve been looking at the planning app and think I might have something to show you. I’d really like your feedback.”
Camille rose from her chair and came around to Ryan’s desk. She had taken off her suit jacket and was wearing a pale pink blouse which showed more than a hint of cleavage. Ryan did his best to avert his gaze as she placed both hands on his desk and leaned forward.
“Wow, this looks interesting. How does it work?” she said.
The scent of her perfume reached him, and he had to take a moment to gather his thoughts. It hadn’t passed his notice that Camille Royal wasn’t just a talented designer, she had a rocking body. A pair of plump tits that had enough bounce in them when she walked, that he knew they were real.
Stop it! Jeez. She is your boss.
Ryan curled his toes up tightly in his Doc Martens as Camille’s arm brushed against his skin. He made a mental note to wear a proper button down shirt tomorrow, not a t-shirt.
I need this job. I need this job.
He had to lock his needs and wants down hard and fast. Serious cash and a possible shot at a real career were on the line.
But when she was this close to him, it made breathing difficult.
As Ryan reached for the laptop with his right hand, he wiped the sweaty palm of his left hand on his jeans, and prayed she didn’t notice. “Ok, let me explain how the app works and that should give you a good idea as to the direction I was thinking we could go with it for fashion week.”
When Camille grabbed her own chair and dragged it around to his side of the two desk arrangement then sat, Ryan did his best to focus on the computer monitor. Her perfume had his cock twitching in anticipation of the end of a long, long dry spell.
He swallowed deep, and forced himself to think of NFL team stats. Anything other than the way his new boss filled out those purple suit pants of hers. Ryan was still battling his lust as Camille leaned forward and asked in that sultry French accent that he knew one day would be his undoing. “Teach me, Ryan.”
I am done for.