Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Ryan was warm and snuggly under the blanket. He rolled over and pulled it up around his ears. He was still in a state of sleep, but his brain managed to register the fact that he was under a blanket. And the firm cushion which he’d clung to earlier in the night had given way to a soft as a cloud pillow.
He cracked open an eyelid and checked the time on his watch.
7.35.
That’s odd, I forgot to take my watch off last night.
He should get up, and shower. Get dressed and head into work.
Just a couple of minutes more then I’ll get up.
His eyes drifted closed once more.
When he startled awake again, he checked his watch. It said 8.20.
“Shit, I’m late! Camille’s gonna fire me.”
A peal of female laughter filled the room. “Technically you are early for work, so there is no danger of me getting rid of you. But I get your meaning.”
Across the room from him, seated at her desk was a smiling Camille. She was immaculately dressed in a navy blue power suit and a white pussy bow blouse. All of which had to be tailor made.
Of course it’s tailor made you dick, she’s from a family of billionaires. These people don’t shop at Target.
She uncrossed her long legs, and rose from the chair. The sound of her towering heels clicked across the floor as she walked. What he wouldn’t give to feel those heels digging into his back as she wrapped her legs around him while he buried his cock deep into her pussy.
As she drew closer, Ryan rallied what was left of his pathetic willpower and shoved away his dirty fantasy about a strict female boss who wanted to have a firm word with him. Thank god he hadn’t taken his pants off, he’d never get them back on.
He swallowed deep as she bent at the knee and crouched beside him. “I’ve ordered us a hot breakfast selection from the hotel. It should be here just before nine. That will give you time to come downstairs and have a shower.”
“I missed the last train,” he confessed.
Her brows furrowed in obvious confusion, and she got to her feet. “I’m sorry I didn’t know there was such a thing as the last train. But then again, the only train I’ve ever been on is the little railway that runs from Monte Carlo to Cap-d’Ail in France.” She nervously worried her bottom lip. “And that only take two minutes.”
Ryan sensed her discomfort. The embarrassment of having lived a life so far removed from that of other people. People like him.
“You’ve never needed to use the subway, so there is nothing to apologize about. I should be the one apologizing. I miscalculated the time it would take me to get to the subway last night, and ended up having to sleep here.”
Ryan glanced at the soft as silk blanket which still covered his body. “Thank you for the blanket, and the pillow.”
Camille nodded. “You missed the last train working overtime for me. It was the least I could do.” She started toward the door, then stopped and turned to him. “Are you coming? There are plenty of fresh towels in the bathroom downstairs.”
She’d grown up in a life of privilege and luxury. All her friends were wealthy. Her family was known throughout the world. Everyone who was anyone knew the Royal family. Camille had always been comfortable in her own skin, and yet this morning she had been embarrassed when she’d admitted she didn’t know the first thing about public transport.
When she travelled it was usually via private jet. And when she wanted to get around town, she simply called up the Royal Resorts car service. Hailing a cab was the closest she ever got to being like the eight million other people who lived in the city.
What would Ryan say if he discovered I can’t even legally drive a car?
Not having a license didn’t really matter in New York City, but she was thirty one and didn’t have a clue how to drive. She really ought to at least have the skills to be able to get behind the wheel of a motor vehicle.
Maybe one day I’ll ask him to teach me how to drive.
The soft padding of Ryan’s footsteps followed her down the internal staircase, past the kitchen and into the main living space of her apartment. As far as she was aware, before this morning, he hadn’t been any further than the kitchen and that was only ever to get food.
Camille’s sense of embarrassment deepened, when Ryan quietly whistled. “Wow, this place is amazing. So much room. Do you own this apartment, Camille?”
She forced a smile to her lips and turned round. “No, Bryce does. He bought it from his father, Edward. And before you ask, he charges me full commercial rates. Despite what some people might say, I am trying to pay my own way with this design gig.”
Ryan winced. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to cause offence. I was just trying to say, I really love your apartment and studio. And yes, I know you come from a different world to me. We are who we are.”
Great, now he thinks I’m too defensive of how I live my life.
The truth was, until her move to New York, money had always been a bit of a mystery to Camille. Something she’d never had to seriously consider. Bryce had been sitting beside her when she’d put her name to her first contract with a department store. And he’d also negotiated a good deal for her with the exclusive stage costume range for the Chloe Fisher Las Vegas concerts.
Camille pointed to a nearby door. “That’s the guest bathroom. It has all the toiletries and things you should want. Let me know if you need anything else.”
He probably thinks I have lots of rich friends come to stay.
She’d die of embarrassment if Ryan ever found out that he was the first real guest in the four years since she’d lived here to use that bathroom. Her brother éliott was the only person who’d ever stayed here, and he was family. That didn’t count.
Ryan nodded, then headed off toward the bathroom. As soon as the door had closed and she heard the lock click shut, Camille let out a breath.
Last night had been bad enough when she’d found him asleep on the chaise longue, but this morning was as awkward as hell. He was all bed mussed and sexy half-awake male. Even in yesterday’s rumpled clothes he’d looked irresistible.
He’s, my employee. I shouldn’t be thinking about him like that, like how I used to see him on the tv show. Real Ryan does not equal Ryan from Bachelors on the Beach.
As soon as Ryan was dressed and they had eaten breakfast, she would put her professional facade back in place and get to work. She would concentrate on selecting the final designs she wanted to showcase at fashion week, while he could continue to flesh out the project plan. There were models to book. Fittings to arrange. And they really should check in with the manufacturers, to make sure the production of her collection pieces, was on schedule. If the store buyers loved her clothes, they had to know when their customers would be able to get their hands on Camille’s latest creations.
So, all this stupid mooning over a guy she had seen on a tv show four years ago really had to stop.
Later today they would head out to scout the location for the runway show, and when they did it would all be above board. She would most definitely not be checking out his ass. Or thinking about those stunning brown eyes of his, and how they would look into her eyes as he rose above her and thrust his cock deep into her body.
No I won’t be thinking about that.
Oh god, I can’t stop thinking about that.
The clothes. The runway. Everything but the guy who was currently standing naked under her shower. That was the important stuff.
Naked. In. My. Shower.
He would be running his strong hands over his body. Soaping up all those crevices and private places. At some point he would have his cock in his hands and be washing it clean.
I could do that for him. But it might involve some tongue and mouth.
Camille squealed when the buzzer for the front door sounded. “Merde!” Her heart was still racing as she took the parcel from the zipper delivery service, and after giving them a brief, “Thank you,” and a generous tip, quickly closed the door. The courier had to have seen the bright red which burned on her cheeks.
At least it wasn’t one of the regular food delivery team members from Royal Resorts Manhattan. They all knew her far too well, and if she’d answered the door in such a flustered state to any one of them, she’d have handed them a perfect slice of early morning gossip.
It had been a long time since she had felt this way about a guy. The past four years had been work, and nothing else. Most days she’d barely had time to eat and sleep, let alone do anything about getting hot and heavy with a sexy male.
Camille was still shaking her head as she set the small parcel on the kitchen counter. This was dangerous territory. The US had employment laws. Bosses did not go lusting after employees.
All those sexy rom com movies about office romances were just a figment of Hollywood’s imagination. This was the real world. People got sued in the real world. The last thing she needed was for her name to be dragged through the mud because she couldn’t resist acting on her desires for her male employee.
She had to get back to smashing out a solid hour on her exercise bike. Anything to calm her raging libido. To stop thinking about Ryan Collins. Of what she would like him to do to her, and she to him.
But it was easier said than done. She’d fallen for him four years ago and what should have died a natural death when the tv show ended, had now sprung back to life. Camille swallowed deep as her aching desire for Ryan breathed hard and heavy down her neck.
I am in so much trouble.