Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
Glass of wine in hand, Camille stared out the window of her design studio. The view was nothing to write home about. A mighty glass and steel skyscraper rising over forty nine floors took up most of the outside vista. But when she’d gone looking for a place to work and live, the idea of having something beautiful to look at while she gazed out the window hadn’t been high on her list of priorities.
She lifted her free hand to shield her face as the golden glare of the dying sun bounced off the wall of glass across the street and straight into her eyes.
The view from her window was so very different to the one she’d enjoyed when working at her father’s atelier. Francois’ design space took up the entire top floor of the family home, a sixteenth century period chateau in Marly-le-Roi, just outside of Paris. There the lookout afforded sweeping views of the French countryside as well as the estate’s immaculately maintained formal gardens. Visitors often remarked that the Royal family home was not unlike a miniature version of the palace of Versailles.
The thought of France tugged at Camille’s heart. America was the land of opportunity, but it wasn’t home.
One day I will go back to Paris and set up my own design workshop.
And when she did, it would be on her own terms. Her father would have to finally acknowledge that his rebellious daughter was worthy of her own success. That she was more than just another cog in his creative machine.
My designs and creations matter. My dreams are not ridiculous.
She shouldn’t care, but the burning need for his approval was something she’d never been able to escape. She’d come here to New York intending to make her mark in the world of fashion, but with every stitch she sewed into her designs Camille still felt the presence of Francois Royal. Sensed her father looking over her shoulder as she labored on her garments.
There were times when she was certain she could hear his voice, offering up his opinions of her work. “Tsk. That particular cut was in my winter collection fifteen years ago. Everything you think you create as something fresh was inspired by me. Nothing is completely yours, Camille.”
She turned from the window. For a moment she stood taking in the silence. On any other day of the work week, Hope’s music selection would be bouncing off the walls. Her former PA’s enduring love for all things Rihanna and Nicki Minaj had formed the soundtrack for the past two years of Camille’s fashion collections. Now there was only the sound of the air-conditioning unit clicking on and the faint rumble of city traffic drifting up from the street below.
Hope had left a big hole when she’d walked out the door. One which was going to take a lot to fill.
“Merde,” she whispered, fighting back the tears. Until the past day, she’d never fully understood what Americans meant when they talked about having been sucker punched . Her wounded pride had dark bruises from where she’d been hit.
Hurt feelings and all, Camille still felt an obligation to Hope. To reach out a hand and let her know that if she ever needed help, her former boss would be there for her.
Neil wouldn’t let Camille within fifty feet of his new wife, but that wouldn’t stop her. Picking up her phone, she called the gift service team at the luxury department store Bergdorf Goodman. A beautifully wrapped wedding gift would have to do the talking for her. She had to let Hope know that she was still important, and that no one had given up on her.
As soon as she had finished placing the order for a set of crystal wine glasses, the weight of the day lifted from Camille’s shoulders. If Hope chose not to respond to the lavish gift, that was her prerogative. But Camille felt a sense of relief in knowing that she’d tried to do the right thing.
“Who knows they might well be perfectly happy together. Maybe Neil was right, and I was the problem,” muttered Camille, not believe a word of it.
She startled as the screen on her cell phone lit up once more. Google happily announced that she was the lucky recipient of an email from Bryce Royal.
Subject. Ryan Collins CV. He looks good.
Check attachment.
“Bryce is impressed. That’s a great sign.”
Her cousin had high and exacting standards. If he thought Ryan was worthy of a shot, then it meant that his referees had all said good things about him. She opened the email and after downloading the attachment, sent it to the printer. If Ryan could pick up some of the workload that Hope used to manage, it would save her a ton of time.
“And my sanity,” she muttered.
Camille stood by the printer reading the sheets of paper as they printed out. Ryan’s CV was short enough, but it still had plenty of detail. He’d clearly thought about what working for her might actually involve and had highlighted those aspects within his past employment experience.
He’d had a steady work history. Had supervised staff. Met deadlines. All the things she needed. If he could handle most of the fashion week planning and coordinate with the event staff, she could then focus on the garments.
Her phone rang and the name on the screen read. brYCE
“Hi Bryce.”
“Hey. Did you get my email? I looked over Ryan’s CV and I think we might have a new employee for you.”
“Yes. That was fast.” She hadn’t even opened Ryan’s original email, and Bryce had not only read it but decided he liked the idea of hiring him.
Bryce was used to managing large teams of people, and all the drama that came with it. Before taking over as CEO of the US operations for Royal Resorts he’d been in charge of a number of major projects in the UK and Europe. His minions had their own teams of minions. The most she’d ever managed was one staff member.
And that hadn’t ended well.
Her cousin had the tough business exterior which Camille was yet to develop. He’d been the one who had wrangled the deals, got the blood thirsty company lawyers crawling all over the contracts the department stores offered her. He’d even negotiated with his father when he’d purchased this studio and apartment for Camille’s company, making sure they’d got the best deal possible.
“I think he’s worth taking on for the fashion week gig. I called a couple of people I know in the industry, and they all had good words to say about Ryan.” There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone, then Bryce added, “Trust your gut on this one Camille. I know you’ve been burned by what Hope did, but you have to put that behind you and move forward. Getting ready for fashion week and your new collections should be your focus. Having someone to take over the planning and the admin pieces is crucial.”
Little wonder Bryce had been chosen to take over from his father and manage a billion dollar resort and hotel business. Some people had the right instincts, and he was one of them.
Unlike her father, Bryce had always had her back.
“Thank you. It’s great to have someone who can cut through all the chaos and tell me exactly what I need to hear.”
Regroup. Refocus. Get on with making fashion week a success.
She picked up the last piece of Ryan’s CV from off the printer and ran her gaze over it. On paper he looked like a guy who could get things done. “Ok. I will give Ryan a call, and see when he can start. In the meantime, I’ll liaise with the Royal Resorts human resources people and get the legal stuff sorted and a contract ready for him. Once that’s done, I’ll give IT a call.”
Navigating the US and NYC employment laws were well beyond her skillset, but having Bryce as an investor meant that for a monthly fee, she had access to the resources of the main US based family business. They would be able to handle all the complex paperwork and IT connections.
I just want someone who can come in here, take that horrible spreadsheet off my hands, and let me get on with getting ready for my debut at fashion week.
“I would suggest a four month contract, with easy exit clauses just in case things don’t work out.” Bryce cleared his throat. “And you should review access to bank accounts and payroll. The fact that Hope was able to pay herself an unapproved bonus is a major red flag.”
“Thank you. Yeah, I guess I was a little na?ve when it came to what I allowed her to do,” replied Camille.
She wouldn’t make that mistake a second time. Ryan wouldn’t be doing his own pay, and nor would he have access to the bank account. The next person who came to work for her would have to earn her trust.
“Don’t be too hard on yourself Camille. After the mess that Jordan made with the Laguna Beach resort launch, I think we’ve all learned the hard way that the best thing we can do when we are faced with a tough situation is to ask for help. I’m just glad that you trust me enough to be there for you.”
“Thanks Bryce.”
As she hung up the phone, Camille let out a sigh of relief. Grateful that Bryce had her back, and even more grateful that she might have already found Hope’s replacement in Ryan.
When her phone buzzed a minute later, she was relieved to see it was Sophie who was calling. She put the phone on speaker. “Hey you. You won’t believe the day I have had.”
“Really do tell.”