Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Camille headed back downstairs to her apartment. She had a promise to keep with her sister in Paris.
Opening her iPad up on the kitchen counter she popped her earbuds in, then hit the video link on the secure Royal family website. For other people she used commercial apps like Facetime, but for family conversations she always went via the encrypted international link.
There was a momentary delay, then a familiar face framed with long chestnut hair appeared on the screen. “Bonjour!” Sophie waved to Camille from the other side of the North Atlantic.
“Hi, sorry I am late in calling. It’s been a busy day.”
It was midnight in Paris, so for Sophie, the night was still young. While Camille was one for getting out of bed and on with the day as early as possible, her sister was an unapologetic night owl.
I’m so glad to see your smiling face.
“How is your new employee going? Wasn’t he starting today? And did Ryan mention the tv show? Tell me everything, mon chéri.”
There were no secrets between the twins. Sophie knew all about Camille’s reality television crush from four years ago, and that she had somehow hired that same guy to work for her.
Camille’s gaze went to the door which led to the stairs between the two levels. She had closed it. She had ear buds in. But still… If Ryan knew that she was talking about him she’d die of embarrassment.
“Actually I brought it up. It just seemed the best thing to do. But I could tell he was uncomfortable when I mentioned it. He said the show was all scripted; and he knew he wasn’t going to win. We agreed to let it go and never talk about it again.”
Sophie’s dark eyebrows rose. “Do you believe him? I mean I watched the show on YouTube, and he didn’t come across as the sort of guy who hides his emotions all that well. He did cry when Kaylee chose the other guy.”
Did she believe him? Camille instinctively shook her head. No, she didn’t buy the whole scripted thing for one minute. The producers of Bachelors on the Beach might have tried to hide him behind that blond Thor personae, but the real Ryan Collins had still shone through.
“Anyway. We are not talking about the show which shall not be named. How are things at home?”
Sophie rolled her eyes in disgust. “You are not getting away with changing the subject so easily. If you want gossip from home, you need to tell me more about Ryan.”
“Like what?”
“Like, is he still cute? And did your heart go pitter patter when he showed up this morning?”
Covering her face with her hands, Camille let out a moan. She didn’t want to answer that question. Truth be told she didn’t know how to answer it.
Was she still attracted to Ryan?
“Cami?”
Dropping her hands, Camille refused to look at the camera. “I…I don’t know what to say. He doesn’t have his long white hair anymore, but…oh.”
The Ryan of today was more ruggedly handsome than the Ryan of four years ago. And in the flesh the physical attraction was stronger than anything she’d felt watching him on tv.
“It’s really nice having him around. But.” She let out a sigh. “I think it might also be dangerous. Sophie, I don’t trust myself with him.”
There she’d said it. Put her fear into words. Her sister was right on point with her question. Whenever Ryan was close, Camille’s heart did go pitter patter.
“Are you going to keep him? I mean can you work with that sort of temptation. Keep things professional.”
Through the camera Camille met Sophie’s gaze once more. “It’s not his fault that I can’t resist him. This is something I have to learn to control. To overcome. So yes, I need him to stay.”
Sophie nodded. “Ok, just let me know if things get out of hand, and you need me to talk you out of doing something stupid.”
“Thanks. Now could you please save my sanity and tell me what’s happening in Paris.” She really missed her sister, these precious moments were the highlight of her week. Filling her in on what was happening at home, helped keep Camille sane.
“Ok. What’s been happening? Ooh!! You will love this. Earlier today I overheard Papa talking to one of the couturières, and he mentioned to her that what you had done with Chloe’s wedding gown was to a workable standard. And get this…he said that your beading was sufficient.”
Camille was lost for words. Workable. Sufficient. That was high praise indeed from their father.
Not that he would ever speak them to my face.
Sophie sighed. “You do know he is secretly proud of you. Unlike me, who is just another person for Papa to shake his head at when the fabric doesn’t fall exactly how he wants.”
Her sister, as always, was selling herself short. Sophie was the one member of their family who had it in them to take over the haute couture business from Francois. She had the patience and temperament to deal with the exacting requirements of high fashion. Something which Camille had never possessed.
“Remind me of that when you eventually take Paris by storm, and the fashion elite whispers Sophie Royal in the same sentence as Saint Laurent,” replied Camille.
Camille was certain that her sister would eventually reach those dizzying heights. She just had to begin to believe in herself.
And push back on Papa when he won’t listen.
Her sister leaned in closer to the camera. “Speaking of whispers. News of you having landed a slot at New York fashion week has apparently reached some very important ears over here, and tongues are now wagging.”
Camille’s greatest hope was that if she managed to pull off the New York gig, then it might open some doors for her back home in France. She would love nothing more than to showcase her work in front of the world at Paris fashion week. New York was big, but nothing could beat the behemoth that was Paris.
She didn’t want to hear what those tongues were saying about her right now. The industry was a tough one, and there were plenty of people who only viewed her success through an imperfect lens. That without her Royal connections and family money she was nothing.
The fact that I work my ass off and might actually have some talent doesn’t come into it.
Camille understood her privilege. She’d had more opportunities than other designers, and had a safety net if she failed. But she wouldn’t go changing her name or her heritage just to placate others.
I am who I am, and I’m not going to waste my life.
“Speaking of Paris fashion week, have you given any further thought to asking Papa to support your bid for a show?” asked Camille.
Sophie was a clever designer, the pieces she had put together on her own over the years were breathtaking in their craftsmanship. The one thing her sister lacked was the self-belief to strike out on her own.
“I will mention it to him, but you know how things are…” Sophie trailed off. Sometimes Camille wished she could reach through the computer screen and take her sister firmly by the shoulders. Shake some sense into her.
“Ok, but if I get this New York runway show to work, then you and I are going to talk about Paris. And if that means me having to fly home and the two of us facing down Papa together, in order to make it happen, then I will do it.”
The brief nod of agreement she got in reply from Sophie said it all. Her sister was ready to change the subject and talk about other things. Anything that didn’t involve her halfhearted attempts to move out of their father’s shadow.
Camille checked the time, it was now well after eight in New York, which meant it was already Saturday in Paris. “I’d better let you go, I assume you have a dance club to get to shortly. While my Friday night fun will be having a call with the button gnomes in Zurich.”
Sophie winced. Trying to discuss the nuances of color shades with the Swiss supplier was never easy. One summer in a fit of rage, their father had taken the family jet and flown all the way to Zurich to do battle with the button people over the official color code for gold. Francois had of course won.
“Alright. Take care. I’ll talk to you sometime next week. I’ll be interested to see how your new employee settles in and if you can move past your old crush on him.”
Sophie’s words gave Camille a moment of pause. She’d had a thing for Ryan when he’d been on the show. At the time she had put it down to needing something to anchor herself to in the middle of the stormy changes in her life. A harmless cute guy/Thor fantasy on the tv, which hadn’t been real.
But today, Ryan Collins had been real. He was working for her. The success of her New York fashion week show could well depend on how good a job he did over the next three months, and the weeks following the show.
This has to be about business, nothing more.
At the end of the four months she would review his performance, and if he had exceeded expectations, she would talk to Bryce about a possible role for Ryan within the Royal Resorts USA business.
“I’ve employed him to do a job. And I’d be a complete idiot if I let any attraction to Ryan get in the way of me succeeding at fashion week. I swear there won’t be any naked romps happening in my design studio. Come Monday morning, our relationship is going to be based purely on business.”
I have the whole weekend to get my libido and heart under control. I can do it. I have to do it.
“Purely business,” echoed her sister. Sophie’s mocking laughter rang down the satellite link as Camille hit END.
Ryan finished up the last of the emails in Hope’s inbox. For someone who was meant to have been super organized, Camille’s former PA had signed up to a ton of what he considered to be useless newsletter services. He now knew far more than he had ever wanted to know about Hope’s interests in cheap travel, festive food, and beanie baby collecting.
He was still silently judging her as he hit print on a recipe for Halloween cake pops. The apartment he and Liam lived in might well be a dump, but no kids out trick or treating ever left empty handed if they knocked on the door. October might be a few months away, but it never hurt to be prepared.
As he retrieved his jacket from the closet, the sound of someone talking in a foreign language drifted up the stairs. Ryan listened. It was a phone call, and if he wasn’t mistaken, the speaker was talking in German. He did a double take when Camille then answered the caller back in faultless German.
I really should get back onto Duolingo.
He’d just slipped his arm into the sleeve of his jacket when Camille suddenly flipped back into English. “How soon can you have them made and sent to me here in the US?”
Ah, yes, the button call. But that was scheduled for…
Quickly checking his phone, Ryan quietly swore. It was well after eight, almost nine o’clock. He was meant to have been home hours ago. Friday night was his turn to cook. He could only hope Liam had gone ahead and made himself a grilled cheese sandwich.
He fired off a quick text.
Sorry. Day 1 of job. Got busy. C U soon. Takeout?
Liam’s reply pinged back before Ryan had finished putting on his jacket.
At airport. Just got photo gig in Tahiti. C U when I get back.
So his brother wouldn’t be lying on the couch in a state of desperate hunger when Ryan walked through the door. Liam was about to leave the country.
“Yay. Which means I am off the hook for cooking steak and fries for the next while,” muttered Ryan.
Liam wasn’t one for trying new dishes, whereas Ryan loved nothing more than grabbing a cookbook and experimenting. Right now he was imagining a big stir fry. A plate piled high with chicken, carrots, and broccoli smothered in hot pineapple ginger sauce.
Yum.
He licked his lips. If he hurried for the next train, he might make the grocery store before it closed.
Ryan moved toward the door, just as Camille appeared at the top of the stairs. She took one look at him and laughed. “This is beginning to feel a little like déjà vu. Every time I think you’ve gone home, I come up here, and find you still at your desk,” she said.
He nodded toward his laptop. “The emails took longer than I thought to get them sorted. Then I kinda got carried away with adding them to the scheduling app. Figured it would make for a clean start on Monday.”
Her long fair hair was mussed, and since he’d last seen her, Camille had pinned it up in a lazy sexy bun. The cute black loafers with the yellow lightning bolts she’d been rocking all day were gone. Camille’s feet were bare. His gaze lingered on the gold sparkly nail polish which decorated her toes.
Ryan’s mind was suddenly filled with the vision of a bedroom on a warm summer’s afternoon. The white curtains which framed a nearby window billowing in a soft sea breeze. Camille who was dressed in a long floral gown, wore an enticing come hither smile. One meant only for him. Any moment now she would step into his embrace.
He blinked the Ralph Lauren homewares catalog away.
She is my boss.
A gentle smile formed on Camille’s lips, and it took all of Ryan’s self-control not to let the Hamptons lifestyle fantasy slip back into his mind.
“Have you eaten? I’m sorry that your first day went so long. I have food downstairs if you want to grab a bite to eat before you leave. Please. I only reheated the fish and vegetables in the steamer oven twenty minutes ago, so they’re still hot.”
He really should say no. Should go get on a subway train. When it arrived at East Orange station he should head to the grocery store, then go home.
Only then could he take a long cold shower. And do his best to forget that he would like nothing more than to suck the delicately painted toes of his new employer.
He really should go home.
A sensible man would do just that, but when it came to Camille Royal, Ryan was fast discovering that his mind went to mush whenever she was near. The scent of her perfume had his capacity for rational decision making going straight out the window.
Before he knew what he was doing, he was following her downstairs and into her apartment.