Chapter 26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
A sleek black town car was waiting for them outside the building early the following morning. Leaning casually against the curbside passenger door was a red headed woman, who waved at Ryan as he stepped through the front door.
“Good morning, Ryan, all ready to go?” she said. Her Scottish accent gave her away. It was Sheila. Bryce’s executive assistant.
Before he could stop her, she had wrapped her arms around him and placed a kiss on his cheek. “You are a brave laddie, I’ll give you that. No one else has been able to get Camille out of the city for a wee vacation since the day she arrived. You managing to talk her into spending two weeks on an island is a bloody miracle.”
Camille, who was following close behind Ryan, simply shook her head. “Just tell me you have all of the emergency services on speed dial.”
She set the dressmakers dummy she’d been carrying down onto the sidewalk. Ryan caught the odd looks the mannequin got from a few of pedestrians who passed them by.
Hey, this is New York, I’m sure you’ve all seen stranger things on the street.
He certainly had.
He’d barely stepped out of Sheila’s embrace before she and Camille had launched themselves into one another’s arms. Ryan watched with amusement as they proceeded to engage in some European cheek kissing, laughing as they did.
“Don’t worry Camille, we have your medical records on file. The second you so much as break a fingernail we will have doctors scrambled for action.”
He turned his head and tried not to laugh. From his phone calls and emails with Sheila, Ryan had quickly gathered she didn’t have much of a filter. Bryce’s executive assistant spoke her mind. She was blunt. But she was also clever and quick witted.
A grinning Camille patted Sheila on the cheek. “Good. And make sure you have blood donors ready.”
Watching these two women and their playful exchange warmed Ryan’s heart. He got a glimpse of the Camille he suspected lay beneath her overworked exterior.
The beach will do Camille a world of good. Now I just need to play my part and do whatever I can to support her.
While the two women continued to chat, Ryan helped the driver load the bags along with the two large boxes which contained Camille’s drafting sketchbooks and fabrics, into the trunk.
Last night as he’d gone to pack his own travel bag, it had occurred to him that he didn’t have enough clothes to last for two weeks. A hurried trip to the apartment in East Orange meant he’d arrived back at West 28 th Street a little before five this morning.
He’d managed to find one of Liam’s old suitcases and press that into use, but it was only now as he stood outside in the early morning light and looked at his brother’s battered case that Ryan finally noticed it’s poor condition.
He was travelling with a woman who hailed from a family of billionaires, and whose elegant luggage was clearly handmade, while his own…
This is embarrassing.
But in true Camille style she’d simply taken one look at the well-travelled case and given him a hopeful grin. “I bet that has seen a few countries, and can tell some great stories.”
Ryan didn’t have the heart to tell her that not only did this suitcase belong to someone else, but he also didn’t own a passport. The farthest he’d been from East Orange was the beach in Florida where they had filmed Bachelors on the Beach . His grand plans to use his prize money to travel the world had been cut short the day his pride had floated out into the warm waters of the Gulf of Mexico.
Camille handed him the dress makers dummy. “Be careful with this, it’s got a lot of dials. And they have been carefully preset for my sample size.”
Ryan peeked inside the trunk of the town car and screwed up his face. There was no way it was going to fit. He turned to Camille. “This will have to ride on the seat between us I’m afraid.”
She and Sheila exchanged one final farewell embrace, then Camille got into the car. Ryan gave Sheila a tip of his head. “I promise to bring her back in one piece.”
“You’d better. Because if you don’t, you’ll have Bryce and me to contend with. And then when we’re done Camille’s parents will finish off what’s left of you. Which won’t be much.”
A chuckling Ryan scooted around to the passenger door on the opposite side of the car, and climbed on board.
With the dress makers dummy nestled on the seat between them, Ryan put on his seatbelt. He then took the time to buckle up the model, promising that if it behaved itself, they would stop for snacks on the way. Camille’s already broad smile broke into a laugh. “No food around the fabric or the mannequin, remember?”
It was good to see that Camille was more relaxed today. Yesterday she’d been like a cat on a hot tin roof, strange and edgy. He’d been genuinely worried about her mental health when she’d suddenly announced that the current design collection wasn’t good enough, and that she was thinking of starting all over again.
This morning she seemed to be more even tempered, and rational. The original collection would remain, but she would take the time they were on the island to add a couple of new and innovative pieces to help tie it all into the Cinderella in the City theme.
As the car pulled away from the curb and into the early morning Manhattan traffic Ryan caught a final glimpse of Sheila waving farewell to them. He waved back, then relaxed into the plush leather seat, ready for the long drive out to Fire Island. He couldn’t find fault with Camille’s choice of transport. This was the height of luxury.
I could get so easily used to this sort of living. But one day this will all end, and I’ll be back using the subway trains. Back to living in my crappy old apartment.
He’d just gotten comfortable when the car turned into a parking lot and slowed to a smooth stop. Ryan glanced at Camille. “Are we picking something else up?”
She shook her head. “No. We are the ones getting picked up. Come on.”
The driver opened Camille’s passenger door, and she stepped out. Through the open doorway, Ryan could see the glistening waters of the Hudson River. Were they travelling by boat?
And then he saw the helicopter.
His own passenger side door was opened, and a suited attendant greeted him. “Mister Collins. Welcome to the West 30 th Street Heliport. May I take your luggage?”
He sheepishly handed over the dress makers dummy, but noticed that the attendant didn’t so much as bat an eyelid.
I expect she sees all manner of unusual things each day.
Coming to where Camille stood waiting, Ryan pointed toward the shiny silver helicopter. “Is that for us?”
She nodded. “Yes. You said I could organize the transport, and this made the most sense. We won’t waste time in traffic, and we can be at the guesthouse by mid-morning.”
He glanced nervously at the helicopter once more. “How long is the flight?”
“Forty minutes, door to door. Sheila explained that cars aren’t really much use where we are going, so we’ll be getting taken as close as possible to the guesthouse, then walking from there. Apparently, they’ll provide us with a small hand cart we can use to carry our luggage over to the house. Which sounds fun.”
Now he understood why the rental people had asked about their needs, and what they planned to eat during their two week stay. In true Ryan fashion, he’d sent them a detailed list.
Apparently, there was a small grocery store not far from the house, along with a handful of restaurants who offered a delivery service. Using Ryan’s list, the housekeeper would make arrangements to stock the fridge and pantry.
I can’t wait to get cooking in a proper kitchen.
He had to keep reminding himself that this vacation wasn’t about him. It was a place where Camille would hopefully have the time to restore her energy and mind. Their carefully vetted accommodation in Saltaire was located in a private part of the island, a little out of the way of the main tourist areas.
And that’s all that matters. Though the idea of getting about the island on foot sounds fun.
But as he continued to stare at the helicopter, fun was the furthest thing from Ryan’s mind. The blades of the chopper were now spinning at high speed, cutting through the air. His stomach did a half turn.
Camille lay a hand on his arm. “Are you ok?”
Confession time. He’d been on a couple of plane flights in his life, but they had all been in large commercial jets. Before each of those, he’d chugged down several large shots of booze. Anything to deaden his pre-flight nerves.
And now here he was, about to get into a helicopter with his boss. The boss who was relying on him. The boss he was slowly but surely falling for.
If he threw up in the chopper, he’d never live it down.
Ryan let out a shaky breath. “I don’t have much flying experience. And the sight of that helicopter, kinda makes me nervous.”
Camille’s grip on his upper arm tightened a little, offering comfort. “Then we will take it easy. I was going to get them to serve us a hot beverage and a fresh pastry on the flight, but we won’t do that now.”
He turned to her, teeth gritted. “Thanks.”
Camille had meant this helicopter flight to be a special treat for Ryan, a little thank you for his support. The plan was for them to indulge in freshly brewed coffee and almond croissants as they flew over the city, taking in the sights.
She took in the ashen color of Ryan’s face, and turned to signal to their driver. They wouldn’t be needing the food or the coffee.
She’d spent her entire life flying in private planes and small helicopters, so the thought that Ryan might not be a good flyer simply hadn’t entered her mind.
I hate seeing him like this, maybe we should cancel the chopper.
“We could ask the town car to take us most of the way to the island, then grab the ferry. Or we could just cancel and go somewhere else,” she offered.
Ryan sucked in a deep breath. “No, we can take the helicopter. I’ll manage. I have to overcome my issues with flying at some point.”
She was unwavering in her desire to show him that he had her full sympathy. She took a hold of Ryan’s hand. “Come with me. But if you change your mind before we take off, just say so. We can make other arrangements.”
The entrance to the heliport was a short walk from the carpark. They followed the marked safety lines which were painted on the tarmac all the way to the edge of the helipad. Camille held Ryan’s hand every step of the way. If anyone bothered to take a closer look at them, they would simply see a couple holding hands. A casual sign of affection, nothing more.
Everything looked calm on the surface, but Camille’s heart was thumping hard in her chest. Being this close to Ryan and knowing they were about to spend two weeks alone on an island had sent desire coursing through her body.
This isn’t about me. This isn’t about me. Worry about him and what he needs.
As they neared the helicopter Ryan’s steps slowed and Camille turned to face him. She moved closer. It was hard to hear above the noise of the chopper’s rotating blades. She rose up on her toes and spoke directly into his ear. “I’ve flown with these people a number of times before. Bryce uses them to take him up to the private jet airfield at Teterboro. If the Royal family thought, there was any sort of risk with using this helicopter service they would cancel the contract.”
Ryan nodded. “Thanks. I know me being weird about flying is— well weird.” He sighed. “I just need to get my head around the whole thing.”
She didn’t let go of his hand. “I will be with you the whole way. We can ask the pilot to give us a bit of a tour of the city as we fly over. Point out some landmarks. What do you think?” Distraction was always a good way to settle nervous flyers. Anything to shift their mind from thoughts of imminent death.
“Could we fly past the Statue of Liberty?” he asked.
Camille glanced in the direction of the helicopter, and the flight attendant who stood waiting patiently for them to approach. “I’ll ask. Are there any other places you’d like to see?”
The color slowly returned to Ryan’s face, and his throat bobbed as he swallowed. “I’d love to fly over the hotel where I used to work as a barista. It would be fun to wave at my old boss.”
“Done. Come on let’s get on board, and run through the safety checks. Then you can give the pilot the address you’d like us to fly over.”
Camille, who’d always had other people looking after her, was suddenly filled with an urgent need to protect this man. To keep Ryan safe.
As they took their seats in the helicopter and the flight attendant strapped Ryan in, Camille made a silent promise to herself. When fashion week was over, she’d find a way to keep Ryan in her life. Offer him the chance at a real career path. And even if they only stayed friends, it would be worth it to see him succeed.