Chapter 38
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
New York City
Two weeks later
There really should be a law against a guy looking as good in a simple business suit as Ryan did right now. She’d been around the highest level of tailoring her entire life, but nothing had prepared her for the vision of hot maleness which now stood before her.
Camille couldn’t help herself; she licked her lips. She wasn’t hungry or thirsty. It was just the sight of him which had her secretly craving the taste of his naked body.
Earlier in the day, she’d taken Ryan to Brooks Brothers clothes store, on Madison Avenue and bought him his first ready to wear suit. The moment he’d slipped the deep blue jacket on, Camille knew they’d found the perfect look.
Back at her apartment, she helped him dress for their special evening out on the town. As Ryan fixed his tie in the dressing room mirror, something occurred to her.
This was no longer just her apartment. The day they’d returned to New York, Ryan had slept in Camille’s bed. He’d continued sharing it every night since then. Their agreement had been an unspoken one, sealed with their bodies as they tangled naked in the sheets.
Tonight was special. They were going out on a date together. Their secret island fling was stepping out from the shadows and into the real world.
I really should tell him how I feel.
Their relationship had now become such an important part of her life. Ryan had come to mean more to Camille than she’d ever thought a man could, but if they were going to move their connection forward, they were going to have to tread very carefully. There would be people who’d question both of their motives for being together.
Camille didn’t care what others thought, but she wasn’t a fool. She’d be the one judged for having fallen for her personal assistant.
But as she stood in their bedroom, dressed only in a bra and panty set, she couldn’t summon enough worry about the future to stop aching for Ryan’s touch. For his love.
Her whole body thrummed with need. When had she become so susceptible to the power of a dark blue suit? The white button down shirt matched with a blue and white floral tie had her knees all but trembling. And those silver cufflinks that he was quietly fiddling with had her swallowing deep.
Ryan Collins in a t-shirt and jeans was hot enough.
In a suit, he smoldered.
How am I going to get through a whole evening without all that heat making me spontaneously combust?
She tried focusing on the other parts of his attire. His shoes. Nope. They were the sexiest pair of black Oxfords she’d ever seen.
A warm hand took hold of her chin and lifted her face. “Hey, you are a million miles away. Come back to me.”
I’m always near.
Camille met Ryan’s gorgeous face. “I asked if you liked my new suit. I’ve never owned one like this before, and it feels— so good.”
Good. Was he serious? She could think of a hundred other words in both English and French to describe how Ryan looked right now. Good didn’t even begin to describe what a two thousand dollar suit did to a man. But with Ryan the suit had plenty to work with right from the start. The fabric was simply adding the final touches to what was already a seriously handsome man.
Camille nodded. “I’m glad you let me talk you into going with the top of the line collection for your first off-the-rack suit. Next time, we’ll fly to my cousin’s workshop in Milan and have one tailormade for you.”
Now that she’d managed to get Ryan into a suit, she had plans of making sure he had more than one in his wardrobe.
His finger hooked into the front of her pale cream lace bra, and he pulled her to him. “I think I know what you were thinking about. You were thinking of ways to keep from getting dressed. You’re hoping that I might be tempted to bend you over the end of the bed and fuck you before we leave for dinner.”
God, I love it when it talks to me like that. So dirty, so filthy.
A soft kiss touched her lips. “But for once, you’re not going to get your wicked way. You didn’t feed me while we were out shopping this afternoon, and I’m starving. So go get dressed.”
Camille’s pouted her lips in mock annoyance, and received a firm smack on her ass for her sexy impertinence. It went straight to her sex.
Ryan lent in close and whispered into her ear. “The sooner we eat, the sooner we can come back here, and I can bury my face between your legs. Now be a good girl and go get dressed.”
He knew exactly how to make her behave. The promise of a long night of heated sex had Camille hurrying to slip into a silver shift dress from one of her previous department store collections.
Closing the clasp on her large hoop earring, she stared at herself in the mirror. Lust and a surprising amount of nerves coursed through her body. They’d slept together before. Shared meals. Tonight however was the first time they were going out in public as a couple.
Don’t be so anxious.
She couldn’t help herself. This was a huge step. The rest of the people in the restaurant might not know who either of them were, but in her world, the Royal world, going out in public with a lover was a big deal. If she’d still been in France, her parents would have wanted to meet Ryan.
I’m thirty one and this is the first time I’ve gone on a proper date.
Ryan, god love him, seemed to have a sixth sense about her. He’d caught the scent of her fear.
His warm hands scooped her hair up from off her shoulders and he bent and placed a scorching kiss at the nape of her neck. A shiver raced down Camille’s spine. She closed her eyes, ready to let him do with her what he wished. She’d happily let him feast on her, and then pay the huge restaurant cancellation fee later.
“Now, I want you to put on a pair of your killer heels. And if you behave all through dinner, I’ll let you dig them into my back when I fuck you senseless the second, we get home,” he growled.
How on earth was she going to get through this evening without melting into a puddle of unsated lust?
Ryan had read all the reviews for the GT Tavern in Manhattan, knew it was a two star Michelin restaurant, but his detailed research didn’t help prepare him for the opulent sight which met his gaze as he and Camille stepped out of the elevator on the 80 th floor of the soaring tower in lower Manhattan. The wide panoramic view of New York City at night had him fighting not to open his mouth like a gaping fish.
He sucked in a deep breath and sent a silent prayer to heaven.
Lord please don’t let me spill anything on my shirt or jacket tonight.
Camille of course was comfortable in such a place. She happily chatted away to the ma?tre 'd as he checked their booking, leaving Ryan doing his best to appear calm and collected. As they followed the waiter to their table, Camille took Ryan by the hand. He gave her fingers a grateful squeeze.
His earlier words of demand and hot lust were just that right now—a promise to make Camille scream his name when she came in his arms later in the evening. But the sheer elegance and wealth on display in the restaurant quickly stripped Ryan of all his bravado.
I’m nothing more than a guy from East Orange, New Jersey, in a two thousand dollar suit.
As soon as they were seated at their table, Camille ordered them both a glass of champagne. Ryan wasn’t a big drinker of sparkling wine, but right now he’d take anything that helped to calm his nerves.
They sat side by side, knees touching under the table in a cozy high backed booth which faced out to the dining room. Ryan’s jacket was unbuttoned, and while he did everything, he could to appear relaxed and at ease, it took all his strength not to wipe his sweaty palms on the top of his brand new Italian wool pants. Camille put a hand on his knee, but it still shook.
In his old career, he’d never even been good enough to get his CV through the front door of a place like this. Even bus boys had to fight to work at the GT Tavern.
He was sucking in deep calming breaths when the click of a phone’s camera caught his attention. At a nearby table they’d passed on their way in, another patron was making a less than subtle attempt to take pictures of them.
They might be taking Camille’s photograph.
But then Ryan’s mind shifted back to the woman at the mini mart on Fire Island. She’d definitely been taking his picture. But why? Why the sudden renewed interest in him?
“What’s wrong?” asked Camille.
He hadn’t mentioned it at the time, but this was the second time in as many weeks that someone had pointed their camera in his direction and snapped off a photo. It didn’t make sense. As far as he was concerned Ryan Collins was old news.
“Something weird is happening,” he muttered.
“What’s weird?”
Keeping things from Camille wasn’t something he ever wished to do. If people had suddenly started taking an interest in him once again, she had the right to know.
“The couple at the table to our right has been taking photos of us. I wouldn’t have thought anything about it, but on one of our days on Fire Island I was standing in line to pay for the milk at the grocery store and I spotted a woman pointing her phone at me. I’m one hundred and ten percent certain she was snapping off a few pictures.”
Camille gave a furtive glance in the direction of the other table, then slowly looked back to Ryan. “They are definitely up to something. Lots of looking this way, then pretending they are reading the menu. Did you want me to go over there and confront them?”
The thought of his billionaire boss/lover going toe to toe with some strangers in an upmarket restaurant sent Ryan’s anxiety racing to the edge of panic.
“Oh god don’t do that, then we really would give them something to photograph. It could be bad press for your runway show,” he whispered.
Camille’s brows knitted into a scowl. “No body in this city knows who I am. I have lived as a virtual hermit for four years. You are the one who has a public profile. I’m just a blonde in a show-stopping dress.”
She reached out and gave the back of his hand a reassuring pat. “I’ll let you decide how you want to handle this, but if you change your mind…”
Ryan was in no doubt that his feisty French lover would make her displeasure known to the other guests if he asked her to go speak to them.
Their glasses of champagne arrived, and the drinks waiter set them down while another server handed them both their menus. Ryan remained politely silent during all this time, watching the other guests out of the corner of his eye.
The guests in question now had their heads down and appeared to be tapping away on their cell phones. His gut instinct told him they were sending his photo somewhere.
None of this makes sense. Not unless they do happen to know who Camille is, and they’re wondering who the devil I am.
But that wouldn’t explain the woman at the grocery store on the island. Or the cold sensation that was slowly creeping down Ryan’s spine. Had the universe briefly bestowed its grace upon him, only to now decide it was going to take it all back?
Camille lifted her drink, and doing his best to forget about his growing fears, Ryan clinked his glass to hers. “To you Camille, and the success of your runway show.”
“And to you Ryan, thank you for everything you’ve done for me.” Her gaze followed his to where the other diners were now putting their phones away. “They might just remember you from the show. And if they do, they’ve probably forwarded your picture to their close friends. Guess who we saw tonight?”
“Yeah, you’re probably right. It might be simply an uncanny coincidence.” Ryan took a long sip of his champagne. He was determined that no one and nothing was going to spoil this special evening with Camille.
But no matter how hard he tried to push his worries to the back of his mind, they continued to linger. He’d been out of the public eye for almost four years, and now people were suddenly taking his picture.
Tempting as it was to check his socials, he made a point of leaving his cell in his jacket pocket. Whatever was happening on the internet could wait. Tonight was about good food, good wine, and when they were back at the apartment—mind blowing sex.
Please universe, don’t be coming for me. Not when I have found this amazing woman, and I might finally have a chance at love.