Page 10 of All the Drama from New York

As soon as she exited the elevator on the fifth level, Hope marched across the concrete floor. Opening the closet on the far side of the studio, she removed her pinkCamille Royaljacket and carefully hung it up.

Still clutching her tote bag tightly in her hands, she then made her way to her desk. In one fluid motion Hope dropped the bag onto the floor, then slumped into her black leather office chair. She let out a tired sigh. “Why is it that when your career starts to get somewhere your personal life goes all to shit? Is it some strange law of physics?”

Camille, whose only romantic encounters over the past four years had been with fictional men on Netflix, simply shook her head. “I don’t know all that many people who can get both to click at the same time.”

Bryce seemed to have finally sorted out his work life happiness balance. He’d not only met his now fiancée the lovely Vivian at the Royal Resorts Laguna Beach in sunny California, but he’d also returned to New York to take over as CEO of the American operations.

I bet Vivian doesn’t ring him fifty times a day. Then again, she isn’t a control freak like Neil.

Hope clapped her hands together. “Enough with the self-pity! We both need to go and find some hot guys, and get our lives sorted.”

Camille raised an eyebrow. She didn’t need to put her thoughts into words, she knew the truth only too well. Right now, love for her was an impossible dream.

She often worked late into the night, and rarely took a day off. The chances of meeting a man who’d not only love her,but who’d be prepared to play second fiddle to Camille’s high pressure fashion design career were close to nil.

It doesn’t matter, I don’t have time for love.

Camille Royal was thirty one years old and firmly wedded to her career.

She let out a soft sigh as Hope flipped open her laptop and got to work. Distracted and heartsore Hope was hard to watch, but focused Hope was a one woman miracle of organization.

Her PA had a filing and planning system which was such a feat of modern engineering, that if NASA ever got serious about sending a manned mission to Mars, they would save billions of dollars by simply employing Hope.

Not that Camille would be offering up her indispensable PA to them any time soon. Without Hope, she had nothing.

Camille picked up her cell phone and tapped away at it. “I’m ordering us a special lunch from Andre’s. The full French.”

If there was one thing, she knew would help get Hope back into a happier mood it was a five course lunch from Andre’s Bistro on Crosby Street. It, along with the bottle of wine Andre would include with their order, would keep the two of them nicely buzzed and working away all afternoon.

But as Camille set down her phone, a sense of premonition slid down her back. This morning had been an outstanding success. Hope was refusing to take Neil’s calls. Which meant something had to give on the other side. Her Yin had to yield something in order to balance up with the Yang.

She just had to be ready to brace for impact when that shift came.

CHAPTER FIVE

Ryan and Liam sat at opposite ends of the lumpy beige vinyl couch staring at the screens of their respective phones. Their apartment in East Orange, New Jersey wasn’t big enough for two couches, not that either of them were complaining.

They’d stolen the couch from their family’s garage last summer and their parents didn’t seem in any particular hurry to take the musty old family heirloom back. In fact their mother had taken to waving her hands in the air and threatening to disown the pair of them any time they attempted to mention said item of furniture in her presence. The couch had now become his and Liam’s problem.

The warm Tuesday night in June was the usual sort of a Tuesday night. It had been Liam’s turn to cook, so mac n cheese had been on the menu. Ryan was all for trying out new dishes, but at some point, Liam had decided that when it came to home cooking, less was best.

He cooked a mean mac n cheese, a half decent chili bowl, and on the rare occasion he could be bothered firing up the grill, served a respectable medium rare piece of steak. Vegetables were not however part of Liam Collin’s vocabulary.

Living with his brother was a struggle at times. Having worked in some of New York City’s high end hotels Ryan had been spoiled by the chefs in those kitchens. He loved cooking. When his parents had treated him to an online recipe subscription last Christmas, he’d spent hours watching the videos before attempting to recreate the dishes. Liam hadn’t appreciated his efforts.

Ryan glanced at his empty bowl which sat on the nearby coffee table silently hoping Liam would take it with him when he headed to the kitchen. As a barista he spent all day serving people, so by the time he got home, clearing away his own dinner plate was sometimes too much of a stretch. The only thing which usually got him to go and do the dishes was Liam’s insistence on being paid a tip if he had to provide full table service.

“Did you hear the rumor that they are talking about a reunion show?” said Liam, not looking up from his phone.

His brother didn’t need to mention the name of the show in question. They both knew what he was talking about. Ryan glared at Liam for a second, then went back to watching a TikTok video which showcased super expensive watches. He would do anything not to give oxygen to this topic of conversation.

Let it go Liam. Let it fucking-well go.

Ryan hadn’t heard the rumor, but then again, he’d made a point of keeping ‘the show’ off his radar for the past four years. The less he thought about that night on the beach in Florida, the better. A man could only re-live his worst moment of public humiliation and heart break so many times before it finally destroyed him.

Twenty million people had watched as he stood on the beach staring out to sea, waiting for a boat that never came. Even now there were still nights when he’d wake and lay in his bed, staring up at the ceiling, fighting to hold back the painful memories.Kaylee had shattered his heart that night, but even as a river of tears had run down his face, Ryan had steadfastly kept smiling.

He instinctively rubbed at his eyes.

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