Page 34 of All the Drama from New York

This was a sweet deal. Food from a major hotel. Freshly made each day. “If you let me know who I should talk to, I’ll start making sure I’m at the door when they arrive with our lunch each day starting Monday,” said Ryan.

“They will also bring my supper. I’ve already dropped tonight’s food off downstairs. It just makes sense to get my food delivered, since I’m always working. And before you ask, yes, I do pay for it,” replied Camille.

She gets all this great food from the hotel. When can I move in?

“So you don’t have to do groceries or cook for yourself?”

Camille had the good grace to look a touch embarrassed. “No. I’ve never cooked a meal in my entire life. I should be ashamedof that fact, but I’m not. At my family’s home in Paris our full time chef has his own team in the kitchen. My parents host a lot of parties, and functions for special guests.”

He couldn’t imagine living that sort of life. But if someone offered it to him, he wouldn’t complain. And he certainly wouldn’t say no.

“From the day I was born I was granted a life of privilege. But I’ve also been working full time in the fashion trade since I was fourteen. I wasn’t given the opportunity to learn any other life skills. None of my brothers can cook either, but I bet no one has ever taken them to task over it.”

Ouch.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound like I was judging you. I know plenty of people who get their food ordered in.”

Camille waved his apology away with a sly smile. “Who knows. Maybe if your planning app really does save us a ton of time, you could teach me how to boil an egg. But first you’d have to show me where the stove top is in the kitchen.”

He was jealous of the way she lived, but he was also impressed that Camille owned her life. She was unapologetic about her family background. About her privilege. From what he’d seen of her work online it was clear she invested all her time and her talents to her creative pursuits. She had taken the opportunities she’d been given, and then created her own.

And she’s right. A guy wouldn’t be held up to the same scrutiny over a lack of domestic skills as a woman would be. Which makes me a jealous, judgmental pig.

Camille picked up her Korean egg sandwich. “This kitchen is too small to fit a table and chairs, so we usually eat at our desks,” she explained. “Now that is one thing, I am ashamed to admit. In France everyone goes out to eat lunch. But in New York, I do as the Americans do and work through the middle of the day.”

She nodded toward the metal cutting table and mannequins. “But we keep food away from the designs. The last thing I need is sticky fingers on the fabrics. We can eat, and then we wash our hands thoroughly afterwards.”

Ryan carried his egg drop soup carefully over to his desk, moving a few things out of the way before setting the bowl down. Camille didn’t bother with the soup, rather she went straight to the egg drop sandwich.

Once they were both seated at their respective desks, which faced one another. Ryan posed his next question. “Can I ask you something?”

“If it’s about cookbooks, no I don’t own any.”

“That’s not what I was going to ask. I happened to notice you have Chloe Fisher as the screen saver and wallpaper on the work laptops. I read online that you designed her wedding gown. I don’t know her music all that well, but it must have been amazing working with the world’s biggest popstar.”

Camille smiled. “Actually the screen savers are more about the outfits she’s wearing. I created the costumes for Chloe’s Las Vegas residency last year, and I’m super proud to have done something so different to my usual design work. It’s also great since she’s now family.”

“What?”

“Chloe’s new husband is my cousin Jordan. He’s one of Bryce’s brothers. They got married a few weeks ago in the Caribbean. And before you ask, no you probably won’t get to meet Chloe. She and Jordan are enjoying an extended honeymoon somewhere on a private island in the South Pacific.”

He got the hint. His four month contract was to work with Camille and support her with fashion week, it wasn’t to go hanging around with popstars.

Ryan set his bowl of soup to one side. “I’ve been looking at the planning app and think I might have something to show you. I’d really like your feedback.”

Camille rose from her chair and came around to Ryan’s desk. She had taken off her suit jacket and was wearing a pale pink blouse which showed more than a hint of cleavage. Ryan did his best to avert his gaze as she placed both hands on his desk and leaned forward.

“Wow, this looks interesting. How does it work?” she said.

The scent of her perfume reached him, and he had to take a moment to gather his thoughts. It hadn’t passed his notice that Camille Royal wasn’t just a talented designer, she had a rocking body. A pair of plump tits that had enough bounce in them when she walked, that he knew they were real.

Stop it! Jeez. She is your boss.

Ryan curled his toes up tightly in his Doc Martens as Camille’s arm brushed against his skin. He made a mental note to wear a proper button down shirt tomorrow, not a t-shirt.

I need this job. I need this job.

He had to lock his needs and wants down hard and fast. Serious cash and a possible shot at a real career were on the line.

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