Page 4 of All the Drama from New York

“What about you Camille, did you leave behind a trail of broken hearted young men when you left Paris?” asked Bryce. The grin on his face had returned, and she sensed he was doing his best to lighten the mood.

Camille rolled her eyes and muttered, “Ciel non.” She took a sip from her wineglass. “Papa made it all too hard for me to have a long term boyfriend and keep up with working in his studio. The best I could manage was the occasional hook-up.” She paused. “That’s what you call it here isn’t it—a hook-up? When you meet someone at a nightclub and go off together for a couple of hours of sweaty sex.”

Bryce winced. “Yes, but I wouldn’t go using that sort of language too much here in the US. It might give people thewrong idea. Americans don’t talk about sex as openly as the French do.”

Fitting in was going to be her biggest and hardest challenge. She had to be French in her designs and mannerisms, but nottooFrench. Different but nottoodifferent. Her future clients and customers had to be able to relate to her.

Ok, good advice. Don’t talk about sex.

A yawn escaped Camille’s lips. It had been an emotional and exhausting day. It was eight thirty at night in New York, and she’d been up since six am in Paris. She attempted a rough calculation.

Any wonder I’m exhausted, I’ve been awake for over twenty hours.

Her body and brain couldn’t yet decide which time zone they were in. Or if they were in the same one as each other.

“What do you think about seeing if Jordan or Matthew are in town tonight, I could give them both a call and see if they want to come around,” said Bryce.

Bryce’s brothers, Jordan and Matthew Royal, both lived in this Manhattan office and apartment tower, and Camille could well imagine her cousins would be keen to hear all the gory details about her fight with her father.

But not tonight.

“I’m utterly drained, so maybe I could see them both tomorrow for a late breakfast. But if you want to go out don’t worry about me. I’m more than happy to stay here and watch some mindless television,” replied Camille.

It would be useless going to bed and attempting to sleep. Her overtired brain flatly refused to switch off. Not to mention the swirl of emotions which were yet to simmer down.

Her father should be relieved that Camille had turned off her phone. There were things they might say to one another rightnow that they would both later regret. They’d already said more enough horrible words in the heat of battle this morning.

As Bryce got to his feet, he bent and picked up the TV remote. He handed it to Camille. “Press the green button to turn the unit on, and the big button in the middle to select the channels. The home button will take you to all the streaming services.”

Camille hit the on button. Her head rocked back as the massive TV screen flared to life. It took up most of the far wall of the living room. She laughed. “Oh my god, how big is that screen!”

Her cousin chuckled. “Ninety eight inches in imperial measurements. Welcome to America, Camille.”

While Bryce made quick calls to each of his two brothers, Camille remained on the floor, scrolling through the channels. An American football game. A cooking show. A baseball game. A photomontage of hot guys.

Her fingers stopped tapping on the remote.

Camille leaned forward.

“I’m your host Derick Stad, and tonight we will be meeting the twelve bachelors who are all vying to win the gorgeous and very single Kaylee’s heart. The last man standing will be crowned the winner ofBachelors on the Beach!”

“Oh god, don’t watch that rubbish, it will rot your brain,” huffed Bryce, in a voice that sounded eerily like his aristocratic British father.

Camille set the remote on the floor, her gaze remaining firmly fixed on the screen. The host of the tv show was flashing a pair of pearly white teeth which were so perfectly straight they had to have cost him a great deal of money.

She waved Bryce’s protests away. After the day she’d endured, this cotton candy reality tv show was exactly what Camille needed.

“Let’s meet our bachelors.”

With her attention focused on the group of hunky guys filling up the enormous tv screen, Camille barely noticed the loud click when the door of Bryce’s apartment closed behind him.

“Hello boys. Welcome to America indeed,” she whispered.

CHAPTER TWO

The Bachelors on the Beach mansion, Florida

Two months ago

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