Page 49 of All the Drama from New York

“Just as long as it doesn’t involve suggesting that I go sip cocktails on a beach somewhere,” she replied, clasping her hands tightly together. In her heart she’d always known she wasn’t that kind of person. Relaxing was a totally foreign concept to her.

“Not quite. Though it might be time to start to consider getting a professional set designer for the show. Someone who can take that piece of work off your hands. But right now, I do think you need to get out of New York City at least for a few days.”

Her gaze flashed to his. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you need to get out of the concrete jungle. Find somewhere you can clear your head and think. Where do you normally like to go outside of NYC? Are you a Hamptons girl, or do you do the whole Miami thing?”

She had no idea what theMiami thingwas. Camille stared hard at her fingernails. Apart from the annual family Christmasgatherings which were overseas, and Jordan and Chloe’s recent wedding, she hadn’t really ventured all that much outside of New York. And as for America, she’d been to Las Vegas a few times to work on Chloe’s tour outfits, but that was pretty much it.

A warm hand brushed over her cheek. “Where do you go Camille?”

She really shouldn’t allow his touch, but she craved it. “I don’t go anywhere, Ryan. Since I arrived in America four years ago, all I’ve done is work and sleep.”

And now I am paying the price.

He leaned in close, and as she felt his breath on her skin, a shiver went down her spine. “Well then, I think it’s time we got you out of the city Ms. Royal. I don’t think New York is the sort of place where you can dream up fantasies. Let’s go somewhere and see if you can rediscover your magic.”

Ryan might have been talking about the fashion show, but Camille’s libido was whispering the need for a different kind of magic. One which involved this man and his hands on her naked body. “As long as you come with me,” she whispered.

She slipped her hand into his, and gave it a gentle squee. “Please. You and me. Let’s go somewhere that will help me reclaim my creative energy.”

“All you have to do Camille, is ask. I’ll be with you every single moment.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

They discussed their plans later that evening over a dinner of the best steak Ryan had ever tasted. How he would ever go back to living at the apartment in East Orange and suffering Liam’s less than stellar cooking, he couldn’t imagine. These days with Camille would long remain in his memories.

Ryan offered up possible ideas as to where he and Camille might go outside of the city, but his suggestions were hampered by her refusal to travel too far. He didn’t quite buy her reason that she had to be available to return to New York in case the people from fashion week needed to get in touch.

There is a thing called email.

He toyed with challenging her thoughts but decided against it. His job was to help Camille fill her creative well and in doing so come up with a kickass runway show. Something that would put her front and center of the fashion world. If that happened, then he would consider his time working with her to have been a success.

“We could head over to Fire Island for a couple of days,” he said.

Last year he’d accompanied Liam on a magazine photoshoot to the island and been captivated by its beauty. He’d always wanted to go back.

“Where’s that?”

“It’s an island a bit to the east of here. It’s still in New York state. Fire Island has long sandy beaches and the southern parts are quiet and away from the summer crowds,” said Ryan. He hoped Camille might feel more comfortable somewhere private. “We could take my car. But if you have access to a better motor vehicle, we could share the driving.”

His car was so far from being in showroom condition, he wasn’t even sure if it could make the eighty odd mile journey from East Orange to the island. Not to mention getting back home. But right now he was tossing up as many suggestions as he could, in the hope that Camille would grab at one of them.

“I couldn’t drive a car even if I owned one,” said Camille, her gaze fixed on her dinner plate. “When I’m in Paris I have use of the Royal family car service. In New York I either take a taxi or call up one of the Royal Resorts drivers.”

Ryan sensed she was uncomfortable making that small private confession. She had been born into privilege and was used to that life.

He for one wasn’t going to judge her, but he still couldn’t imagine not being able to drive. The freedom of getting behind the wheel and going where ever he wanted was something Ryan had long taken for granted. He could of course see the appeal in having someone else on standby ready to take you everywhere. At least it would mean never having to find a rare as hens teeth carpark in Manhattan.

“Just how far from here is it to Fire Island?” she asked.

“A couple of hours in heavy traffic. Not that far.”

“And we could take your car?”

Last winter he’d had an unfortunate run in with a snow plough, and his light blue 2008 Toyota Corolla had come off second best. The repairs he’d managed to afford to have done thus far, had at least made it roadworthy, but there were still a few dents in the panel on the rear driver’s side. And when he did finally get the motor to kick over, it usually made a horrible noise for the first few minutes.

Camille came from money, serious money. Billions type money. What would she think of his bomb of a car?

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