Page 15 of All the Drama from New York

Camille’s hand settled over her heart. It was still racing. This was the moment she had worked her ass off to achieve — four years in the making. This would be her chance to step out from behind her clothes and show her face. For the world to see the woman behind Camille Royal Designs and what she could do.

Excitement and dread swirled around in her belly. Hope had to have known what this offer meant to Camille. She would also know that ditching her boss right now was the worst thing she could have done. Hope had been manipulated into quitting a job she loved by her new husband.

When she’d first left Paris, it had been with a handful of dreams. But now just as Camille was reaching out to grab themfor real, it seemed that fate had decided to step in, slap her hard over the hand, and tell her she wasn’t ready.

But I am ready. This is a setback. That’s all. Every designer has to overcome such challenges. No gain without pain.

She really wanted to talk to someone. Vent or cry. Or cheer. Her emotions were all over the place. Her happiness was mixed up with the disappointment and shock of what Hope had done.

It was far too early to call Bryce, and besides, what was she going to say?

“Hi Bryce, yes, I know it’s three am, but I’ve just got shafted by my trusted employee, and I need a shoulder to cry on. Oh and by the way I have to host a full runway show at New York fashion week in the middle of September—that’s only three months away. Come and get me before I pass out.”

Her cousin was one of her best friends. But he was not her counselor. Bryce had his own life and career to deal with, as well as a fiancée who might not appreciate being woken at such an ungodly hour.

I am not going to call Bryce. But I could call Sophie.

If there was one person who would truly understand what New York Fashion week meant it was her sister. Camille picked up her cell once more, and checked the time in Paris. It was almost nine o’clock in the morning, and if Sophie stuck to her usual habits, she would be up and taking the family dog for a walk along the River Seine. She would be well away from the prying ears and eyes of their parents, and thus able to talk freely.

I miss her so much.

Tapping her sister’s name on her phone, Camille lifted it to her ear. If anyone understood the predicament she was in, it was her twin.

Please pick up.

The call went straight to voicemail, and Camille left a short message.

“Hi Sophie, can you please call me when you get a chance?”

It seemed like the universe really didn’t want her to talk to anyone today. Maybe it was sending her a message. That it was time for her to figure these things out for herself.

I can do that, but it would be nice to not feel so alone.

What she would give to have someone in her life she could rely upon, who would always have her back.

Four years in New York and Camille still hadn’t managed to make one real friend. Ambition and hard work were finally paying off for her career. But the events of this morning had been a painful reminder that no matter how big her success, she was a lonely girl in a very big city.

CHAPTER SEVEN

The tiny back office at Java Junction

West 30thStreet, NYC

“I’ve looked at several locations in other parts of Manhattan and setting up our first non-hotel site could be the start of us building a chain of high end coffee shops in the city,” said Ryan. “The rents are not cheap, but we have a scalable concept.”

Simon listened politely as Ryan presented his plan for where he thought they could takeJava Junction, but from the impassive expression which continued to sit on his boss’s face it soon became clear that Ryan’s forty percent of a plan wasn’t going to cut it. His offer to do the heavy lifting in exchange for a piece of the action was met with stoney silence.

He could see the stumbling point. Money. Simon would need to put up the initial cash for the project, which meant he would be the one to bear all the risk. Ryan’s plan was that he would eventually take out an interest bearing loan, pay Simon back, and in doing so secure a slice of ownership for himself.

He hates the idea. And it’s the only option I have.

The proposal meeting had started badly. An order of coffee beans hadn’t arrived, and Simon had been forced to make a trip downtown to pick up the bags himself. Ryan had done his best to explain that if they went along with his plan then those sorts of jobs would be the ones he’d deal with on a day to day basis, for both coffee shops.

Simon had the good grace to give Ryan a solid twenty minutes of his time, before he finally held up his hand and called an end to the meeting. “Look I think you are a good kid.”

Fuck. I’m thirty years old.

He waited for the inevitable ‘let’s talk again in a couple of months’, but instead Simon slowly rose from behind his desk. He shifted into a power stance which was a feat in such a cramped space. Ryan’s already sinking stomach bottomed out. The only time he’d ever seen his boss do this was when he was about to fire someone.

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