Page 74 of All the Drama from New York

Camille lifted her drink, and doing his best to forget about his growing fears, Ryan clinked his glass to hers. “To you Camille, and the success of your runway show.”

“And to you Ryan, thank you for everything you’ve done for me.” Her gaze followed his to where the other diners were now putting their phones away. “They might just remember you from the show. And if they do, they’ve probably forwarded your picture to their close friends. Guess who we saw tonight?”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. It might be simply an uncanny coincidence.” Ryan took a long sip of his champagne. He was determined that no one and nothing was going to spoil this special evening with Camille.

But no matter how hard he tried to push his worries to the back of his mind, they continued to linger. He’d been out of the public eye for almost four years, and now people were suddenly taking his picture.

Tempting as it was to check his socials, he made a point of leaving his cell in his jacket pocket. Whatever was happening on the internet could wait. Tonight was about good food, good wine, and when they were back at the apartment—mind blowing sex.

Please universe, don’t be coming for me. Not when I have found this amazing woman, and I might finally have a chance at love.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

The first phone call came a little after eight the following morning. It was Bryce. Camille answered it in the only way a woman who’d had a night of hot loving could.

“I’ve barely managed a couple of hours sleep, so whatever it is please be gentle with me, cousin.”

On the other end of the line Bryce cleared his throat. “Is Ryan Collins still staying at your apartment?”

There was every chance he’d already put two and two together; and come up with the answer that Ryan had spent the night in her bed. But Bryce would never be so crass as to say such a thing out loud. He would wait for Camille to broach the subject if and when she felt it necessary.

“Yes, he is. He’s in the kitchen making us coffee.”

“Good. Could you please go find him. I need to speak to the both of you. And before you ask, yes, its urgent.”

Camille, who’d been in the middle of getting dressed, threw on the pale blue cotton sweater she’d already picked out along with her now customary leisure pants. Bare foot, and with her cell phone in one hand, she headed into the kitchen. There wasno sign of Ryan, but she could hear him moving about upstairs in the design studio.

Reaching the top of the stairs, she found him. Ryan was slumped over his desk his head in his hands. His computer monitor was on, and his Instagram profile shone brightly on the screen.

“Bryce is on the line, and he wants to talk to us,” she said, putting the call onto speaker, and setting the phone on the desk.

Ryan sat up and raked his fingers through his hair. “Hi Bryce. I have a horrible feeling I know why you’re calling. Does it have anything to do with what’s trending on social media this morning?”

What’s trending?

“Yeah, our social media monitoring folks picked it up as soon as it went live, and I figured I should get in touch. Just in case you’d missed it.”

Ryan slowly shook his head, and Camille could only imagine what he was thinking. The Royal family had people who monitored social media for any mention of them, which would also include anyone who worked for them in a personal capacity. And that meant him.

“I wish I could unsee it Bryce, but no such luck,” replied Ryan.

Camille looked to where Ryan was pointing on the computer screen. The hashtag #ryancollinsfuckboy was the top trending search this morning. The second highest trending search was #ryancollinsisatoyboy.

Her blood ran cold. What on earth did that mean?

“Bryce, Camille is just looking at the trending searches on Instagram. So I’ll try and catch her up as best I can,” said Ryan. He sat back in his chair, and scrubbed his hands over his face.

“I haven’t been on social media for a while, but I do know my follower numbers. Last month my followers on Instagramsat at thirty five thousand. I rarely post so they are basically just people who started following me during the show, and who haven’t gotten around to unfollowing me.”

Thirty five thousand. Camille’s own account had about half that number. Engaging a social media agency to handle the Camille Royal Designs account had long been on Hope’s to do list.

“Go on,” said Bryce.

“This morning, it’s sitting at one hundred and seventy eight thousand and climbing by the hour. I haven’t checked any of the other platforms, but I’m assuming that whatever is behind these tags is spreading fast,” said Ryan, letting out a resigned sigh.

Camille threw up her hands. “Could someone please tell me what on earth is going on? What do those hashtags mean?”

Bryce’s voice crackled down the line. “They mean that someone has discovered that a former reality tv show contestant is now working for a billionaire fashion designer, and that it is too good a story to leave alone.”

---