“Thank you,” Ryan said before the man could turn away, “but I’m starting my own line. I’ll be working for myself from now on.”
“Excellent,” Marco said, even though Giorgio was doing everything short of grabbing his belt and tugging to get him to move away. “If you need any sort of help, let me know.”
“I will, thank you,” Ryan said, sending Giorgio a gloating smile.
A few seconds later, once Giorgio and Marco were gone and it was just the three of them again, Ryan sighed and said, “I shouldn’t have baited Giorgio like that. He’s not going to give up making my life miserable and trying to destroy my career because of one success in London.”
“But good things will happen now, right?” Graeme asked, setting his half-empty flute on a small table near them. “You’ll be able to make deals in the fashion world and get people to wear your clothes, won’t you?”
Ryan sighed, downed the last of his bubbly, and set his glass aside as well. “Who knows?” He shrugged. “Fashion is a fickle business. Giorgio might be the biggest name on the planet by the end of the weekend, or he might fade into obscurity. I won’t know how this silly old career of mine will go until it goes.”
“But this is still what you want, isn’t it?” Graeme asked as Ryan gestured for the three of them to walk toward the far side of the room. “Do you still want to be a big name in fashion?”
“Yes,” Ryan said, smiling for a change instead of looking like he was about to be dragged across a cheese grater. “I love what I do and I want to keep on doing it.”
“What you do or who you do?” Art teased him.
Ryan sent him a lopsided, sideways grin. “Both,” he said. “I’m in my ‘why-choose’ era.”
Art laughed. His heart felt so light that it was amazing his feet touched the ground. It was even better when several more luminaries of the design world pulled Ryan aside to congratulate him and to chat. Art still didn’t know what was going on, but from the sound of the conversations around them, a few retailers were interested in his collection and might just want to work with him.
The schmoozing lasted well past the afternoon. Even after that, Ryan had invitations to attend some of the other shows around London. Art and Graeme stuck by his side for as long as they could, but Art could see Graeme was flagging by the time supper rolled around.
“Are you going to paint the town red tonight along with the rest of your fashion friends?” Art asked Ryan when he spottedGraeme nodding off in the corner of the restaurant where they’d joined several of Ryan’s colleagues.
Ryan was still in high spirits, but he glanced over to Graeme in the corner and his expression changed. “You know what?” he started. “I think I’m done here. I’d rather spend the rest of the night with you two.”
“Perfect,” Art said, running a flirty hand down the front of his shirt. “That’s just what I wanted to hear. I’ll pack our sweet boy into the car and meet you back at Hawthorne House.”
Ryan shook his head. “I have a room at the Savoy,” he said with a broad grin. “It’s a short walk from here. The bed is big enough for three.”
That woke Art up from the nagging exhaustion that was beginning to poke at him. “I’ll go collect our boy.”
Five minutes later, the three of them had left the posh restaurant and were making their way down The Strand toward the Savoy. Art felt like an absolute libertine as the three of them snuck into the busy hotel quietly, catching a lift before any of the numerous fashion people noticed Ryan and tried to drag him into a conversation.
Ryan must have known what was coming. He’d splurged for one of the fanciest hotel rooms Art had ever seen. It was more of a miniature flat than a dozy hotel room. It was so opulent that it even woke Graeme up.
“I’ve never been anywhere like this,” Graeme said in an awed voice, glancing around at the splendor.
“You both are worth it,” Ryan said. “It’s our reward for everything we’ve been through and our special night for everything we’ve got to look forward to.” A second later, his wicked grin was replaced by a small gasp. “I’ve completely forgotten to ask,” he said, taking Graeme’s hand. “How did the meeting with Mrs. St. Ives go?”
Graeme pulled his attention away from the furnishings and smiled at Ryan. “Brilliant, I think,” he said. “Mrs. St. Ives really liked my ideas. She hasn’t called me to make things formal yet, but I really think I’ve got the job.”
“He nailed it,” Art said. “Just like I nailed him.”
“Arthur!” Graeme hissed, blushing up a storm.
Ryan just laughed. “I can’t wait to hear all about it. About all of it,” he said, then bit his lip. “But wait,” he said, his naughty expression vanishing for a second time. “If you have a job in Cornwall, what does that mean for Hawthorne House? What does it mean for us?” He glanced to Art as well.
“I don’t know,” Graeme said, looking suddenly stressed. “I hadn’t thought about that.”
Art didn’t like the turn the conversation had taken at all. “I suggest we discuss this. Naked. And possibly in a bathtub, if this suite has one big enough?”
“It’s big, but I don’t know if it’s that big,” Ryan said.
“Oh, it’s big, alright,” Art said, wiggling his eyebrows like he always did.
Ryan and Graeme laughed, which was exactly the reaction Art had hoped for. They headed into the bedroom, which was just as massive as the main room, and on to the bathroom to assess the facilities.
