The Call Boy I Met in Paris – Episode 12
“Hey,” Justin answered, unable to keep the warmth from his voice. The single word made Patrick look away in secondhand embarrassment.
“Hey yourself,” Sophie replied. She stood outside an exclusive designer’s studio with a schedule in one hand and a plan for transforming her new husband in the other.
“All right, first day on the job,” she said. Treating their marriage like employment helped her ignore how naturally Justin’s voice had begun to affect her. “I texted you an address. Please meet me there.”
“You got it.” Justin rose before the call had even ended. He did not ask what she needed or how long it would take.
Patrick stepped between him and the door. “What do you mean, you’ve got to go? Where?” The board was due in less than an hour, and an international conference call had already been postponed once.
“She called. I have to go.” To Justin, the explanation was complete. He collected his jacket and checked Sophie’s address.
“That’s it?” Patrick followed him across the office. “What about our meetings today?”
“Cancel them.” Justin’s tone returned to its usual executive certainty, though the reason behind the order was anything but usual.
Patrick stopped and stared. Justin had rescheduled senators and redirected entire project teams, but abandoning a full day because his wife summoned him set a new standard. “Your wife’s more important?”
Justin gave him a look that made the answer obvious. Then the elevator doors closed, leaving Patrick to dismantle the CEO’s schedule and invent explanations no board member would believe.
At the studio, Sophie greeted the designer with practiced familiarity. “Looking good, Joey.” The room displayed hand-finished gowns and suits under soft lighting, each piece carrying a price Justin could afford without thought.
“Welcome, Miss Swift. I have your dress right here,” Joey said, gesturing toward a garment prepared for her. He had dressed Sophie for important events before and knew her standards were exacting.
“Actually, my husband is coming in a minute, and he needs some decent suits.” Sophie glanced toward the entrance. Justin’s current clothes were not poor, but she believed a man working two jobs would need help looking convincing beside the new owner of Swift Architecture.
“You’re the only designer in Los Angeles I trust,” she added. If Justin was going to face her family, directors, and clients, she wanted him protected from the contempt she had seen in Tony’s house.
Joey’s polite smile tightened. “It’s not that I don’t want to help, Miss Swift, but this is too last-minute. I’m swamped with orders.” Custom tailoring could not normally be summoned in a single afternoon, even for Sophie.
She prepared to negotiate, already calculating what rush fees might cost. The bell above the studio door interrupted her.
“I’m so sorry I’m late,” Justin said as he entered. He had crossed the city faster than Patrick would have considered responsible, yet he looked composed.
“It’s okay.” Sophie turned toward him, relieved by his arrival in a way she did not examine too closely.
Joey looked past her and froze. He had tailored for powerful men, attended Lake Enterprises events, and knew exactly whose measurements were stored in his private records.
“Miss Swift,” Joey managed, staring at the billionaire she had introduced as a husband in need of decent clothes, “how come you didn’t tell me your husband was such a handsome young man?” Behind the compliment waited a far more dangerous question: did Sophie truly not know she had married Justin Lake?
