The Call Boy I Met in Paris — Episode 16
Sophie turned at the sound of her name, and the warmth that had softened her face vanished. Derek stood several steps away, staring at her as though he had caught her committing a crime. Of all the people who could have interrupted the fragile ease between her and Justin, her former fiancé was the last one she wanted to see.
“Okay, Sophie. That really is you,” Derek said, allowing his gaze to travel from the garment bags to Justin’s new suit. Suspicion hardened into contempt as he decided he understood the scene.
“What do you want?” Sophie asked. She made no effort to disguise her hostility, and the hand holding her bag tightened until her knuckles paled.
Derek ignored her question. “So Stella was right about you.” He nodded toward Justin, whose calm expression only irritated him more. “This must be your new boy toy, huh?”
The insult landed exactly where Derek intended, but Sophie did not retreat. Before she could answer, Justin stepped forward with a smile that held no amusement.
“And you must be the cheating, lying, tiny-dick man-whore, right?” Justin asked. He repeated Sophie’s description with such effortless precision that Derek’s face flushed dark red.
For one startled second, Sophie nearly laughed. Justin had remembered every vicious word she had used at the hotel, and hearing them delivered back to Derek felt more satisfying than it should have.
“You bitch,” Derek snapped at her. “Is that what you told him?” His anger exposed the entitlement beneath his wounded pride. He had betrayed Sophie, yet still believed she owed him silence.
Justin’s amusement disappeared. He set the garment bags down and moved between them, his body suddenly still in the way of a man who did not need to raise his voice to be dangerous.
“Call my wife a bitch again,” he said, “and I won’t hesitate to break your nose.” Each word was quiet and deliberate, leaving Derek no room to mistake the warning for empty bravado.
Derek glanced at Justin’s shoulders and the fist resting loosely at his side. The supposed call boy no longer looked like a man who could be intimidated by money or status.
Justin leaned closer. “You hear me, bitch?” The final word turned Derek’s insult back on him, and Sophie’s lips twitched despite the tension.
“Whatever, man. Just chill the fuck out,” Derek muttered. He tried to sound dismissive, but he had already taken a step backward.
Sophie saw the retreat and understood how much of Derek’s power had always depended on other people yielding first. Justin had refused, and the bully beneath the polished image had nothing left but noise.
“Now shoo,” Justin said, picking up the bags again. “Unless you want to get hit.” His tone made the command sound almost courteous.
“Whatever. Arrogant prick.” Derek looked to Sophie as if expecting her to object to her husband’s behavior. She only opened the car door wider.
“Come on,” Justin told her, dismissing Derek as completely as Derek had once dismissed Sophie’s feelings. She followed without another word.
As they walked away, Sophie became aware that Justin’s hand remained protectively at her back. He had defended her without asking what it might cost him, something no man in her family had ever done.
“You didn’t have to threaten him,” she murmured, though gratitude weakened the rebuke. Justin glanced down at her. “He didn’t have to insult my wife.”
The words followed Sophie into the car and settled somewhere dangerously close to her heart. Behind them, Derek watched the vehicle pull away, fury replacing his embarrassment as he promised himself he would discover exactly who Justin Lake was—and destroy whatever Sophie thought she had found in him.
