“Please tell me you’ve been able to order a new phone for me?” I wiggle out of my sweater and toss it, along with my purse and sketches, onto my desk before I plummet into my tufted upholstered swivel chair.

André, my personal assistant, lifts my sweater off my desk and carefully hangs it on the hook behind my office door. He looks at me through his gold-rimmed designer eyeglasses and serves me his famous half-curved smile. “Yes, of course I did. It’ll be here in an hour. I asked them to put a rush on it.” His bushy eyebrows snap together. “Is everything alright? Jules told me about the incident this morning.”

André is a doll. He came to Paris from San Francisco, originally as an intern three years ago. Then, he met and fell in love with his now partner, Jacques, a chef de cuisine, who runs Café Couture downstairs. Naturally he decided to stay in Paris, and has been my amazing personal assistant ever since.

“Yep, but between my embarrassing fall, the massacre of my precious phone, the crappy flowers, and getting an annoying new driver, it’s been one hell of a morning.”

André dishes a critical eye as he spills into one of the chairs facing my desk. “Crappy Flowers? An annoying new driver? Oh, sweetheart, why do I feel like you can use one of Jacques’ signature Iced Lucky Unicorn Lattes right now?”

I chuckle at his suggestion. “Because I probably can use an Iced Lucky Unicorn Latte. A large one. Would you mind going down to the café to grab one for me?”

“Not at all, miss thang. Oh, and Emily from La Boutique Publications called in this morning, confirming your Skype meeting at 10 a.m. sharp.

I nod in acknowledgement, opening a file on my computer. “Wonderful. Have you been able to reach Daniella Belle, confirming her start date, this week?”

“Yes, ma’am. And it’s Michaels.”

I fling my eyes from the computer screen to André. “I’m sorry?”

“It’s Daniella Michaels now, not Belle, remember? She snagged the hot-as-all-hell Antonio Michaels three weeks ago? She’s a giddy newlywed.”

“Oh, yes. She and Antonio did indeed tie the knot. Right here in France too. Are they all settled in their new place?”

André bops his head up and down. “I’ll say they are. They purchased a spectacular villa featured in Château de Réve Magazine. You should really watch TMZ, boss. Daniella and Antonio recently gave them an exclusive interview and photos of their private wedding. I admit, I’m a bit of a fanboy when it comes to those two.” He lifts a sheet of paper off my desk and uses it to fan his face. “I can’t wait to meet Daniella in person. And I know I’ll pass out if Antonio ever shows his face around here. But don’t you dare tell Jacques I said that.”

I hold back a giggle. “You know I can’t be bothered with anything on TV. I don’t have time for that fluff, especially TMZ. I’d really hate to see what they say about me. And I’m glad Daniella and Antonio are getting settled nicely. Be sure to tell her, if she needs anything just to let me know. I think Daniella will fit in with us perfectly.”

I first met Daniella Belle when she was attending design school in Los Angeles, CA. She was assigned to me as an intern during my first Fashion Week in New York City and helped coordinate backstage set design and accessories for the show. She did amazing work and I knew she would be graduating at the top of her class. Apparently, she went to work for the handsome CraveMe lingerie CEO, Antonio Michaels, earlier this year and, somehow, the two fell in love during a Fashion Week event in Milan. Glimpses into their love story were captured by TMZ, including their first encounter on the Los Angeles Metro and an incident that lead to a brief breakup period, that caused Daniella to apply for a job with me. I readily scooped her up, knowing she would be an excellent addition to my team. And when the two got back together, they both gladly packed up and moved here to France before having a small private wedding ceremony in Monaco. I heard they’ve been spending their honeymoon along the French Riviera. They are getting to be known as a bit of a power couple. A younger and more hip David and Victoria Beckham.

I can’t help but be a tad envious. Not of them. But of their love story. It probably should be captured in a romance novel. It’s sorta Cinderella-ish.

“I’ll be sure to let her know. Can I pick up anything else for you from the café?”André asks, whipping his scarf around his neck as he takes a few steps back toward the door.

“I’m dying for yogurt and a croissant.”

“Sure thing, gorgeous. I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

La Boutique Publications, a superior media company based in New York City, known for producing influential, high-quality magazines like Alpha Male, Fancy Pants, Glamour Brides, Affluence, and Celestial Woman, reached out to me after I queried them my idea of a trendsetting publication. “It’s time to take my high-fashion clothing brand, Haute Couture, to the next level,” is what I captioned in my email to them four months ago. I swear, I was about to give up hope that they’d even reply with a rejection letter, until one of the editors reached out to me with a simple “We are more than interested” email reply. I won’t lie. I nearly crapped my pants when I got that email and have been a certifiable nutcase since, preparing for the presentation I plan to give them during a Skype call scheduled for this morning.

Like in fifteen minutes and seventeen seconds.

“You know you were made for this, Lauren Blake,” André says, tinkering with my computer, verifying it’s tech ready for the Skype call and my presentation. “You have your opening spiel ready to go? I know you’ve rehearsed it a gazillion times by now.”

I nod, taking a gulp of Perrier, hoping its fizzy bubbles will settle my nervous stomach.

Am I made for this? Or should I just stick with designing the voguish clothing women and men of all sizes dream of wearing?

My daddy’s voice swarms my head like a first responder sayin’, “You’re a star baby. You can do this.”

Thinking back at how I started this brand, what seems like ages ago now, I look around at the walls garnished with pictures. Men and women, young, old, short, tall, skinny, fluffy, covered in clothes from a high-fashion line I created out of unadulterated spite, thanks to Mama.

“Yep, I’ve got my opening spiel ready. Is the computer all set up?” I ask, glancing at the 3D jumbo clock on the wall.

Only ten more minutes to go.

“It’s all set.” André closes the blinds to the large window behind my desk. “I don’t want them to get distracted by the beautiful Tower in the background. This should be all about you and HC.”

“Thanks, hun.”

The corners of his mouth turn up. “Now you be sure to dart out of this office as soon as the call is over and let me know how it went. I’ll have my legs, feet, and eyes crossed. Good luck.”

A nervous grin consumes my face as André leaves my office, closing the door behind him.

Five more minutes…

Breathe, Lauren Blake. Just Breathe.