20. James
20
JAMES
L aunch night.
How I hated those words. All of the work and stress and nonstop promotion were about to culminate in a fashion show and party that could make or break Branson Design’s couture line. Reporters always asked if I was excited when we launched new lines, and I repeated all the right buzzwords back to give them the perfect soundbite they needed.
But the reality was, if this particular show didn’t hit just right, we were fucked .
Not that I could let on to anyone that the situation was dire. Even Natalie didn’t have a clue. We’d spent the weeks leading up to the event practically living together, but she had no idea how concerned I was.
The Branson legacy was in my hands, which meant that it was mine to lose. Our family’s personal fortunes would barely wobble if the company folded, but the weight of destroying something that Bernie had built brick by brick was too depressing to consider. And then there was our incredible team. Dedicated, hardworking people who would lose their livelihoods if my leadership wasn’t good enough. The pressure of it all resulted in a tension headache that made navigating the chaos that much more difficult.
It was almost impossible to remain even-keeled, but somehow I managed to fake it as I strode through the press pre-party. It wasn’t like I had a choice since it felt like cameras followed my every move. I plastered on an overwide smile and pretended that I was thrilled.
Calliope bounded over to me. “Hey, boss! I want to post a pic of you and Natalie together, and maybe a Reel too. You up for that?”
No, but I wasn’t about to deny her the social media attention we needed.
“I haven’t seen Natalie in a while.” I scanned the room. “Let me find her and we’ll come get you. In the meantime, can you make sure to get a photo of Bernie with Davina?”
The Branson founder and her first fit model were still tight friends, and the pair of senior citizen beauties were always good for an attention-grabbing photo.
I set out to track Natalie down with a pleasantly bland smile still cracking my face. Crowds parted as I walked through the room, and I could feel the cameras pointed at me. It was one of the many aspects I hated about the social media age: I was always being watched.
I waved off a few interviews with promises to chat later, feeling more worried as I realized that Natalie was nowhere to be found. She was the reason we were having a couture show, she needed to be present. Maybe she was nervous?
One of the waitstaff pushed through the swinging door that led to the kitchen, and I was shocked to see Natalie before it closed. What the hell was she doing hiding out? I stormed over, ready to give her a stern pep talk, and felt surprise give way to horror when I opened the door to find MG looming close to her. Natalie’s face flooded with relief when she spotted me heading towards them.
“James! Sweetheart !”
I could hear the tension in her voice.
“Well, hello there, BJ,” I said, deliberately mangling MG’s name. I smiled affably and reached out to shake his hand. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here tonight. Did Natalie invite you?”
I knew that implying he couldn’t get an invitation on his own would rankle him.
“Oh, come on, James, stop pretending you don’t know me. And I’m here because your event planner invited me.” He bared his teeth at me in a smile. “She clearly knows who shmatters in this town.”
The man was slurring. He took a step, then tripped on his own feet, and his hand darted out to grab Natalie in an attempt to steady himself.
He wound up grazing her breast as he clung to her upper arm. Natalie looked at me with wide eyes, trapped like a rabbit in snare, and I felt my hands curl into fists.
“Okay, you need to step away from her,” I began, trying not to lose my cool. “Let her go.”
“Soft,” MG said, ignoring me as he ran his hand up and down her bicep. “Do you like that?”
Natalie tried to wrench her arm away, but he tightened his grip.
“We could share her, you know?” MG leered at me. “I think she wants me. I’ve seen the way she watches me in class, and it’s obvious that this girl likes to fuck. Am I right or what? I bet there’s enough of her to go around.”
My fist connected with his face before I could even process what was happening.
MG went down hard, his reflexes no doubt dulled by all of the alcohol. He stared up at me from the ground, one hand clutching his chin in shock. “ You …”
For a moment, I was so shocked at myself that I just stood there, frozen. I had just lost control at the most important event of my life. Me, the guy who never lost control, had gone into a full-on rage at MG’s crude, insulting words. When the hell had I become this guy, the one who couldn’t keep a handle on himself?
And what the hell kind of damage would this cause if anyone saw the head of Branson Designs decking a fashion icon?
“Oh, buddy, you are fucked,” MG said from the ground as he manipulated his jaw. It felt like he was reading my mind. “Oh, you are so fucked. Wait till I…”
He listed to the side as he got up, and I wasn’t sure if it was due to the alcohol or aftershocks from my punch.
“Where’s Grace from The New York Times ?” MG hollered, looking around. “Grace? Have I got a story for you.”
Damage control. This has to stay contained, no matter what. I could not allow this to be the big story of the night. I took a fast step closer to him to block him and jabbed my finger in his face. “Listen to me. The only story here is how you’ve been sexually harassing your student. Do you really want to have your own personal “Me Too” moment?”
MG still looked dazed. I got a little worried about just how hard I’d hit him.
“My word against hers,” he finally managed, and my hands curled into fists again. I needed to walk away before I hit him again. I’d gotten away with it once, but I might not be so lucky a second time.
I glared at MG for a few seconds longer, making him shrink back from me, then I turned and exited and kitchen. Natalie followed behind me. When we cleared the door, I turned back to face her.
“Do you think anyone from the party saw that?” I asked.
Her eyebrows shot up. “Um, I’m fine—thanks for asking,” she said, a bit of an edge in her voice. And beneath that edge, I could hear vulnerability. She rubbed her hands over her arms like she was cold—or like she felt the need to protect herself. Shit . Of course she’d been shaken by that. What MG said was disgusting. No wonder she looked rattled.
“I’m sorry, are you all right?” I asked.
She softened, giving me a half-smile that looked tired but real. “Yeah,” she assured me. “I’m okay. Thanks for coming to my rescue.”
I grimaced at the reminder of the punch. “Let’s just hope he has the sense to keep quiet about what I did,” I said. “That’s the last story we need getting out about tonight.”
“Well, yeah,” she said slowly. “Of course I don’t want bad publicity either. But?—”
“If you’re really okay,” I said, cutting her off, “I should probably go talk to that Times reporter he mentioned. If I can plant the idea that he’s drunk and acting out, then maybe we can keep control of the narrative.”
“Sure,” she said after a pause. “I’m fine. Do what you need to do. Think about the show, not him.”
I took a second just to admire how beautiful she looked. Natalie was a vision in a black dress covered in slashes, safety pins, and visible white stitching. The theme of the show was “Deconstruction,” and she was wearing a dress that looked like the seamstress wasn’t quite finished with it. The effect was dazzling, a display of creativity and daring. The retail-ready version of her dress would be a part of our ready-to-wear line.
In a flash it felt like the energy in the space shifted simultaneously, as everyone peered behind us. A few shouts erupted.
“ Heidi !” someone yelled. “Heidi’s here!”
My blood turned to ice. I knew for a fact that my ex hadn’t been invited, but she was the only “Heidi” that could evoke such a dramatic reaction. I turned around slowly.
And there she was, the Queen of the Catwalk, wearing our top-secret fucking finale gown. Like all fashion shows, we’d planned to end with a show-stopping bridal gown, deconstructed to look like the wedding night had already been consummated, with the bodice half missing to expose a bustier beneath it and the back of the gown raised all the way up to show off a white mesh-clad ass.
Angular and beautifully androgenous Skyler Honeywell’s ass, not the ass of Barbie-perfect Heidi Jones.
Heidi looked incredible in the gown, but that was what she did best. Looking good was her occupation and preoccupation. The woman never did anything without considering how it would impact her body. During our year together I’d only seen her finish an entire meal once, and that was after fashion week ended in September and she didn’t have to worry about fitting in clothing and being photographed from every angle each day.
“No, no, no, no,” Natalie moaned. “This can’t be happening!”
The press swarmed around Heidi while she preened and posed, giving me a few seconds to try to collect myself. We’d never had this type of security breach before. I was going to murder the culprit.
“I don’t know how this could have happened!” Natalie said, her voice shaking. “Maybe she tricked one of the other models? She’d know all of them professionally, right?”
Heidi peered around the room and lit up when she spotted me. “ There he is! James, get over here.”
Every camera swung in my direction. I could only be grateful that they were focused on me now and not five minutes earlier, when I’d been having it out with MG. I didn’t want a media spotlight on me and Heidi, but at least it would look good to the cameras. She’d chosen her venue well. I couldn’t exactly ignore her here. Calling her out would just turn this into a scandal that would detract from the launch of the line. I had to play along to keep the focus where it belonged: on the clothes. So I had no choice but to cross the room to Heidi. Thankfully, she was standing in front of the step-and-repeat banner covered with the Branson logo, which meant that every photo of us would result in good press.
The woman knew how to market; I had to hand it to her despite my fury.
“The man of the hour, looking gorgeous, as usual.” Heidi giggled when I reached her. She slid her arm through mine and dropped her head to my shoulder. “Okay, people, do we love my dress or what ?”
The dress someone had stolen from us. I punched down the rage bubbling up inside of me. Keep calm, smile, and pretend that this was all part of the plan. Don’t make a scene. Or more of a scene.
A cheer went up around us to answer her dumb question. Of course they loved it; Natalie had designed it. The gown was perfect.
“That’s a wedding gown, right?” a voice called out from the crowd of photographers trained on us.
Heidi giggled and nodded, glancing at me with the faux coquettish expression I was way too familiar with. She used to try it on me whenever she wanted something.
“Hey, James, you got something to tell us?” another reporter called out, and everyone laughed. “Big time reconciliation, or what?”
The stunt was heading in a very wrong direction, but it wasn’t like I could just announce that I’d sooner marry a rattlesnake. Not in front of a media audience that adored Heidi. No, I needed to control this—give an answer that satisfied the mob while not giving anything away.
“Let’s just say we still have some secrets, but you’re going to have to wait until the catwalk to find them out,” I said, with as much fake cheer as I could muster.
My eyes shot to Natalie and her expression was openmouthed shock.
People booed good naturedly at my non-answer.
“My boyfriend likes to keep people guessing, even me!” Heidi giggled and squeezed my arm.
I hoped I didn’t noticeably flinch when she called me her boyfriend. I glanced at her and narrowed my eyes so that only she could see. “Yes, seems we’re all a bit surprised today.”
But even as I said it, I knew it would be good for the company and the new line. The fashion bloggers would be writing about us already, but if we could get the gossip bloggers to spread the word—including pictures—then that could be the spark needed to make this all go viral.
“Hey, James, you got more wedding dresses for us today?” another reporter called out. “Is this your way of telling us you’re launching a full bridal line?”
The crowd applauded and I hid my frown. We’d always considered adding a bridal line but now if we ever did in the future, it would forever be tied to this moment. Hell, Heidi might even try to take credit for it. But that was a problem for down the road. This night still needed to pay off or there wouldn’t be a future for the company, with or without wedding dresses.
“You just have to wait and see,” I teased, pulling out all the stops on my acting abilities. I hoped my expression looked believably happy. Heidi and I locked eyes and I tried to channel my rage so that she was the only one who could sense it.
But she either didn’t notice or didn’t care as she giggled, then leaned closer to give me a kiss on the cheek. She kept her lips pressed against me while the flashes around us made my vision swim. What choice did I have but to put on my trademark smirk and hope the paparazzi were getting the scoop they needed to help make the evening a success?
I glanced beyond the crowd to where Natalie was standing. Her shoulders were hunched and her face looked pinched, no doubt thanks to the way her world had just flipped upside-down within the past five minutes. Punching that bedbug of a human MG and Heidi crashing our show in Natalie’s finale dress? How much more would we have to deal with? I found myself starting to move towards her without any conscious thought. If it hadn’t been for the hold Heidi had on my arm, I’d have walked away completely. I gave my head a quick shake to clear it. That was the second time tonight I’d seen Natalie and just reacted , without thinking it through. It made me uneasy. Since when was I impulsive? Since when did I act without thinking? Since when did I lose control?
Since Natalie.
I had to get my head back in the game. I looked around the room and spied Calliope furiously punching at her phone. She grinned at the screen, then glanced around the room. When she spotted me watching her, she hopped up and down and gave me a thumbs-up with an even wider smile.
From what I could decipher, she was letting me know that the world was enjoying the surprise reunion with my ex. That would put eyeballs on Branson, which was exactly what I wanted. Exposure like this, fake as it may be, was priceless in a crowded marketplace. I felt a genuine smile spread across my face at the thought of all of the social media attention we were going to get. And this was even before the show. Things were looking up.
“Give your girl a kiss, will ya?” a voice shouted at us.
A chant started to kick up around us.
“Kiss her! Kiss her! Kiss her!”
Heidi leaned closer to me with her eyes shut and her plump lips puckered. Part of me wanted to look over to Natalie—to check in, make sure she was okay—but that was an urge I needed to suppress. This night wasn’t about making sure Natalie was okay. It was about saving the company. I had to stay focused on that goal and not let anything distract me, not even Natalie. When this was all over, she’d understand.
Staring into Heidi’s face, I braced myself to gently grasp her chin and give her the quickest, most brotherly peck imaginable.
When I looked to where Natalie had been, she was gone.