My Stallion Heart (The Stallions Book 7) (12 page)

They were noticed, and as they made the rounds, networking with other power players, photographers and paparazzi snapped their photo. Both knew that before the night was out their images would be all over the fashion blogs and websites. It would be the best kind of free advertisement.

From the other side of the room Jean-Paul saw them enter together, arm in arm. There was a glow to Natalie’s face that he didn’t recall ever seeing before. When he saw her with that designer, Tinjin Braddy, he struggled to hide his surprise and keep a smile on his face. He strode quickly to their sides to greet them.

“Natalia! Tinjin!
Bonjour!
Welcome to my event!” He was annoyingly loud and his tone was a hint abrasive.

Tinjin extended his hand. “Jean-Paul, thank you for having us.”

“It’s my pleasure. And of course, I’m sure you know that Natalia is one of my very favorite people!”

Tinjin eased a possessive arm around her waist and gently pulled her against him. He leaned to kiss her forehead, pressing a damp kiss to her skin. “She is mine, as well,” he said as he locked eyes with the man.

Both could see Jean-Paul bristle, jealous anger washing over his expression. The man took a deep breath, fighting to contain his emotion. “Natalia, you didn’t tell me you had a personal relationship with Mr. Braddy.”

Natalie pressed a warm palm against Tinjin’s chest. “I didn’t tell you because it’s none of your business, Jean-Paul,” she said, a bright smile on her face. She tilted her head ever so slightly, aware of the cameras pointed in her direction.

There was a noticeable twitch over Jean-Paul’s eye and he clenched his fists tightly together at his sides. He twitched and then nodded his head. “Well, I need to go greet my other guests. You two enjoy your evening,” he said as he turned abruptly and rushed toward the other side of the room.

Tinjin and Natalie tossed each other a quick look. “That was almost pleasant,” he said.

“That man can’t be trusted,” she responded. “Don’t turn your back on him because if he gets the opportunity he will stab you in it. One day I’ll tell you about some of the things I’ve seen him do.”

Tinjin laughed. He kissed her mouth. “I’m not worried about Jean-Paul,” he said.

Natalie smiled as she hugged him close. Despite her casual expression, she couldn’t help but think that they needed to worry.

An hour or so later Natalie and Tinjin stood in conversation with the team from Chanel. Laughter rang warmly as Tinjin told a joke. Both were making a very nice impression. The moment was interrupted when Jean-Paul called for everyone’s attention, moving to the front of the room as he waved his hands in the air for silence. They all turned to hear his speech.

After thanking them for coming and extolling the talents of all in the room, he gestured to a man and woman standing off to the side to join him at the podium. He introduced Claude Von Brett and his wife Jourdan.

“Ladies and gentlemen, it’s really my honor to announce my recent partnership with Jourdan Claude. I will officially join the team as director of artistic development and we’re excited about the new line we will soon be bringing to you.”

Tinjin sighed. He muttered in a loud whisper. “I guess I just got my answer about his investment.”

“You don’t need his money,” Natalie said matter-of-factly. “I’ll give you whatever you need. I’ll be your partner.”

Tinjin’s neck snapped as he turned to stare down at her. “Do you know what you’re saying?”

She nodded. “You want a line of credit. I happen to have a few million in the bank just earning interest. Consider credit given. In return, I’m the official face of Tin-men for Her—clothes and shoes. We can hammer out the rest of the details later. Deal?” She extended her hand.

There was a moment of pause as Tinjin stared at her, his eyes bright with wonder. He took her hand in his. “Deal!”

The two broke out in warm laughter as Tinjin wrapped her in a deep bear hug. His kissed her cheek, then her lips, oblivious to the attention they were getting from the crowd around them.

Jean-Paul interrupted the moment. Having concluded his speech he’d left the podium and made his way to stand beside them before either realized it. Natalie jumped when he cleared his throat to get their attention.

“Tinjin, I regret that I’m not going to be able to invest in your little shoe business,” Jean-Paul announced loudly. He quickly looked over his shoulder to the audience watching and grinned.

Tinjin widened his stance, his body tensing slightly. He smiled politely. “Congratulations on your deal with Jourdan Claude. I wish you all much success.”

“Oh, we will be successful,” Jean-Paul said. His voice dropped to a low whisper. “And while that’s happening I plan to destroy you!” he hissed between clenched teeth. “I promise you that. If it’s the very last thing I do I will make sure your little shoe line never sees the light of day and any little glimmer of hope it might have will be discredited. When I’m done, your name won’t mean anything in the fashion world. You’re already a has-been and you don’t even know it.” He turned to Natalie. “When you’re ready to be back on top, playing in the big leagues, Natalia, call me. I might be willing to take you back.”

As Jean-Paul walked away, the whispering began and Tinjin and Natalie both sensed it wasn’t going to stop anytime soon.

Chapter 13

J
ean-Paul Vivier was methodical in his plot to take down Tinjin Braddy. He hit him hard and below the belt, his reach greater than Tinjin or Natalie wanted to believe. Frustration furrowed Tinjin’s brow as he slammed down his cell phone, sending the device shattering to the ground. Natalie blew a low breath of air past her lips.

“So what do we do now?” she questioned.

Tinjin tossed up his hands. “What can I do? There isn’t one supplier willing to sell me the materials I need. It’s like he’s blackballed me from here to the States and back. I can’t get leathers. I can’t get suede. Nothing! And the few places that have been willing to sell to me have jacked the prices up past the point of ridiculous. I’ll never be able to make any shoes within a reasonable budget at those prices.

“Add in the fact that I have an entire plant that’s not operating but costing me money and employees who are ready to jump ship. Every day that goes by things just go from bad to worse.”

Enraged, Tinjin threw a punch at the wall. “Aargh!”

“We’re going to get past this,” Natalie said. “We’re not going to let Jean-Paul beat us.”

Tinjin shook his head. “You don’t understand. My entire life savings is going up in flames. There are people who trusted me with their investments and right now I’m watching their money go up in flames, too. I don’t know if I can get past this.”

“We still have my money.”

“What sense does that make?” Tinjin questioned, annoyance flooding his face. “Why would I throw good money after bad? I can’t borrow any more money when I don’t know how I’m going to pay back what I already owe.”

“Let me make some calls,” Natalie said. “I’m sure I can get some help from somewhere.”

Tinjin rolled his eyes, not an ounce of confidence registering on his face. He didn’t bother to comment, instead moving back to his computer as Natalie proceeded to dial the few friends she thought might be able to offer them some advice. Desperate to get his mind off his current situation he began to scroll through the daily fashion sites that kept him in the know.

It was a
Women’s Wear Daily
feature that captured his attention. As he read through the article, his jaw tightened and perspiration beaded across his brow. From where she sat Natalie could see him becoming visibly distressed. He suddenly jumped from his seat, gasping for air.

“What’s wrong?” Natalie asked, jumping with him. “Are you okay?”

“My designs!” he said, pointing toward the computer screen. “They stole my designs!”

Natalie moved to where he pointed, the headline announcing the launch of Jourdan Claude’s new shoe line. The assemblage had been photographed in a room full of toddlers, a half-dozen little girls playing dress-up as a collection of stylish shoes littered the floor around them. Each pair had come directly out of Tinjin’s portfolio.

“How did they steal my designs?” Tinjin shouted, ire flooding his spirit. “Those are my designs!”

Confusion washed over Natalie’s face. “I don’t understand...” she started.

“What’s not to understand? I designed those shoes, not Jourdan Claude. Every one of those designs is mine!” He slammed back into his seat and resumed the slideshow one more time.

“This is not happening to me,” Tinjin shouted, rubbing his eyes and brow with the palms of his hands. “God, why is this happening to me?” he muttered.

“I can call him,” Natalie said. “I can call Jean-Paul and demand he stop.”

Tinjin tossed her a look. “What? Why would you call him? Why would you want...?”

“I’m just trying to help,” Natalie snapped. “Jean-Paul used to listen to me.”

Tinjin bristled. “Did he? Because you were the only other person to see those designs. You had access to my work. I trusted you.” He suddenly slapped his forehead. “Foolish me! I left those designs here with you. Did your friend manage to get my creations into his pocket with help from you?”

Natalie became indignant. “First, he’s not my friend. Second, I’ve never given you any reason to not trust me. I didn’t give Jean-Paul your designs.”

“When was the last time you saw him?” Tinjin questioned.

Her eyes skated back and forth as she contemplated the question. She took a deep breath. “It was a day or two after his party. He just showed up here at the house.”

“You didn’t think to tell me about that?”

“You were in Paris. And there was nothing to tell. I let him say what he had to say and then I sent him packing.” Natalie sighed deeply.

“You let him say what he had to say. And what, pray tell, was that?”

Another deep breath rushed past her lips. She thought back to her last encounter with Jean-Paul. He’d come begging, desperate to make amends with her. Despite the conversation having been heartfelt, Jean-Paul’s apology seeming genuine, she’d been skeptical, her past experiences with the man leaving her cautious. But she hadn’t told Tinjin, knowing it would have led to the argument they were now having. Her instincts had told her to tell him the minute Jean-Paul had left her home but she’d shrugged the encounter off, wanting to believe that it was done and finished for good.

Natalie became defensive. “Don’t yell at me.”

“I’m not yelling!” Tinjin shouted. “What did your boyfriend say?”

She stood up abruptly. “If you want to have a conversation with me then you talk to me like you have some damn sense. I have never shouted at you so you will not shout at me. And he is
not
my boyfriend and you know it!”

Tinjin’s face was red with rage. Steam seemed to billow off his skin. “Did you give Jean-Paul copies of my drawings?”

“Are you really asking me that?”

“Did you leave them where he could see them?”

Natalie shook her head in disbelief. “I didn’t leave them anywhere. If anyone left them exposed, it was you.”

“This was
our
home. I thought I could trust leaving my stuff here and not have it stolen by the company you keep.”

“Excuse you, but this is
my
home. You’re a guest.”

Tinjin bristled. “So it’s like that?”

Natalie dropped her hands to her hips. Her own anger did nothing to stall every vile emotion spinning between them. “You moved to Paris, remember?”

Tinjin nodded, his head bobbing up and down slowly. He reached for his jacket. “I’ll make arrangements to get my personal belongings out of
your
home,” he snapped as he headed for the door.

Natalie called after him, unable to fathom how they’d gotten to the point of no return. “Tinjin!”

Saying nothing, Tinjin rushed out the door. He didn’t bother to glance back in her direction, leaving Natalie to stand there in complete dismay.

* * *

“You stole his designs?” Natalie stormed into Jean-Paul’s office, ignoring the assistant and the security person that tried to stop her. “What kind of monster are you?”

Jean-Paul waved off his staff members, gesturing for his secretary to close the door. He leaned back in his leather chair, clasping his hands together in his lap. Amusement painted his expression. “I don’t know what you are talking about,
chérie
,” he said. “Tell me what has happened.”

“You know what happened. You stole Tinjin’s shoe designs and you gave them to Jourdan Claude to pass off as their own.”

“That would be industrial espionage,” Jean-Paul said with a smirk. “How can you think I’d do such a thing? Is that the kind of man you think me?”

Crossing the room Natalie slammed her leather handbag against the desk top, marring the polished wood. “You came into my home and you stole from me. You can lie all you want but I know you did it.”

Jean-Paul narrowed his gaze. He thought back to what he had done. Discovering Tinjin Braddy’s drawings lying on the coffee table in Natalia’s
living room had been a moment of revelation for him. Her connection to the young designer had felt like a slap in his face, most especially after everything he had planned for the two of them. He’d been convinced that he could sway her to him, his wealth, power and connections significant motivators for many women. But Natalia had refused to be moved. Her throwing her relationship with the man in his face had been the last straw. If he couldn’t have her, then the man who did had to suffer the consequences of her choices.

It had only taken a brief moment, when Natalia had left the room, for him to snap multiple photos of the drawings with his iPhone. Partnering with Jourdan Claude had only been the means to an end. Cutting off Tinjin’s supply lines had given him enough time to bring those drawings from concept to completion. Now, if Tinjin were able to make those shoes, his would be branded as knockoffs and Tinjin a designer with no fresh ideas of his own. He knew that it would take little more to bleed the man completely dry, his financial resources shriveling considerably.

Jean-Paul leaned forward, cutting an evil eye in her direction. “I told you I would destroy him. You should have believed me.”

Tears sprang to Natalie’s eyes. “How can you say you love me, then want me to be hurt? I don’t get that.”

“I never wanted to hurt you, Natalia, but you needed to see that he doesn’t deserve you. You deserve a rich, powerful man who is going to look after you and take care of your every need. You needed to see that he is nothing. He’s beneath you. I can give you the world.”

She moved her head slowly from side to side. “I love him. He is everything I have ever wanted in a man. It’s you who’s beneath me. You don’t come close to being a quarter of the man Tinjin is. You’re a liar and a thief and I hope you rot in hell,” she concluded.

Jean-Paul laughed. “There are worse things that could happen to me than rotting in hell,” he said. “Just ask your lover!”

* * *

Natalie was hopeful as she dialed Tinjin’s number for the umpteenth time. Since storming out of her home he hadn’t taken any of her calls and he had not bothered to return her messages. She wanted to be angry that he was angry with her but instead she found herself overwhelmingly sad. And hopeful that if she kept trying, he would eventually come around.

She couldn’t begin to figure out how to fix what was broken between them. Never before had any man been able to get under her skin the way Tinjin was, every thought of him like a bad virus with no cure. She missed him. She missed him so much that it hurt, the loneliness like nothing she’d ever experienced before. His distancing himself from her was devastating despite her best efforts to pretend otherwise.

She disconnected the line when it went to voice mail. There was no point in leaving a message Tinjin would probably just ignore. The sadness that washed over her spirit was ravenous. It was thriving and nothing Natalie tried made it go away. She was lost in thought when the notification announcement chimed on her cell phone. She read the message quickly, then moved to her computer, booting up the device.

Minutes later Natalie heaved a deep sigh. It felt like there was no end to just how low Jean-Paul was prepared to stoop. Now he was giving interviews, disparaging Tinjin’s name and hers. Her fellow fashion bloggers couldn’t wait to share the information with her, notification after notification chiming in the background.

As she read the indictment of Tinjin’s talents and her abilities, her own ire rose with a vengeance. There would be just enough interest to get people talking and enough people talking that any condemnation of them could impact their reputations. And she wasn’t having it. Both she and Tinjin had worked too hard to go down without a major fight. And if Tinjin wouldn’t hear her out, she knew people who would. Moving back to her phone, Natalie dialed and waited for her international call to connect.

* * *

Tinjin’s Paris home was located in the super-chic eighth arrondissement or administrative district of France’s capital. Situated on the right bank of the Seine and centered on the Champs-Élysées, the eighth was one of Paris’s main business districts. It was central to the best shopping and dining that the city had to offer and he loved its classic Parisian vibe and energy.

Pacing the hardwood floors, he couldn’t begin to know why he was there, alone and miserable, missing Natalie with every ounce of energy he had in his soul. It had been weeks since he’d stormed out of her home and had left London, still furious about the theft of his work.

Pure rage had fueled their last argument. Rage and hurt that everything he’d been working so hard for was falling apart before his eyes. Despite knowing deep in his heart that Natalie had done nothing to purposely hurt him, he’d blamed her anyway and all because of her ties to Jean-Paul Vivier.

He blew a deep sigh as he moved from one end of the living space to the other. Minutes later his new cell phone rang, vibrating harshly against the kitchen table. He didn’t bother to look at the caller ID. His most recent calls had all been bad news and despite Natalie’s best efforts to reach him, he’d refused to answer, unable to find the words to apologize and still stinging from the hurt of everything that had happened to him.

He wasn’t expecting the doorbell to ring, and when it did he jumped, caught off guard. Moving to the front of the home he peered past the curtains of the front window to peek out at the front stoop. His eyes widened in surprise as he rushed to the door and pulled it open.

His sister Tierra and their grandmother both stood with their hands on their hips, their no-nonsense expressions greeting him. Matthew Stallion stood behind them, a sheepish grin on his face.

“Why didn’t you answer your phone?” Tierra said in greeting as she pushed her way inside. She hugged her brother close, kissing his cheek.

“I like this!” Mama Dee exclaimed as her gaze swept over his living space. She patted his chest with a warm hand. “This two bedrooms or three?”

Matthew laughed as he extended his hand and shook Tinjin’s. “It’s good to see you again.”

“What’s going on?” Tinjin questioned, surprise and confusion still blanketing his expression. “What are you all doing here?”

“Natalie called us. Now I’m here to rescue my investment,” Mama Dee said. “Where’s the kitchen? I think better when I’m cooking.”

Wide-eyed, Tinjin pointed and his grandmother followed the line of his finger, disappearing toward the back of the home.