House Of Payne: Scout (8 page)

“No.”

“Has she mentioned Eliane—my mother,” he amended, merely as an afterthought, “having a connection to Chicago?”

“No.” Maceio’s eyes narrowed. “Do you think she knows why you’ve really come to Chicago?”

“It wouldn’t surprise me if she suspected something.” Then he shook his head. It didn’t matter what Albertine knew or suspected. His path was set. “There’s nothing else to do but keep going the way I have been. I have a date tomorrow with Scout, so we’ll see if I make any progress there. For now, keep feeding my grandmother the official line—I’m changing my career focus by becoming a photographic artist, and my first project’s based on famous House Of Payne tattoos. Since there’s no other tattoo studio in the world like the House, it’s an excellent cover for why I’m really here.”

“Understood.” But Maceio didn’t leave him, instead looking at him with a worried frown. “Ivar…”

His preoccupied gaze landed on his assistant. “What is it?”

“You do know that you don’t have anything to prove, right? Especially to that withered-up old cunt.
I
know who you are. Estelle knows. Finding proof isn’t going to make any difference to Baroness Bitch. You must know that. And if you don’t find a way to understand that—”

“This isn’t about my grandmother, Maceio.” He paused, struggling to find the truth beneath all the layers of deep-rooted rage grinding away in his gut. “Hoping for Albertine’s acceptance hasn’t been a blip on my radar screen in decades. I don’t want anything from her now, except her absence from my life. This is about me.
I
need this.”

“Have you considered the possibility that after all this searching, you might find something you won’t like?”

“I expect that to be the case.” Because that was what life was like—holding out the faintest possibility that everything might turn out all right, only to become total shit the moment hope took root. But for his own peace of mind, he had to know the truth. “Stop worrying about me. I know what I’m doing.”

Though, as Maceio left for his place and Ivar disappeared into his partially unpacked office while texting Estelle, he couldn’t help but think those sounded like famous last words.

“Finally.” His manager’s cultured voice sounded downright crabby when he answered her call about a minute later. Usually Estelle McGahee did everything with a smoothly low-key composure, but apparently she was a different person past her bedtime. “Have you really been interviewing Scout Upton for five hours, or are you avoiding me?”

“I have been learning how to Chicken Dance.” That wasn’t completely true. He’d managed to avoid doing the actual dance. But he’d learned what part of the dance he liked.

There was a beat of silence. “You’re joking.”

“No.” The perfection of Scout’s ass was nothing to joke about.

“You’re incapable of doing anything that’s not proper and dignified. Did someone have you at gunpoint?”

He sighed. Did he really come off as that repressed? He was no more than what he’d been trained to be, just like any other dumb animal made to jump through an endless sea of hoops. “What was it that was so urgent you had to contact me on a weekend, Estelle? I know you must be busy with other clients, and I know you do not have anything scheduled for me until the beginning of the month.”

“Right. Yeah. Um, about that whole not-working-until-April thing. That’s become a teeny little sticking point that I need to talk to you about.”

A schedule change. Goddamn it. “
No,
Estelle. Do not even
think
about it.”

“Now, Ivar—”

“You know what I am trying to do. You know that I have no time to waste. Scout Upton is on holiday until the beginning of April, which means I have an opportunity to get some answers. Because of this, I told you that I cannot accept any more contracts until that time. There should not be a problem here.”

“I had a long chat with Liesl’s agent. Liesl is unexpectedly available now that Fashion Week is over, and
Haute
magazine has decided they want her as their August cover.”

“Liesl.” He rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Fuck.”

“Mm-hm. Everyone’s favorite model.”

“Fuck,” he muttered again. He’d rather do the Chicken Dance on his grandmother’s formal dining room table than deal with that photogenic but unfortunate head case. “Will all of my stipulations be met when it comes to working with her? If not, I do not even know why we are having this conversation.”

“According to her agent, Liesl handled Fashion Week with only one mini-tantrum, and she was there for every single one of her shows. She’s on her meds and her people have agreed to have her therapist onsite when you’re there.”

“If she is late by so much as a minute, I walk. I refuse to wait like a dumbass for her—or
anyone
—while they sit sulking in their trailer because they do not have the right bottled water.”

“That’s not going to happen again.”

“Damn right.” He rubbed at his eyes once more. It wasn’t more satisfying than roaring his frustration at the top of his lungs, but it’d have to do. “When and where do they want to shoot?”

“Jamaica, at the end of March, which is…” He heard a couple taps on a keyboard. “Two weeks from now. Can you wrap up your, er… investigation by then?”

“No.” Then he shook his head. “I have no idea.”

Estelle made a sound of sympathy. “How’s it coming?”

With the exception of stumbling across the hottest woman he’d ever been lucky enough to lay eyes on, this journey of his was striking out in the worst way. “I suspect the only correct information Marcel Dubois gave me was his first and last name. Everything else is starting to look like nothing more than a fantasy-filled load of bullshit.”

“But Dubois was Frank Bournival’s assistant. He was present when Bournival funded House Of Payne’s beginning.”

“I have no doubt that Marcel Dubois knew the basics of the deal. But to say that Scout Upton traded sex for that funding, then carried that mercenary practice further by sleeping her way into a sick old man’s will is ridiculous.”

“I don’t know,” came the thoughtful reply. “From what you’ve told me about this Scout Upton, she came from the inner city, right?”

“Right. So?’

“So… a smart girl—and a pretty girl—would do just about anything to get out of that concrete hell.”

“
Enough
.” The heat of unformed fury seethed from that one word, leaving shocked silence in its wake. But it couldn’t be helped. Whatever happened between Scout and Frank Bournival was years ago. He wouldn’t have it taint the amazing woman she was now.

“Ivar.” Estelle’s voice was both careful and gentle. “I’m not judging, okay? Her, or you.”

“You have no idea who this woman really is.”

“I hate to say it, but neither do you.”

“Yes, I do. I have looked into her eyes. I know who she is, and it is not what that Dubois asshole claimed.”

“Why would he lie?”

The calm, eminently logical question made him want to throw his phone. Instead he grabbed up his camera with his free hand and once again searched for Scout’s place. There she was, in a frilly, girlie bit of nothing sitting on the edge of her big bed rubbing some kind of lotion on her lower legs.

In an instant he calmed, the angry churning inside him stilling into a beautiful peace as he watched her hand glide over her flesh. He’d bet anything that whatever she was rubbing into her skin smelled like flowers. Roses, maybe. Or honeysuckle.

Damn. It was a crime she didn’t sleep naked. If she did, she’d probably rub it all over her body before going to bed.

He’d be happy to help her with that, if and when he ever got the chance.

And he’d do fucking
anything
to get that chance.

“Maybe Dubois felt he got shafted in Bournival’s will,” he answered at last, shifting in his seat when his flesh swelled so fast the pressure behind his zipper became a sweet, teeth-gritting agony. “Maybe the man is pissed she became successful with House Of Payne while he never set the world on fire. Who knows?” All he knew at the moment was that if he didn’t do something soon, he’d empty himself right there in his shorts.

He heard his manager sigh. “Ultimately, you need to find out one thing, and one thing only—if she knows what Frank Bournival’s connection is to you, if any. Right?”

“Right.”

“You’ve got a couple more weeks to figure it out, so stay zeroed in on that. But then life has to go on, Ivar. And your life isn’t in Chicago.”

Like that was a newsflash, he thought, tossing the phone absently on the desk to focus through the lens. Of course Chicago wasn’t where his life was.

But as he watched Scout smooth lotion on her arms and over her shoulders, then reach under the lacy cups of her little girlie gown to touch her breasts, he forgot all about where his life should and shouldn’t be. All that mattered at that moment was Scout.

And whether or not he could get his damn fly open one-handed.

Chapter Eight

“If you ever again tell me you don’t know any men to be your plus-one at a party,” Sass announced as she settled into a padded chair, “I’m going to slap your lying little mouth until your lips fly off your face.”

“Nice.” Scout opened her menu and did her best to ignore the other woman’s smirk. Personally she wouldn’t have had any problem with hitting a fast food joint for lunch, but Sass didn’t roll that way. In her book eating out meant being waited on through two or three courses, with no trans fat anywhere to be found. Sass had standards, and she never wavered from them. “For your information, my date last night wasn’t a
man
. He’s an enigma. A mystery. And most definitely, he’s
trouble
.”

“He’s a man, you weirdo. All that other crap is just the spice that makes him even more yummilicious than he already is.”

“Did you really just use a word that belongs in a twelve-year-old’s vocabulary?”

“Don’t tell me it doesn’t fit.”

“Whatever.” Though Scout tried to fight it, the memory of Ivar’s mind-blowing kiss replayed in her mind. If his kisses were put before a blind test panel, nine women out of ten would approve, with the tenth checking the wrong box because she was so blown away.

At least, that was how she felt. Twelve hours later, and she still hadn’t recovered.

After they gave their orders, Sass folded her arms on the table and leaned forward. “Okay, no more dancing around. One minute you’re dateless and freaking out in my kitchen, and the next you’re sticking your tongue down the throat of the most gorgeous man who has ever walked this earth. Where’d you find him, Supermodels R Us?”

Geez
. “Funny you should say that. Back in the day, Ivar was a supermodel.”

“Ivar? His name is
Ivar
?” Sass flung herself back in her chair as if she’d been shot, and a hand came to clutch at her chest. “Ohhhhhhh, fuck me.”

“Ha-ha.”

“No, seriously. I see a guy who looks like that, with those superhero shoulders and sexy accent, who’s named freaking
Ivar
, and you can bet those words would be the first ones out of my mouth—
fuck me
. Oh, and
please
. Mustn’t forget my manners.”

“Well… yeah.” Scout had the grace to smile sheepishly. “I may have had those exact same thoughts when I first met him. Including the
please
part. I can admit I’m not above begging.”

“Where
did
you meet him? Wherever it was, I gotta go there.”

“At the House. I’ve known him for a while now, but last night in the parking lot was the first time we took things past the boundaries of the professional arena.”

“Professional arena.” Sass’s gamine face sharpened with a wicked grin, and for a moment she looked like the living definition of her name. “Girl, you took it out of the
professional arena
the moment you dragged that man’s super-fine ass to the party. And don’t think I didn’t see you booty-shaking up on him, offering him a whole lot of something-something that any guy with a pulse would have jumped on. You had Mr. Ivar Yummilicious so wound up, I half-expected him to bend you over and backdoor you right there on the dance floor.”

“
Sass
.” Her jaw dropped even as her face decided now was a great time to become as hot as the surface of the sun. “I wasn’t offering up anything. I was just… dancing.” Sure. She’d just been dancing.

Like exotic dancers were just dancing.

Yeah, right.

The look her former foster sister gave her agreed with her internal assessment. “You’ve got to be out of your mind if you think anyone’s going to buy that.”

“Then I must be out of my mind.”

“What’s with you?” Sass tilted her head curiously. “You’re not usually so reluctant to admit you’ve made a connection with someone. In fact, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been freaked out by the way you cannonball into the deep end when it comes to relationships.”

“I don’t cannonball.”

“This is the first time I can remember that you haven’t cannonballed.” When Scout merely shrugged, Sass’s smile slowly faded. “What’s wrong?”

“If I’m not cannonballing, it’s probably because Ivar trips my trouble alarm. So much so that I’ve nicknamed him Trouble.”

Sass snapped straight up in her chair, eyes wide. Well, well. Clearly in Sass’s opinion, the vaunted trouble alarm was nothing to screw around with. “Why? Wait, have you looked into his background? He might have a record or something.”

“I did a complete background check.”

“And?”

“He’s so clean he squeaks, which is weird in itself, considering he works in the highest echelons of the fashion industry. I thought all the Beautiful People had a rep for being hardcore partiers with nasty drug habits, life-threatening eating disorders, or at the very least had more money than brains and made fools of themselves because of it. But aside from being a sexual exhibitionist with members of royalty and movie stars, he’s rock solid.”

That made Sass blink. “Wow.”

“I know, right?”

“Maybe he’s got a weird kink.”

“Did you miss the sexual exhibitionist part?”

“No, that’s just normal kink,” Sass said, waving that away while Scout snorted. “I mean, something so dangerous it’s enough to make your survival instinct hit the panic button.”

“Not that I can find.”

“Has he mentioned a penchant for safe words?”

Good grief. “No. And even if he did, having pet safe words doesn’t mean he’s a dangerous guy.”

“Yeah, but it would be an indicator that vanilla isn’t his flavor of choice.” Absently she sipped at her water. “When was it that you first sensed he was trouble?”

“The moment he smiled at me with eyes that were totally blank.” Then she shrugged just as their waiter approached with cups of parmesan tomato bisque and Cobb salads. “That’s my trigger, Sass. Right from the very beginning, that’s what has struck me as being so wrong. He approached me like he had something to hide. Nobody does that unless they really are trying to hide something, right?”

“Depends.” Sass seesawed her hand before reaching for a soup spoon. “You said he approached you. What’d he want?”

“Something only Payne can give him, not me. And that’s another reason why I’m suspicious. He knows I don’t have the power the grant him full access to House Of Payne, so why the hell does he keep popping up wherever I am?” She shook her head as she reached for the cup of salad dressing. “It reminds me too much of Vishous for comfort.”

“Aha.”

Scout looked up. “Aha, what?”

Sass pointed her spoon at her. “Maybe that’s another reason why your first instinct isn’t to trust this new guy. If you’ll forgive the rhyme, Ivar Yummilicious reminds you of Vishous.”

Scout burst out laughing, then clapped a hand over her mouth when she realized how loud she was. “I said his
behavior
reminds me of Vishous, but that’s as far as it goes. Vishous was like his name—dark and edgy, pierced in all the right places, had a closet full of Korn concert T-shirts and his hobby was collecting vodka bottles from blow-out parties to be displayed like trophies on his mantel. On the other hand, Ivar is descended from ancient French nobility, bilingual, a world traveler, prefers haute couture even on casual Fridays, and is the most sophisticated human being I have ever met or will ever meet in my life. But other than that, hell yeah, they’re practically twins.”

“I’m just saying they’re both extremely intense, especially when it comes to
you
.” Sass took her time to enjoy her soup, all the while watching her closely. “As much as I hated what Vishous did to you, using you just to worm his way into the House, I always felt a little sorry for that asshole.”

“Sorry for him?” Scout paused in dressing her salad, hardly able to believe her ears. “Why would you feel sorry for Vishous? He got exactly what he wanted—an exclusive story printed in
Rolling Stone
magazine.”

“Yeah, but he got it at the expense of losing you.”

“Trust me, that was a loss he was happy to take. So happy he laughed about it,” she added darkly, her appetite waning fast. Not that she cared about that epic douche anymore. But the memory of being made a fool of still stung, even after all the years that had passed.

Sass made a sound of comfort, as if she knew that scarred-over wound still made Scout ache. “I’m just saying that when you were together, there was a kind of ferocity about it. I got that same vibe between you and Ivar when I stumbled upon the two of you in the parking lot last night.”

“There was no vibe. It was a kiss.” Admittedly, it was the greatest kiss she’d ever experienced. Now she feared she might be doomed to compare all other kisses to that one, and find them all hopelessly lacking.

Sass lifted a brow. “Yeah. But it wasn’t a kiss. That was like… like sex between mouths.”

No kidding. “What can I say, the guy’s good at it. God knows he gets enough practice. You should see some of the paparazzi photos that pop up on Ivar. Go ahead and Google him—you’ll particularly enjoy the picture of him on a yacht screwing a movie star while having a butt-naked supermodel sit on his face. Both women had their mouths so wide open it looked like they were trying to out-scream each other.”

“I imagine they were,” Sass said absently, studying her. “Aha.”

“What, again?” When her former foster sister didn’t respond, Scout sighed impatiently. “What?”

“I’ve never considered you the type to suffer from low self-esteem, but I guess everyone has their Achilles’ heel. Apparently sinfully beautiful men with mega hot accents hit your insecurity button.”

“What are you talking about? I’m not feeling insecure.”

“Scout, you’re muttering about this guy screwing models and movie stars like it just happened ten minutes ago.”

“So?”

“So, that means it’s obviously right up there in the forefront of your mind.”

Damn it, she hated that Sass was right. “Maybe I’m just trying to make a point.”

“What point would that be?”

“It just seems weird to me that a man who can have anyone in the world—literally,
any
woman in the world—has decided that
I’m
his special brand of yummy.” She shook her head as she finally put a voice to the half-formed worry that had been nagging at her day and night. “Maybe that’s why my trouble alarm is going off. It just doesn’t make sense that a perfect man like Ivar would pay any attention to me.
Unless
, of course, he’s just like Vishous, and he’s working some kind of angle to get into the House.”

“Oh, my God.” Eyes suddenly ablaze, Sass banged the hand that held her spoon against the table, making her jump. “Forget about feeling sorry for Vishous, if that’s the wound he left in you. I’ll fucking kill that guy if I ever see him again.”

Eep
. “Trust me, you won’t.”

“You have no idea how amazing you are, do you? You’re a knockout, with boobs as big as my frigging head,” she went on before Scout could take a breath. “You’re an organizational genius, and you’d work your fingers to the bone for Payne because you’re the living definition of loyalty. You’re funny. You’re driven, you’re a free spirit and a genuine, honest person who has the kindest heart in the entire world.”

She felt her face heat up. “Sass, stop.”

She flapped her hands like she was trying to erase Scout’s words.” Do you want to know what I saw when I came up on you and your supermodel in the parking lot?”

“
Former
supermodel, and he’s not mine.”

“I saw a man trying to devour a woman he’s desperate to fuck, and he was ready to go at it right then and there. He was so totally lost in you that I wouldn’t be surprised if he forgot where he was in the heat of the moment.”

“If he did, that would’ve made two of us.” All too clearly Scout recalled just how ready his body had been to take hers. Then she bit her lip when her own body heated up in all the right places. “He does know how to do a kiss up right.”

“Whatever this Ivar dude wants from Payne has nothing to do with what he obviously wanted from you last night, Scout. That’s why I say he might be your Achilles’ heel. You’re not threatened by ordinary guys—hell, you love them as much as I do. And you love it even more when they’re into you.”

“Can’t deny that.”

“Your alarm doesn’t go off when an ordinary guy is hot for you, right? But your guy last night—your idea of perfection—sets off your inner alarm. Why do you think that is? If he were an ordinary guy, with the same blank smile, would your trouble alarm be going off? ”

Scout hesitated, trying to imagine if she would find Ivar’s motives so wildly suspicious if he had an unattractive and possibly hairy beer gut and bad teeth. Then, when her imagination refused to cough up such sacrilege, she shook her head. “It’s just… there are times when his eyes go so empty, almost like he’s become this weird robotic version of himself. Usually when a person shuts down like that, they’re holding something back, and that freaks me right the hell out, Sass.”