House Of Payne: Scout (23 page)

Aha. There he was, the real Rude. “Here’s the thing… if Sass attends every other party involving the Panuzzi family except your welcome-home shindig—and you can’t see what that means—it’s not my problem. It’d be great if you guys could find a way to get along, but if you can’t, you can’t. I’m done playing peacemaker between you two.”

Rude’s black brows shot up. “Whoa, sister. I wasn’t trying to start anything.”

“Glad to hear it, because I’m in the mood to finish anything, and I doubt you’d want that at your own party. You get me?”

“Loud and clear.” He nodded, eyeing her warily. Damn, she should have taken a bitchier line from day one, if his total compliance was the result. “You okay?”

“Yes. No.” Then she shook her head. “Just hating the common stray’s belief that one strike and you’re out is the way the world is supposed to work.”

“Huh? Scout—”

“I really am glad you’re home safe and sound, Rude. It’s great to see you.” With a forced smile and a wave to the men behind him—currently bickering over the definition of what medium-rare was—she tried to make a swift exit.

“Theresa! Come give your mother a hug.”

Shit.

It was getting harder to keep the smile in place as she made her way to Mama Coco, taking the seat Tonya’s husband courteously vacated so Scout could sit next to her. Desperately she wanted to keep Adam there, but after a quick hug of greeting he made a beeline for Tonya and his daughter.

And to think, she’d almost made a clean getaway.

“Look at you, sweetie.” Leaning over for hugs and kisses, Mama Coco patted Scout’s hand while looking her over with those sharp, eternally mothering eyes of hers. “That dress is so bright and happy, perfect for a party.”

Good topic, she thought, hope rising. Now if she could just get away before any mention of Ivar… “Thanks, Mama Coco. Dandelion yellow is my favorite.”

“Hm. Unfortunately you usually wear that bright and happy dress when you’re feeling down. Is everything okay with you and Ivar? I notice he didn’t come in with you.”

Goddamn it
. “Everything’s… fine.”

Mama Coco blinked. “Theresa, did you just lie to my face?”

Oh, man. “It a party for Rude, Mama Coco. I’m not going to bring my problems into something like that.”

“You’re not bringing problems, you’re sharing with your mother who’s nosy and won’t let you go until you cough up at least a little something. And don’t tell me you weren’t trying to get out of here without talking to me. I’ve seen too many of you kids ducking out without trying to be noticed. I know the look.”

Scout sighed. There was really no avoiding it now. “Something broke between Ivar and me. He started the break, and I finished it. Now I don’t know if it can be fixed, and I wouldn’t know how to try to fix it even if I wanted to. Which is odd, coming from me. I can scout out anyone else’s trouble and get ahead of it. Fix it, if necessary. But with my own problems, I have no idea what to do.”

Mama Coco gave it a moment’s thought. “Take yourself out of the equation.”

“Sorry?”

“If you’re having trouble looking at the problem because it’s too close, take yourself out of the equation. Just think about what you’d do if Payne had your problem,” Mama Coco expanded, smiling at her continued bewilderment, “or Tonya, or Sass. If any of them had the situation you’re dealing with, what would you do?”

“Keep my nose out of their business.”

“Smarty pants. Try again.”

“I suppose I’d… I don’t know. Go to the root of the problem and work on it from there.”

“Ooh, nice plan.” Mama Coco nodded. “So what’s the root of the problem?”

It hurt to think about it, much less say it, but Mama Coco had a way of getting things out of her. “A lie. Or maybe it’s what’s behind the lie that is the real root of the problem.”

“Behind the lie?”

“There’s one driving force in Ivar’s life. He needs answers to some pretty deep questions,” she said, thinking it through. “I can sympathize, because answers are what I need right now. I know a lie brought him into my life—a life he wouldn’t have had anything to do with otherwise. I need to know if he genuinely felt a desire to be with me, or if he was just in my life to use me.”

That brought Coco’s brows down. “Ivar isn’t another Vishous, is he?”

God, would she never live that down? “I don’t know what he is, because without having the answers he’s looking for, his whole world is on hold. That means I’m on hold, too. If I could just get him the answers he needs, I’d have a clearer picture of what his motives really are.” She let out a slow breath. “And I might also have a clearer picture of what I need from him.”

“Sounds like you know what you’re talking about.” She squeezed her hand again. “Do you know what to do now?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe.” Feeling better than she had since she watched the elevator close on Ivar, she got to her feet and kissed the older woman. “I’ve got to get going, Mama Coco. Lots to do.”

“Keep me posted,” Mama Coco said.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Ivar pushed through the door of his hotel room, burdened with a heavy equipment bag and what had to be the worst mood in all of Jamaica. The shoot had turned out exactly as he’d expected it to—an absolute nightmare. An impossible model, a battalion of cringe-worthy sycophants and spring rain showers that wreaked havoc with the lighting. Add to that several sleepless nights, and he had the perfect recipe that turned even this tropical Eden into his idea of hell.

Estelle was lucky to be physically out of his reach. For the past three days he’d battled the desire to wring her neck for setting him up for this train wreck. At this point, he doubted even the magic of a blanket fort could brighten his mood.

With his mouth a grim line, he set his equipment bag by the door and headed determinedly toward his laptop. No blanket forts for him. They weren’t magical unless they had Scout in them, so there was no point. It would only make him more miserable.

Miserable
was a good word to describe him. He nearly doubled over every time Scout’s devastation surfaced in his thoughts. There was an edge of panic to the crushing sensation that now churned inside him, a panic worthy of being trapped in a burning building and no discernible way out. He might not be trapped, but he knew what the source of that fear was.

Deep down, he was scared to death he’d lost Scout.

He checked his email, pleased to see Payne had worked something out with the extra security Ivar had wanted around Scout’s workplace while he was out of town. He didn’t like that she had an enemy at House Of Payne, an enemy she’d called dangerous, and he seriously hated that he couldn’t be close by in case she needed him.

But the question was, would she ever need him again?

That awful crushing sensation intensified just as his cell phone went off. He took his time answering it, because it wasn’t the special ringtone he’d given Scout’s number, and he didn’t care about talking to anyone else.

“Estelle.” With a sigh, he pushed out of his chair and didn’t stop moving until he was out onto the hotel room’s narrow balcony, now awash in the orange glow of sunset. Far below, Montego Bay stretched out with its sugar-white beaches and turquoise water. He didn’t see any of it. “Before you say one word, you need to be warned. This has been the most fucked-up day I think I have ever endured as a professional photographer, and the blame is on you.”

“Me?” The shocked tone of his manager came through loud and clear. “What did I do?”

“You sold me a bill of goods with that crap about Liesl being on her meds and mending her ways. We were onsite only ten minutes before she began screaming shit at innocent passers-by for daring to watch the shoot, flipped them off, then turned around and began to dig sand up doggie-style through her legs to throw it all over me, the crew and all my equipment. If anything is damaged, who do you think should get the bill? You, or her?”

“You’ll never again hear me say that model’s name, I swear it,” came the quick reply. “And stick her with the bill, please. Whereas I’m an eternal optimist who believes in giving people a second chance, she’s the psycho bitch who deserves to take that hit.”

A second chance. Now there was something he’d give his left nut for. If he could rewind time and have a do-over with Scout, he’d be smart and tell her straight away what he was after, and let the chips fall where they may. Too late, he could see that was where he’d fucked up, and he’d made it even worse when he’d tried to come clean with her. He’d been so busy trying to dig himself out of the hole he’d made for himself that he’d forgotten to tell her that his so-called seduction hadn’t been part of some diabolical plan that he’d
had
to go through.

He’d done everything he could to get her into bed because he genuinely
wanted
her.

His childhood had sucked, but at least his first five years had been filled with the knowledge that he was worth love and attention. Scout had never had that. She’d just been shuffled from one place to another, by people who’d thought of her as a stray. Forever unwanted, forever unloved.

No wonder she couldn’t believe in him. When she’d been treated her whole life as a temporary transplant, she couldn’t believe that anyone wanted her permanently.

“I need to get back to Chicago,” he said, voice hollow as he stared blindly out at the bay. Feminine laughter floated on the breeze and it balled up the muscles in his stomach. It sounded so much like Scout he had to stop himself from looking around for her. “This was a fucking waste of my time.”

“Did you get any usable prints from the shoot?”

“I think I was able to capture the true essence of Liesl.”

“Oh, boy,” Estelle muttered, and he could just imagine her reaching for the ever-present bottle of antacids. “That’s never a good thing with you.”

“Of course it is. The camera does not lie, Estelle. The world will soon see what Liesl really is.”

“Which is?”

“She has become like the demons that drive her. She is gone. There is simply nothing left inside of her to believe in.”

You’ve left me with nothing to believe in when it comes to you.

He closed his eyes against the spasm of pain ripping him apart. It was like he suffered an invisible punch in the gut every time the memory of Scout’s anguish surfaced.

“I doubt the magazine will want to buy any demonic-looking photos of a soon-to-be has-been supermodel.”

He looked out at the bay once more. “I do not have a single fuck to give about that. The shoot yesterday and the day before lasted about as long as today’s, and all that is Liesl was put on full display for my camera to see. Maybe they can Photoshop some goodness into her.”

“It’s in your contract that no one can alter your work.”

“Then they get what Liesl showed me—her true face.”

“I don’t suppose I could talk you into giving it one more day?”

“Estelle, I already gave it an extra day. It is now Monday, and time to admit defeat.” Monday. Scout was back at work by now. Being in this paradise without her made it a bitter joke. “After I hang up with you, I will not give this hopeless assignment one more minute of my time. Liesl will not miraculously see the error of her ways and become a better human being. I am going home.”

“New York or Montreal?’

“I already said Chicago.”

There was a beat of silence. “Since when did Chicago become home?”

Fuck
. “Home is wherever I wish it to be.”

“I suppose that works out well for you, now that I think about it,” she said after a moment. “I just had a call from Scout Upton.”

He stopped. His breath stopped. His heart stopped. His blood paused in his veins. He’d never been more still in his life. If it weren’t for the fact that he could feel the gentle sea breeze feathering over his skin, he would have thought he’d turned to stone.

“She neither called nor texted me.” God knew he’d been listening for her ringtone every waking moment since he’d last seen her. He’d limited himself to texting her once a day, every day, since he’d been out of town, giving them both time to cool down and hopefully get a better perspective on things. She’d responded just once, wishing him “safe travels” when he’d told her he was headed to Jamaica for the shoot.

That was it.

Safe travels.

But that meant she knew he had his phone with him. If Scout had wanted to get in touch, she could have. Easily.

She’d just chosen not to.

Goddamn it.

“I had the impression she was in professional go-mode,” came Estelle’s reply when the silence dragged itself into the explosive realm. “Apparently she’s back at House Of Payne, with her vacation over and a trip to Canada behind her, so—”

“Canada? Why was she in Canada?”

“I didn’t ask.”

Honestly, Estelle was always in his business when he didn’t want her there. Her sudden lack of curiosity pissed him off no end. “Did you at least ask why she chose to not call me instead? Why did she call you?”

“According to her, she wasn’t sure you’d want to be bothered while you were out on a shoot, so she called me.”

“Not sure?” The concept that he would ignore any communication from Scout was so completely alien it took him a moment to get the rest of the message. “What did she say?”

“She needs you to call her about Frank Bournival’s files.”

The mere mention of the man’s name turned the colorful world around him flat. “I do not give a shit about that mess anymore. If I never hear Bournival’s name again, it will be too soon.”

“I’m glad to hear that, Ivar. It’s healthier to look forward instead of back.” The relief in Estelle’s tone was clear. “So… does this mean you won’t be calling Scout Upton?”

“Oh, I will most definitely call her,” he promised grimly. “But Bournival is the last thing we are going to talk about.”

As Ivar stalked through the front doors of House Of Payne, Scout could honestly say that for the first time since she’d known him, he looked awful. Or, as awful as a former supermodel could look. Unshaven with dark circles under his bloodshot eyes, he looked like he was one nervous twitch away from going nuclear.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Angel at the reception desk quickly turn and get busy with a sketchpad she had with her, her head dropping in an attempt to appear invisible. There was no need for Angel to worry about being seen. The way Ivar’s attention was locked on her, Scout doubted he saw anyone else.

Was that a good thing, or a bad thing?

To cover her flurry of anxiety, she looked at her watch before plucking up some files from the reception area’s counter. “Good morning, Ivar. Thank you for being on time for—”

He didn’t speak, didn’t pause, didn’t slow his roll in the least. He plowed right into her and kept on going, his arms lifting her cleanly off her feet as he walked until her back was up against the reception counter and his mouth was on hers.

Like magic, the nerves twisting her into knots stilled. So much was communicated in that one kiss—desperation, loneliness, lust, remorse, anger. Everything but indifference, which was what she’d half-feared he would hit her with. She still couldn’t be sure what was really going on in his head, and she wouldn’t be surprised if he was still pissed at her for using what he’d shared about his life against him. Tonya was right to say she should be angry with Ivar about being lied to. And she was. But to use what he’d confided in her against him was beneath her.

If Ivar was still pissed, the hungry fusing of his mouth certainly had an odd way of communicating it. Her lips softened despite her determination to keep things on an emotionally detached keel, and she couldn’t help but shiver when he growled his approval at her response.

“Seven days.” At last he allowed her to come up for air, only to nuzzle his face against hers as if he couldn’t get close enough. “Seven fucking days.”

She blinked, her brain still back at the kiss. “Seven days?”

“That is how long I have been without you. Seven days of thinking I would never touch you again, kiss you again. Seven days of not being able to breathe.”

“Oh.” All the broken pieces inside her came back together to fracture in a new and completely different way, and she caught her breath at its painful sweetness. “That must be some kind of record.”

“I do not give a shit what it is, as long as I never go through it again. Have you been safe?”

She backed away, surprised. “Safe?”

“I did not like leaving Chicago when you had made an enemy. I need to know you were properly looked after here at work while I was away.”

“Oh. That.” She felt her face grow hot and she heard a muffled giggle come from Angel, but she ignored both. What she couldn’t ignore was how Ivar’s determination to keep her protected filled her with a strange mixture of exasperation and happiness that she couldn’t begin to cope with. “I still can’t believe you hired a bodyguard for me.”

“I wanted to hire more, but one was all Payne would allow on the premises.”

“Yeah. He told me.” While laughing his ass off. Then she reminded him that he’d bought an outrageously expensive security system for an entire apartment building that wasn’t even his, just so he knew that his then-girlfriend, Becks, was safe. That was when Payne had decided maybe Ivar wasn’t such a bad egg, after all. “You should know something about the guy I said I’d made into an enemy.”

“You said he was a dangerous man.”

“At the time I meant it. But apparently I did a great job of convincing him that I was both violent and insane. Whenever he sees me now, he pretty much turns and walks the other way, so I think I’m good.”

“Nevertheless, the bodyguard stays until I feel that you are safe here.” He ignored the distance she’d put between them and hugged her so fiercely her bones groaned in protest. “If anything happened to you, I would fucking lose it.”

There it was again, that strange happiness drowning out all the darkness that had gathered inside. “That… seriously sounds like you care.”

“I tell you that I have not been able to breathe without you, yet you still doubt me? Tell me you are going to allow me to breathe again. No, wait,” he said, before she could make a sound. “It does not matter what you say. I refuse to go through this any longer, do you hear me? Be angry with me. Hate me. Hit me. Swear you will never speak to me again. Just do it while I am holding you, because letting you go is not going to happen.”