by Stacy Gail
“Depends on what you had in mind.”
“Get dressed. We’re going on a field trip.”
Chapter Four
Queen’s Under Pressure pulsed overhead as Tag walked Ivy through the front doors of House Of Payne. Her tension didn’t escape his notice, and neither did the security guard who fell in behind them as they made their way through the lobby. No surprise there, since Ivy had been thrown out of the place less than a week ago. But with a surreptitious glare that promised murder thrown the guard’s way, he hoped he made it crystal fucking clear that this woman wasn’t to be messed with.
No one was going to mess with her but him.
“Why did you bring me back to this place?” She was getting that dangerous look in her whiskey-pale eyes—a mixture of stubbornness and kamikaze-like fatalism, like she was resigning herself to doing something spectacularly insane and refusing to see any other path that might be available. “If you’ve brought me here to apologize to that suspender-wearing carny barker, that’s not a problem. I’ve got exactly what I want to say to that guy already worked out in my head.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet you do.” Expecting a gentle apology from someone as volatile as Ivy Gemelli was like thinking flowers would erupt from a volcano, so he merely steered her around the reception desk. The House’s manager and business genius behind the scenes, Scout Fournier, gave them a sharp-eyed once-over, but she called off their trailing guard with a wave of a manicured hand. Then she picked up the desk phone, no doubt to call the head man himself, but he wasn’t going to worry about that now. “We’re here because I’ve decided you might be worth the effort of educating. You’re going to put up with it because you owe me.”
Those exotic eyes of hers narrowed dangerously. “Worth educating?”
“That’s what I said.”
She chewed that over for a while. “Can’t I just apologize now, get this whole stupid thing over with and never see you again?”
“You’re the one who ripped off her damn shirt in front of everyone and accused me and the House of stealing from you, when you could’ve talked it out with us like a goddamn civilized human being. Because of that, you don’t get to decide how this train rolls. You just get on board, sit your ass down, and suck it the hell up.”
An angry hiss escaped her. “Do I get to ask about the destination? Like where you’re going with this whole educating bullshit line you’re trying to feed me?”
“You’re a product of Back of the Yards—”
“And proud of it.”
“So am I, because I survived it, and you can bet your ass I got out of there as fast as I could. When I did, I wised the hell up.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I realized I had a massive chip on my shoulder that kept me from seeing the world as anything other than something I needed to go to war with. In other words, I was just like you.”
She blinked. “Like me?”
“Not too long ago I was exactly like you—so fucked up I tried going to war with every damn thing I could. You’re trying to go to war the House Of Payne, so I brought you here to make you see you’re waging war on a place that reveres art just as much as you do.”
She stared at him like he was speaking ancient Aramaic. “What the hell, dude. I do not go to war. I just protect my own, that’s all. I’m actually the most peaceful person I know.”
“Peaceful?” He didn’t bother holding back a laugh. “Holy fuck, you said that with a straight face. Amazing.”
“Hey—”
“Ivy Gemelli, you don’t even know the meaning of the word peaceful, but that’s not your fault. You grew up in a neighborhood where more people die violently per year than most war zones. We’ve both lost people we loved, whether to a bullet or a fire or a fucking dirty OD. But you and I survived that shit because that’s who we are. And we survived because we’ve had to fight for every shitty little thing we have. We know it’s smarter to attack before we get attacked, and we go for the jugular every damn time instead of calmly talking shit out like normal people. We expect battle from the world, so that’s exactly what we give to the world. I woke up to that fact a long time ago, but you haven’t. You don’t have a fucking clue that outside of our neighborhood, there. Is. No. War. You keep fighting like you do, punching out at everything that moves, you’ll just wind up hurting yourself the way you did a few days ago.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he watched her hands ball into fists. “Stop talking like you know me.”
“I do know you. I know you as well as I know myself.” Because he’d been her, once. Stupid and so full of gut-deep fury he hadn’t even recognized how stupid he was. Now that he’d gained proper perspective—and control of himself—he could see things more clearly.
But she wasn’t there yet. No, not Ivy Gemelli.
She wasn’t even in the zip code of control.
That wasn’t a problem, though.
If anything, it was a bonus.
Her kiss-me-now lips pulled back in a sneer that should have made her ugly, but all it did was make him want to paddle her ass. “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to tell anyone to fuck off more than I do right now. I repeat, you don’t know me, so stop acting like you do.”
“I know you survived the deaths of your entire family, one by one, until you were the last one left behind,” he said bluntly, and when her eyes flinched he hooked a hand around her nape. The move shocked her into stillness, and he took advantage by stepping right into her space while his gaze dared her to do something about it. “Hell, that’d reset anyone’s system into fight-or-flight, except there’s no flight in you. You fight every single thing you come across, don’t you?”
“No.”
He smiled. Even a single-word response from her was a hostile throat-punch. “That’s a serious problem you’ve got there, Ivy.”
“Fuck off. Also, how do you figure?”
“Considering the world you live in, that trait’s only going to get you dead. Lucky for you, I’m not about to stand around and watch a talent like yours flame out because your instinct to fight lands your ass in a place it can’t get out of.”
“What are you doing to do, Tag? Are you going to fix me?” she scoffed, but there was no hiding her alarm when he was looking right into her eyes. “Are you going to save me from myself?”
“I don’t see anyone else stepping up to do it, so I’ll just go ahead and say it in advance—you’re welcome. I’m glad you’re here,” he said, lifting his head to address Payne, who was approaching them at top speed. “We need to talk.”
“A press conference?” Ivy heard the words come out of her mouth without being conscious of forming them. It was almost like she was having an out-of-body experience, which wasn’t surprising. The man known to her only as Tag had knocked her senseless, first with his words, and then with his unexpected touch. She could still feel his hand at her nape, with each individual finger burning into her nerves, and it was driving her insane. “You want me to stand in front of a bunch of cameras and lie through my teeth about what I said a few days ago? Because that’s what it would be—a lie. I suck at lying.”
Tag shrugged the shoulder that wasn’t leaning against the wall of Sebastian Payne’s office, his body turned to face where she sat on a low-slung black leather couch. “It’s not a lie, because you’re going to explain how you got things wrong about me, and that you’re fine with House of Payne using any of your designs.”
Ivy tried her best not to growl. “Except that I’m not. Hence the freaking lie, get it?”
“Not to mention I actually might have something to say about that.” From his place of power behind a cool-looking glass and chrome desk, Sebastian Payne regarded her as if she’d kicked a puppy. “You fucked things up good and proper for me and mine, lady. All it takes is one black eye, like a rumor that House Of Payne’s art is stolen, and this place could implode. Ever since your little stunt in front of all of Chicago, I’ve now got a dozen—”
“Two dozen.” The rockabilly woman, who seemed to be the keeper of facts, gave Ivy a first-class stink-eye from her perch against the glass desk. “Two dozen, and counting.”
Payne’s mouth tightened. “Two dozen crazy assholes climbing out of the woodwork claiming their art’s also been stolen by the House, and they’re looking for monetary compensation. In the end, all I’ve got is my rep and good name. You took a shit on both.”
“So put it all to rest by publicly getting Ivy’s story out there,” Tag said, shrugging again. “Once this mess is explained about her kid brother boosting her tag, you can spin it into a human interest story.”
“That might work,” the rockabilly woman said, nodding slowly. “Putting the focus on her brother and what life is like on the South Side could potentially take the focus off us. The madness dies down, and we just quietly move on from there.”
“No one’s parading my dead little brother around for fucking publicity.” The thought was so appalling Ivy surged to her feet. “That might be how you roll here at House Of Three-Ring Circus or whatever the hell you call it, but I’ve got more decency than that.”
Tag pushed away from the wall. He didn’t advance any farther than that, but that was all it took for her heart to leap into her throat. “What you’ve got is a massive debt to repay, so sit your ass back down and don’t you move until I say you can move.”
Ivy’s butt hit the seat before she was consciously aware of following his command. When her brain finally caught up with the rest of her, she very nearly hopped to her feet again in outrage. “Use that tone of voice with me again. Go on. I fucking dare you.”
“It wouldn’t work on you again. At least not for the rest of the day.” Then he had the audacity to give her a slow, sexy smile and a wink that made her want to kick him. “But don’t worry. I’ve got plenty of other tricks that’ll work on you just fine.”
“Tricks?” A flash of fury whipped through her, almost blotting out a shocking, inexplicable rush of excitement. “What, you think you can train me like I’m some dog on a leash?’
“If your hard line is leashes, I don’t have a problem with that,” came the stunning reply, and she honestly considered murder when Payne offered a cough that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. “And let’s face it, I don’t need a leash to remind you who’s in control here, now do I? You’re like a tiger in a cage, and that cage is of your own making.”
That got her to her feet again, and she’d be damned if she’d allow him to command her to sit. “If I’m in such a cage, then I’m sure you’ll be happy to explain how the hell I’m walking out that door. Which I am, right the fuck now.”
“You damaged my rep by going to war with me, and you hurt Payne’s. You clearly don’t have any respect for the House, but I know you hold great respect for your fellow artists. Added to that, you know your stupid-ass attack on us was one-hundred percent your fault. That’s the cage you’re in, tiger. I had nothing to do with it.”
Oh God, she hated this man. “Bullshit. You had everything to do with it. You were using my tag, a tag you knew spelled out the name Ivy, yet you kept on using it.”
“But now you know the truth. I didn’t steal that fucking tag from you. I used it to honor your little brother, who was the actual plagiarist. That’s something you could have found out for your own damn self in a private conversation that would’ve taken ten minutes. Instead you calculated how best to do the worst possible damage to us, and tried to drop a bomb on our heads.”
“Tried? She succeeded.” Payne’s face was like ice, yet his eyes burned her with pure condemnation. “The press we’re getting now is the worst we’ve ever gotten, because gleefully tearing us down after helping build us up is their favorite thing to do. We’ve had more cancellations and no-shows than we’ve ever had since we opened our doors, and online sales of our brand name products have fallen by almost thirty percent. We might not survive this downward spiral, lady, and it’s all because you wanted to kick us in the fucking teeth.”
“I just want to know what we ever did to you to make you want to destroy us,” the woman said while Ivy’s heart sank into her stomach. “Payne and I are both from the South Side. We had to fight for every damn thing we have. If anything, we should all be on the same side, because you know how hard it is to climb up from nothing. But instead of being on our side and cheering on the home team, you’ve got us hemorrhaging so bad we actually had a meeting this morning to determine whether or not we needed to start laying people off—tattooists and artists, just like you.”
“Oh no.” Horrified, Ivy’s righteous inner fire vanished as the implications of her actions hit her full force. “It’s only been a few days. You can’t expect me to believe things are already that bad.”
“I don’t give a shit what you believe,” Payne growled, and that was when it hit her—she wasn’t dealing with the smiling game show façade she’d seen in front of all the cameras. The man she was looking at now was the brutal force of nature that had roared out of a South Side neighborhood to make his name known worldwide. The great Sebastian Payne was furious, and he wasn’t going to stop being furious until he had his pound of flesh. “Here are the facts. Life was going great here at the House until you put a bullet in the one thing any artist’s got going for them—their reputation. Before you came along, no one thought to even question the exclusivity of our brand. We’d earned the right to be viewed as the best in the world by being the best in the world. Then in a heartbeat you destroyed all that. Not just for us, but for Tag as well. Especially for Tag.”
“He won’t tell us how hard his sales have been hit,” the woman added, glancing over at Tag while her words added another weight on Ivy’s heart. “He’s the strong, silent type, sucking up that pain South Side-style. But I know that if we’re hurting because of what you did, that’s gotta be nothing compared to what Tag’s going through.”
“None of that shit matters, Scout.” Tag waved that away like it was unimportant. “What matters is getting it fixed. The way to do it is to put Ivy’s ass in front of every camera we can get our hands on so she can undo the damage she’s done.”
“I’ll do it,” Ivy said while trying not to crumble under the weight of guilt crushing down on her. Damn it. As furious as she’d been at the theft of her intellectual property, she’d never actually meant to hurt anyone when she’d fought to defend her creations. All she’d done was try to stand up for herself. “I don’t want anyone losing their jobs over this.”
Tag tilted his head, dark eyes trained on her. “Glad to hear it.”
“I mean, I’m sure whatever I say will be about as believable as a hostage video without you there to explain how my tag fell into your hands in the first place, but there’s nothing to be done about that. I’m willing to jump through whatever hoops you all want me to jump through so I can try to make this right.”
That brought Tag’s brows together. “Why wouldn’t I be there?”
She couldn’t stop the slow-blink to save her life. “Because no one knows who you really are, including me. You’ve never been photographed. You’ve never told the world your name. I don’t know your name. Outside of the people in this room and whoever you have in your life, no one knows what you look like, so I assumed you wouldn’t be willing to ditch that gimmick. I don’t have a gimmick,” she added, turning her attention back to Payne, “so bring on your press conference. I’ll publicly apologize to you and to Tag for accusing you of stealing my design, and I’ll be as clear as I possibly can about how this happened. I won’t, however, drag my brother’s name through the mud to do it,” she added, and if there was a snarl in her voice, so be it. Tag could mock her for being a tiger all he wanted; when it came to protecting those she loved, a tiger was exactly what she would always, always be. “Teo was just a kid when he was murdered. I’m not going to make him a victim all over again when he can’t be here to defend himself about using my tag, so if that’s what you’re selling, I’m not buying.”
&
nbsp; “I don’t give a damn how you explain it,” Payne said coldly, reaching for a wireless keyboard to tap out a few keystrokes. “Just explain it. As soon as we can put together a news conference, you’ll do your charming best to right the ship, and I’ll do my best not to strangle you while no one is looking.”
Chapter Five
“How do I get myself into these situations?” Ivy muttered while the rockabilly woman, Scout, handed her the brush she’d asked to borrow. They were in her quiet, sunlit office done in shades of white and Tiffany blue, and Ivy had to hand it to her—for a woman who grew up on the South Side, she had excellent taste in décor. “Wait, don’t answer that. I’m positive I don’t want to hear it.”
To her surprise, a faint huff of amusement came from the taller woman. “You got yourself in this situation because you’re like every other artist I’ve ever met—hot-headed, passionate about your work, and a few clowns short of a circus.”
Yup, she was right. She hadn’t wanted to hear it. “I guess I would seem that way to you.”
“That’s not how you seem, Ms. Gemelli.” Scout said, leaning back against her desk and crossing her arms. “Objective opinion—that’s genuinely how you are.”
“Make it Ivy.” Her gaze shifted in the wall-mounted mirror to focus on the House’s manager. “I know you’re pissed off at me, but calling me Ms. Gemelli just proves you don’t know who I really am.”
“I know you went nuclear during one of House Of Payne’s press conferences, instead of just talking to us privately about the issue.”
“It wasn’t a House Of Payne press conference, it was a Tag press conference, and the mysterious Tag was impossible to confront one-on-one because I didn’t know who he was,” Ivy muttered, fighting the wave of guilt with the aggravation of knowing she was still, officially, the wronged party in all this. “If I’d waltzed into this swank place on the downlow with the claim that my most important design, my signature, had been jacked by one of your artists, would you have even bothered to listen to me? From the sound of it, claims of this sort happen all the time around here.”
