by Stacy Gail
Her eyes lifted up to the second floor balcony and saw that it was empty, then nearly jumped a foot when she heard movement behind her. Olivier was strolling through the door with Dizzy Izz trailing after him like a black cloud. But still…no Steele.
Was this a good thing, or a bad thing?
Good, she decided, turning her attention to Payne as he called them over. It had to be a good thing. Steele had obviously gotten the hint that they were done and was doing the right thing by removing himself from her world. It was the courteous thing to do. Even thoughtful.
She’d be damned if she’d admit it hurt all the way to the center of her cracked heart that he hadn’t even put up a token fight for her. Not that it would have done any good, but still… it hurt, how easily he gave up on her.
Then again, he hadn’t loved her.
Easy to walk away when there was no love.
“Okay, here’s the plan,” Payne said once they were all gathered, so into what he was doing that he skipped right over any formal greeting. “We’re going in alphabetical order as to which designer is seen first. Dizzy, that means you’re up first, and I want men’s and women’s daily wear to come out—”
“At the same time?” Dizzy Izz made a scandalized noise that would have irritated Essie on a normal day. The mood she was in now made it nearly impossible to keep herself from knocking the other woman’s head from her shoulders. “This is not how a true fashion show is done.”
“It’s how my fashion show is done. Now—”
“Dizzy Izz understands that this is Payne’s show, of course. But surely the great Payne would want his show to look just like what one would see in Paris or—”
“Will you shut the fuck up?” Essie heard the words come out of her mouth as if she was having an out-of-body experience. But when silence rang around the room, she couldn’t say she had any regrets. “Don’t you see that the man doesn’t want his show to be like everyone else’s? If the House was all about producing cookie-cutter shit, then we wouldn’t even be going through this contest in the first place. So please just your yap and let the man finish a fucking sentence. I’ve got a lot to do today, and standing around listening to you tell someone how they should run their own damn business isn’t one of them.”
Olivier did the impossible and laughed. It was rusty and lasted less than a second, but it was definitely a laugh. “Forget what I said the other day,” he drawled, half-bowing to Essie. “I don’t prefer you mute, after all.”
“So, alphabetical order,” Scout resumed while Payne looked like he wanted to just walk the hell out and never return to the headache of dealing with designers. “Dizzy Izz, Olivier and Essie Santiago, in that order. You’ll showcase your lines from daily wear, which you’ve all decided to do, to activewear, to children’s wear, which two of you have chosen to do, to outerwear, to accessories, which will be Olivier’s gig. Now, about how much time we’d like for you to spend on each outfit reveal…”
Essie tried to focus on the information, but it was hard. The urgency to get out of there, to get away from the place where she’d first met the man who’d changed the course of her life—who had shown her how to freaking live—was eating her alive. When Scout handed out the schedule of events for the next two days before bringing the meeting to an end, Essie was the first to head for the exit. It wasn’t cool to break into a run, so she kept that need under wraps. She did, however, power-walk like a champ toward the door and breathed a sigh of relief when she made it out into the blistering morning sun.
Score. She’d made her escape without a single hassle. Now she could breathe again.
“Excuse me. Essie?”
Shit.
“I’m parked right over there.” She glanced back over her shoulder while continuing to walk, gesturing to the car she’d made sure was within the line of sight of the House’s security. “No need to walk me to my car. I’m fine.”
“It’s standard procedure.” The man she hadn’t recognized emerged from the shadow of the doorway and gave a nod to Echo as he passed, receiving a silent nod in response. Essie kept the man in sight as she continued toward her car, her inner defenses locked in place as she took him in.
Like everyone on PSI’s security team, the dude was built like he’d been chiseled out of the basic Captain America mold. He was a handful of inches over six feet but with a rangier, long-legged look to him that put her in mind of a middle-distance runner. His thick hair was a bronzed shade of mahogany, neither brown nor red but a unique blending of both. It was kept military-short on the sides and back, and just long enough on top to show a natural wave. Even with the distance separating them, she couldn’t help but give an inward jump when his gaze touched her. His eyes were amazing, a pure electric blue that seemed to see everything, and they shone with an intelligence that she instinctively knew could be as lethal as any weapon a PSI man carried.
More than a little unnerved by those all-seeing eyes, she turned away from him on the excuse of digging out her car keys. “See? I’m at my car. Everything’s fine.”
“Actually, everything’s not fine, and that’s why I was hoping I’d get a chance to talk with you today. It won’t take long,” he added quickly when she unlocked the car with a beep and swung the door open. “I need your help with Steele.”
About to slide in behind the wheel and slam the door in his face, she jerked to a standing position, her hands gripping the door’s frame like her life depended on it. “My help? Wait, you said everything’s not fine. Is something wrong with Steele?”
The man came to a halt about a foot or so away on the other side of the open door, his hands sliding into his pockets. “Physically he’s fine, but that’s about it. He told me he texted you that he was going back to Louisiana this week, but when you walked into the House, I had the impression you were expecting to see him. Am I wrong?”
“My phone is… not on me.” She didn’t worry that he might think she was ridiculous for physically ditching her phone to avoid Steele. She was too busy drowning in the knowledge that he’d gone back home. “He’s gone home? Why would he…?” She stopped abruptly, because she knew why. The perfect Apolline was in Louisiana. Of course. Now that her ghost had been brought back so vividly to life in his mind, he’d not been able to stop himself from going back to her.
Of course.
“The man needed to straighten a few things out in his head,” he said, looking both sympathetic and earnest. “Steele mentioned he shared the details of his past with you, yes? Including how his ex-wife abandoned him when he, like you, had the identity-shaking event of having his face all but obliterated?”
Identity-shaking event. That was a bull’s eye if she’d ever heard one. She couldn’t help but be impressed that this man seemed to understand the crippling psychological pain of that highly personal trauma.
Then her eyes sharpened on him. “Wait. How do you know that about me? Who are you?”
“My name is Lucien Keyes, but my friends call me Luke.”
“Ah. Steele’s best friend and keeper of the spare key to his place,” she muttered as the picture cleared for her. “I guess that explains why you know so much about him. Not particularly thrilled you know all about me, though. Too bad I’m never going to speak to him again, or I’d blast him out of his leather Brogue boots for gossiping like a little old lady about me.”
“You should be glad he’s done nothing but talk about you for months on end. I’ve known Steele for years, and you’re the first woman he’s shown any interest in for longer than a night, if you get my meaning.”
She did, and suddenly the last thing she wanted was to be involved in this conversation.
“So,” he went on, clearly not picking up on her uncommunicative vibe, “since you two have such an unusual traumatic event in common, I’m sure you can understand why it was necessary for him to go back.”
“Not really.” Unless it was to show perfect, not-scarred-up Apolline how well he’d healed. One look at him and she’d no d
oubt bat her perfect lashes at him, flip her perfect blonde hair and wrap him around her perfect little finger.
The thought made her want to heave.
“Steele needed to see that throughout the years, his mind has idealized everything that he’d had before he got injured. Whether he knows it or not, he’s made that life and everything in it perfect, in part because he was made to feel so horribly imperfect. That was why that life rejected him, or so he came to believe.”
“That’s ridiculous. There’s nothing wrong with him. That shallow, weak idiot he was married to was the one who was imperfect, not Steele. The truth is, he was rejected because she was the one who was so unforgivably weak and flawed, not him.”
“You and I both know that, but it’s his perspective that’s steering the boat. I’ve been trying to get him to make this trip for years, so he could get that proper perspective. But he’d never had the motivation to get his shit together until now.”
Despite her determination to not listen to whatever this dude had to say, her brows drew together. “Until now? What motivation does he have?”
“You,” came the blunt reply. “When you broke up with him, I think it finally sank in that he can’t get away with coasting through life by being what my old psych professor called ‘emotionally unavailable.’ Anyone who thinks they can get away with that shit runs the risk of missing their chance at real happiness.”
Okay, she thought grudgingly. That sounded legit.
“I think Steele’s also discovering an absolute truth, not about himself, but about life in general—if a man doesn’t give as much as he receives, that man is going to get left behind, and some other, smarter man is going to take his place in his woman’s life.”
That also sounded legit. But she was still foggy on why this was any of his damn business. “Look, uh…”
“Luke.”
“I appreciate your concern for your friend, Luke. You totally get the Gold Star for going that extra, completely awkward mile for your buddy by trying to help me understand where Steele’s coming from so we can get back together—”
“No, you misunderstand. For the time being, I think it’s best for you to stay apart.”
The bottom of her stomach dropped to her ankles.
Great. Another hot guy who didn’t think she was worthy. She probably shouldn’t be surprised anymore.
She managed to make her mouth work. “You don’t say.”
“For four years Steele’s put an epidural on his emotions. He could function if he didn’t feel anything. I suspect he even needed that numbness while he struggled to regain his physical health, but he doesn’t need it anymore. And since you’ve been on the scene, I’ve watched how that emotional block has been slowly dissolving, and it’s been a good thing to see. Great, even. But all that numbness isn’t going to go away overnight.”
“So… what are you saying? I’ve achieved the height of my usefulness by breaking through to Steele, but now I need to be on my merry way?”
His russet brows quirked. “From what Steele told me, I thought you were already on your merry way.”
Fuck this, I’m done. “I am. Thanks for the reminder.”
“Wait.” He stepped forward as she slid into the driver’s seat, and he held the door open with a shocking display of strength when she would have slammed it shut. “What I’m saying is that you have broken through to him, Essie. He just hasn’t fully woken up to that fact yet. That’s why I’m asking you now to be patient while he’s down in Louisiana getting his head together. This process is going to take more than a day or two to right itself.”
“I’ve broken through to him.” She almost laughed, but since she feared it would come out a sob, she stifled it and angrily shook her head. “No offense, but you don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I know that he sent me here specifically to look after you in his stead.”
“Why? It’s not like I’m in any danger.”
“In his mind, you’re now in terrible danger…of being taken away from him while he’s away.”
Her stupid, stupid heart executed a little twirl. “Taken away?”
Luke nodded. “I have orders to keep all men away from you, especially the tattooist Max Kulagin, Olivier and Trace Van Zandt. Oh, and I’m not supposed to get too close to you either. Three guesses as to why.”
For a brief second she thought Steele might be jealous, but she’d thought that before. A man had to feel some depth of emotion in order to be jealous. He didn’t, so he wasn’t. “I’m not into guessing games. Not when it comes to Steele.”
“You’re a tough one, aren’t you? No one understands Steele better than you,” he went on before she could answer. “Just as no one will ever understand you better than Steele. Once he finally gets used to that idea, no one on this earth will be able to tear him from your side.”
“I don’t want him to get used to the idea of being a part of my life. If I’m not his choice, or if he has to somehow talk himself into being with me, then I want nothing to do with that. He deserves better than that, and frankly so do I. I’d rather be alone forever than live with something like that.”
“That’s not something you’ll ever have to worry about, Essie. Just give it time.”
“He can have all the time he needs,” she muttered, and when he let the door go, she slammed it with finality.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“Sorry about all the cloak and dagger stuff.” Essie huffed as she hauled the last garment bag inside House Of Payne through the back door held open by Carla. “Payne didn’t want the world to know anything about the fashion show until he’s ready to take the lid off of it, so we were all sworn to secrecy about the dress rehearsal.”
“It’s cool with me and the kids. Patrick’s going to shit a brick when he finds out I got to be down here behind the scenes with the kids while he’s busy being a wage slave, but that’s life.” After Essie passed her, Carla turned to the two-seater stroller while a member of Steele’s security team closed and locked the door behind them. Glancing over her shoulder when the lock clicked, Carla eyed the massive mountain of a man Essie vaguely remembered as Rudy. “Damn, do you have to be a panty-melting hottie to work security around here?”
“As far as I can tell, that seems to be a prerequisite if you want to be a PSI employee. That dude back there and one of the blonde guys, Havlik, are both in committed relationships, but feel free to drool over all the others.”
“Girlie, I’m in a committed relationship too, but that doesn’t stop me from drooling over anyone.”
“I don’t blame you.” And now that she thought about it, she supposed she could have put Steele in the category of being in a committed relationship as well. Not with her, of course. With Apolline.
Just her luck.
Carla gave Rudy one last look before pushing the stroller ahead of her. “I bet that’s part of PSI’s overall security strategy—stun would-be opponents with their weapons-grade hotness to gain the upper hand.”
“Mm-hm.”
Her friend made a small sound of regret and moved to Essie’s side to give her a quick, one-armed hug. “Sorry, honey. They’re all dogs and I can’t stand the sight of them. There. Does that make up for my big mouth?”
“It’s fine, Carla. I wasn’t even thinking about Steele or how easy on the eyes all the PSI dudes are.” The moment she said it, she wanted to bite her tongue. Talk about a freaking stupid lie. Any woman with a pulse would conjure up wild fantasies about that dangerously delicious collection of over-the-top supermen. But talking about Steele—and how he was the most heart-stopping of them all, at least in her eyes—would bring the tears she’d sworn she was done with right to the surface. After nearly a week of that weepy, woebegone crap she was so totally done with it.
If only her stupid heart could be done as well.
Carla’s dubious brow lift told her she wasn’t fooling anyone. “What were you thinking about?”
“I’m so glad this ci
rcus is finally going to be over by tomorrow night. No matter how things wind up, I can get on with the life I’ve put on hold in order to get through this contest.”
Carla made a sympathetic sound. “It has been a pretty long slog, hasn’t it? I’ve got to say, I’ve never seen anyone work so freaking hard just to land a job.”
“Exactly. Basically this has been a marathon job interview, and I’m so sick of it I could scream.” Essie kept her voice pitched low so only Carla could hear her as she led the way toward the curtained-off area at the end of the catwalk. “If I had known what I was letting myself in for when my brother first called me about designing for House Of Payne, I never would have left Texas.”
“Really? You don’t think it’s been worth it?”
“How could I think that? I’m almost broke, I still have no guarantee of a job, I left behind a job I loved, I can’t stand that closet-sized studio apartment where I can’t even move around without bashing into something, I haven’t slept in an actual bed for more than a handful of nights for months on end, and Steele—” She broke off, sucked in both her lips and bit down hard. Saying out loud that Steele had set her up to love him, only to shatter her heart, wouldn’t help. It would only bring out that irritating need to cry. “No. With the exception of reuniting with you and getting to know your wonderful little family, none of this shit has been worth it. None. I can’t wait for it to be over.”
“Honey.” With a sad sigh, Carla watched Essie hang up the garment bag in her allotted cubicle. “It almost sounds like you want to leave Chicago no matter what happens tomorrow night.”
