by Stacy Gail
Including his permanent presence in Chicago.
She should have known better.
“Scout?”
The dropping sensation in her stomach moved to her chest, stealing her breath. It was awful. It was horrible. And it was crushingly familiar.
The bottom was falling out of her world.
Again.
“Scout, say something. For fuck’s sake, say anything.”
“You’re…” She couldn’t breathe. Understandable, since she was in freefall. That was enough to suck the air out of anyone. “What do you want me to say?”
“Everything that you are not saying. Look, I understand I lost your trust,” he went on when she didn’t answer. “And I get that it is this loss, combined with the problem we both have when it comes to sharing, that has you so tied up now. But I know you understand what drove me to act the way I did. I know this, because you made sure I not only got the answers I was looking for, but also the peace that I was unaware I needed. Thanks to your gift of scouting out trouble, you knew what parts of me were missing, and you fixed it. But I do not have that gift. Now that you have shut down so completely, I have no idea how to fix what is missing in you.”
You, she inwardly screamed at him. You are the one and only thing missing from me.
But how could he be missing from her, when she’d never really had him?
“I don’t know that I ever had you.” To her surprise, she heard her own voice, so choked she could barely understand herself, even as the tears fell at last.
There was a moment of silence. “What?”
“I don’t know if any of our time together was real, Ivar, and that’s my biggest problem. You talk about my gift, but I’m the one who wishes I had your ability—the ability to see what’s hidden behind the public mask to what the truth really is. Maybe then I could figure out what the hell is real, and what it is that you want from me now.”
“You really have to ask? I want you.”
“Do you know how hard that is for me to believe? It was hard enough the first time around, did you know that?” A mortifying sob broke on the last word, and she slapped a hand at the nearest light before moving around the entire penthouse to plunge everything into darkness. It was bad enough he could hear her crying like a baby, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to let him see it. “At the time, I kept thinking I had to be dreaming—an inner city orphan getting noticed by a worldly dream of a man. You were like some Prince Charming, and being with you made me feel so incredibly special, like a princess. You had me believing that I, a fucking stray, could actually be worthy of someone like you. But our entire time together was a lie. You didn’t want to be with me. You had to be with me.”
“You are the most worthy person I know, and the most stubborn,” came the rough answer. “In my eyes, you are the one who is a treasure.”
Her laugh hurt her throat. Probably because it wasn’t really a laugh. “I wish I could believe that’s what those eyes of yours see when you look at me.”
“Then believe it. Believe me.”
“What I believe is that you’re going back to Canada. Because of that, I also believe there’s nothing more to say.”
“Merde.” Furious that he could do nothing more than just stand there like an idiot, Ivar barely stopped himself from hurling the phone at the wall when Scout hung up on him.
God, she was hurting so much.
No, his mind corrected with brutal honesty. That wasn’t completely accurate. He had hurt her, and he couldn’t even get his damn foot in the door to try and make it up to her. And he had to make it up to her. He had to, because he couldn’t take this enforced separation much longer. The thought of her suffering crushed the air out of him, and again he was left with the feeling of not being able to breathe.
He couldn’t allow this to go on. He had to fucking fix this.
And he had to fix it fast. Scout, the toughest-minded woman he knew—the woman who had chased away every dark cloud in his world—was crying because he was a first-class bastard. He had to be, if he’d made her believe she wasn’t good enough. She was the gem, not him, but she couldn’t see that. Long ago she’d gotten stuck on the fucked-up belief that she was a stray nobody wanted. Obviously that concept had left a scar that went all the way to her soul, and he’d made it worse by focusing on exorcising his own demons while ignoring hers.
He was such an asshole.
Mouth twisting in bitter self-disgust, he again looked through the telephoto lens to search in vain for her through the darkness. She’d probably be better off without such a self-absorbed dick in her life, but that was just too damn bad. No man on the planet could ever be worthy of a treasure like her, so she’d just have to put up with him. If she ever deigned to give him another chance, he would make sure she never regretted it. And the only way to do that was to prove to her that she wasn’t a stray, but a goddess. Somehow he had to show her that he was the one who was lucky to have been noticed by her. If she could only see herself through his eyes, she’d understand that.
Red brushed against his ankles, announcing her presence. As he bent to pet the small cat, an idea began to form. Scout had her talent for scouting out trouble, and she’d used it to help him see the truth.
He had a talent as well, a talent that could also make her see the truth.
This time, he wouldn’t fuck it up.
Chapter Twenty-Five
When Scout’s cell phone sounded with Payne’s personalized ringtone—“Bad to the Bone”—at first she thought she was dreaming. Then, when it didn’t stop, she rolled to the side of the bed and groped out a hand.
“It’s like you want me to be your enemy,” she mumbled by way of greeting, refusing to open her eyes. If she did, it meant she was awake and not still sleeping until noon on a quiet Sunday. And that was exactly what she planned to do, no matter how many times Payne called her to be a pain in the ass. “Is that what you want? ‘Cause I can make that happen.”
“Bitch at me later, when I don’t have my back up against a wall,” came Payne’s vaguely harassed tone. “In fact, this could be your fault, now that I think about it. I never get double-booked when you’re in the office taking care of my schedule. You take a vacation and look what happens—I’m supposed to be in two places at once. See? This is your fault.”
With a sigh she opened her eyes, mentally waved a fond farewell to the idea of a Sunday sleep-in and glanced at the clock. Hm. Half past ten was close enough to noon, so she supposed she couldn’t be completely mad at him. “What’d you do?”
“Don’t kill me.”
Oh, shit. “What. Did. You. Do?”
“I booked an interview with Ripped’s weekly podcast while also agreeing to host a modern art exhibit tonight.”
“Wait.” Her brain spun its wheels and went nowhere, so she sat up in the hope that it would gain traction if she put it in a new position. “What modern art exhibit? I don’t remember seeing anything like that on the schedule.”
“Which explains why everything is fucked up. I have to be live for the podcast, so that means you’re going to play hostess.”
“But… oh my God, what about the catering? We need a media kit, and we have to deal with parking—”
“Don’t worry, the artist’s people have already taken care of all that shit. They’ve just rented out the lower level of the House for their exhibit, so all you have to do is show up and pretend you care. It’s at seven tonight, but you need to be there about half an hour early. Thanks, and I mean it.”
“Wait, I don’t even know what artist… Payne?” Nothing but silence greeted her, and she looked at the screen before tossing the phone to the other side of the bed. What a coward, hanging up on her before she could tear strips off of him. As soon as she could get her hands on his schedule, she was going to punish him until he begged for mercy. Nothing but financial advisor meetings, tax shelter workshops and anything else that would bore his creative brain into a coma.
Though, if she were
completely honest, she had to admit there was one good thing about going into work on an otherwise-quiet Sunday. If she was busy, she wouldn’t obsess over Ivar as hardcore as she did yesterday, to the point where she couldn’t do anything in front of the windows facing his apartment. She couldn’t keep living like that, so either she got the entire penthouse swaddled in heavy curtains, or she got off the dime and did something about the situation.
His deception had rocked the crap out of her, no two ways about it. But now that she’d had time to recover from the shock, she could admit that being duped once again by someone with ulterior motives had knocked her legs right out from under her. It was infuriating to be so good at spotting trouble when it came to business, but so blind when it came to protecting her heart.
Her horrible judgment had seriously shaken her confidence. When it came to everything else, she was decisive and determined. But she’d miscalculated two times now, and that meant when it came to personal relationships she was a total loser. It wasn’t Ivar she mistrusted at this point. It was herself.
She couldn’t trust her judgment now by putting her heart at risk yet again… could she?
She headed for the bathroom and an eye-opening shower, thoughts in turmoil. The reason she’d gotten the answers Ivar had needed was to see which way he’d jump once he had them and no longer had any use for her. After all, if he’d just been interested in her because of Frank Bournival, he’d do a fast fade and that would have been the end of it.
But he hadn’t faded. He sent her flowers. He made sure she knew he was counting the days that separated them. He watched for her to come home late at night to see that she was safe, and asked how she was. He hadn’t given up on her, even when she was all but sure it was safer for her battered emotions to give up on him.
Ultimately it should be up to him to make it right, and if he tries to do that, be thrilled about it.
Ivar had been trying to make it right. She’d just been too insecure to make yet another leap of faith and believe that his efforts were real.
No matter how insecure she was, she couldn’t give up on him. Literally, couldn’t. She had proof enough of that when she’s almost had a frigging heart attack over his announcement that he was leaving Chicago. Clearly she wasn’t ready to let him go, so perhaps it was time she gave him a reason to believe they had something worth sticking around for. And maybe they did. Maybe it didn’t matter that he’d schemed to come into her life for all the wrong reasons.
Maybe all that mattered was that he’d come into her life.
With that in mind, she texted him around noon to see if he was free to meet for lunch. When he didn’t respond, she called him directly and got switched over to voicemail. About an hour later she sent another text, this time with the hope of meeting for tea and coffee.
She might as well have sent the text off to a black hole for all the response it got.
Had she left it too late?
It was entirely possible he was already winging his way back to Canada and he wasn’t getting any of her messages. Or it could be he just wasn’t in the mood to put up with her shit anymore.
Only one way to find out, she thought grimly, heading to her car in killer black stilettos and a full-skirted fifties-style halter dress in red and black. After she did her time at this art exhibit, she’d swing by Ivar’s place to see if he was still in town. If not, she’d call his assistant, Maceio. And if that failed, she’d park herself on Eliane’s doorstep and play the guilt-trip card. She wasn’t too proud to point out that they owed her big time.
With her stomach in knots and wishing she could be anywhere else but at work on a Sunday night, Scout was halfway out of her car parked in the House’s back parking lot when she realized someone was right outside her door. Alarmed and grabbing for her pepper spray even as she sucked in a breath to scream, she almost choked on it when she saw a familiar face.
“Maceio?” Blinking hard to make sure that thinking about Ivar’s assistant hadn’t somehow summoned a hallucination of him, she climbed out of the car to gape at his smiling face. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“I’m here to escort you inside, of course.” He offered his arm. “One can’t be too careful, now can they?”
“Uh… yeah, I guess.” Flabbergasted, she looked around and saw there were only a couple cars in the otherwise-empty parking lot. It was early, certainly, but they always had more than this before a big event. “That’s not what I meant, though. What are you doing here, at this specific geographic location at this particular time?”
“I like the precision of your brain very much,” he said without answering, his perfect smile glowing in the gloom as night fell. “Being around a purely artistic personality has made my brain soft, I fear. I look forward to spending much time with you to hone my own organizational skills.”
Much time? She’d have to talk Ivar into staying to make anything like that happen. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re not answering me. And you’re leading me around to the front,” she added as they hit the red carpet that was always rolled out for special events. “I work here, Maceio, I almost never enter from the front. I always come in from the back.”
“Tonight, you are the special guest, and the special guest walks in through the front door.”
Her brows shot up as the door opened ahead of them. “Wait, what? What do you mean, I’m the special guest?”
“That is what you are, my Scout.”
Her head whipped around, and it felt like her jaw unhinged all the way to her knees when she saw Ivar standing in the doorway. Dressed in black pants, a double-breasted tailored vest, crisp white shirt and red silk tie, he looked magnificently formal and so devilishly handsome she thought she’d better go ahead and swoon now, just to get it over with.
If she was taking her time drinking him in, he was doing much the same with her. And if his smile was any indication, he liked what he was seeing. As Maceio handed her off, Ivar lifted her fingers to his lips before tucking them into the crook of his elbow, and all the while his gaze never left her.
“Red and black.” His murmur was low, meant for her ears alone, though he needn’t have bothered. As far as she could tell, Maceio was the only other person around as they walked into the House’s silent lobby area. “Somehow it does not surprise me that you and I are on the same wavelength.”
At last she was able to find her voice. “You mean you didn’t watch me get dressed?”
He lifted a shoulder, his whole air unapologetic for his peeping ways. “I was too busy putting the finishing touches on the exhibit. Sad to say, I missed the show.”
“The exhibit.” At last the stunned amazement wore off enough for her brain to kick in. “Holy crap. You and Payne set me up.”
“Do not be angry with Payne.” He stopped them on the threshold of the open spaces of the gallery, where several white modular walls were bathed in bright, pinpointed spotlights and adorned with veiled frames. Then she saw nothing but him as he cupped her chin and tangled her gaze up with his. “I doubted you would accept an invitation from me if I had held this private exhibit anywhere else. But with a little help from Payne, getting you here was a sure thing if it was made out to be a part of your job.”
She shook her head, trying to clear the shock. “Why would Payne help you? I didn’t think you guys were pals.”
“Calling us pals would be too strong a word, but he was willing to help me out since he thinks I am responsible for you being down this past week. When I told him I wanted to do this for you, he only hoped that it would not make you any worse.” Very gently, as if giving her all the time in the world to object, he lowered his mouth to hers for a lingering, almost chaste kiss. “Have you been down without me, ma fleur? As down as I have been without you?”
Now there was an interesting admission. “I don’t know how you’ve felt without me around.”
“Empty.” Again he brushed her mouth with his. “Cold.” His lips lingered longer, the pressur
e addictive. “Alone.” His tongue slid along the line of her lips, and her knees threatened to vanish out from under her. “More lost than I have ever been.”
“Oh. I mean, yes. I’ve been as down as you.” More relieved that he was still in town and not somewhere in Canada trying to forget she existed, her hands landed on his narrow hips. “Please understand that I needed some time away from you to get a few things straight in my head, because… I’m not going to lie, Ivar. You did a first-class mind-fuck on me.”
The sound of pain that escaped his throat matched his expression, and the arms that held her tightened. “The last thing I wanted was to hurt you. I meant it when I told you that I no longer cared about who I was or where I came from. All that matters to me is healing the hurt I caused and finding a way to convince you to trust me again. I know this is going to be difficult,” he added when she opened her mouth to tell him that his refusal to give up on her had done much of the convincing. “But what we have is worth fighting for. You are worth fighting for, and I swear I will do everything in my power to convince you of it.”
The heaviness that had been weighing her heart down began to lighten. “I’m… I’m seriously glad to hear you think so.” Thrilled, even.
Tonya had really hit the nail on the head with that one.
“I hear in your voice that you are still not convinced. I understand,” he added when she tried to shake her head. “And I know I deserve your doubts. Trust is like a mirror. Unbroken, it reflects perfectly. But if it breaks, parts of it still reflect, but never as it did. I know I broke your trust, but I am determined to never give up trying to make it reflect perfectly again. And I am going to start… with this.”
Before she knew what he was going to do, he moved them toward the nearest wall and unveiled the first frame. The instant she saw herself caught in obvious conversation with Zelda, the florist, she remembered the day when her phone had been stolen.
