House of Payne: Steele (28 page)

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 doubt 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 circus 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.”

“If I don’t win, there’s no reason for me to stay. Even if I can’t get my old job back in Austin, at least I’ve got a sterling reputation down in Texas. I would have a much better chance of finding work quickly there than I would in this city. Here in Chicago, I would only be known as that pathetic House Of Payne loser.”

“So you’d just leave?”

“Yeah.” Then she blinked. “Wow. I didn’t know that was my game plan until I said it out loud, but…yeah, Carla. If I don’t win this contest, I’m out of here. I even
want
to leave, so much so that it would kind of be a relief to
not
win. I could just get the hell out of town and not look back.”

Carla’s mouth drooped. “But what about your family? What about me? You have people here who love you.”

People, yes. But not Steele. He’d made that abundantly clear. “I love you, too. But as much as I love you and my family, this city also holds a hell of a lot of painful memories. Leaving it behind wouldn’t erase that pain, and I get that. But it would help in wiping the mental slate clean. After all the crap that’s been poisoning my head lately, a clean slate sounds like a slice of heaven.”

Her friend made a sound of distress. “Now I’m really hoping you win. I just got you back, Es. I don’t want to lose you again.”

“You’re guaranteed to have me for the next forty-eight hours.” Impulsively Essie hugged her before grabbing up the garment bag that held all the children’s apparel. “Let’s make this time as memorable as possible by showing off how adorable your kids are in my amazing outfits.”

Angel and a sleepy-grouchy Twist showed up a few minutes later, just as Essie finished laying out the items she wanted them to wear. The murmur of the other designers and their models within the curtained chaos of the backstage area floated to her ears, and she was relieved she couldn’t see any of them. Despite what she’d told Carla, she still wanted to win.
Burned
to win. She’d come too far to leave with nothing, and that was what defeat meant. She’d lost months of her life, most of her savings, and her heart to Steele in this endeavor.

That meant she had to win now.

Not that getting a contract with House Of Payne and potential worldwide fame in the fashion industry would get her heart back; that was a crippling blow that nothing could compensate for. But the thought of coming away from this ordeal empty-handed after all the sacrifices she’d made filled her with dizzying dread.

She had to win.

She
had
to.

“If I could have the designers’ attention, please.” Scout’s no-nonsense voice sounded beyond her curtained-off cubicle, dragging Essie’s attention away from her two models, her brother Twist and Angel. Fussing quickly with Twist’s long-sleeved graphic shirt that displayed his tattoo design of a dragon—its tail curled around one sleeve, its talons “gripping” the ruched fabric on the back panel, the neck over the shoulder, and the chest panel nothing but vicious teeth and burning eyes—she ducked out into the miniscule common area by the center curtain. To her left, Olivier had also appeared, while further down Dizzy Izz stuck only her head out of her cubicle.

“So, here we are at last—the dress rehearsal. Congratulations to you all for making it through this marathon of fashion creativity. No matter how things wind up tomorrow, you should know that your efforts through this time are deeply appreciated.” Scout stood in front of the center curtain’s gap, running a manicured finger down the tablet she held. “First up is Dizzy Izz, so here’s how it’s going to go. You’ll set up your models right where I’m standing one minute prior to your cue, which will be given to you by me. No model will enter the runway without my say-so. I have to eyeball each model before they go out to make sure there’s nothing wrong, like inappropriate graphics or wardrobe malfunctions. I don’t want anything shown out there that would embarrass the House, so if I see something like that, it’s out. This is not negotiable,” she added before anyone could utter a word. “What’s more, if I eliminate something from your collection and this knocks you out of the minimum requirements that were set at the beginning of this contest, you’ll be disqualified from the competition. Does anyone have any questions so far?”

Feverishly Essie went over her inventory while Olivier and Dizzy went on verbal warpaths. To be on the safe side, she’d created more than what the rules had called for—three items for both men and women in the three categories of daily wear, outerwear and activewear, plus three outfits for both baby Dillon and toddler Charlotte, completing a children’s line as well. As far as she could tell, there wasn’t going to be a problem.

Hopefully those weren’t famous last words.

“If there’s a massive issue that has to be addressed, you can take it up with Payne, who would have the final say in the matter, but that’s as far as I’m willing to go.” Scout held up a hand, and that was enough to silence the designers’ objections. “Personally I don’t foresee a problem like that, but this had to be stated before we got things going. Now, about how we want the show itself to go… to give our models enough time to change into their next outfits, we need all the models to walk slowly down the runway side by side, stop halfway down, look out to the crowd and pose for photos.”

“Fuck me,” came Twist’s pained protest from the curtained-off cubicle behind her.

Essie just stopped herself from facepalming. She’d kill him. When all this was over and she had time to breathe, she’d absolutely kill him.

Thankfully Scout’s eyes barely flicked in their direction. “The models will switch places, pose for pictures again, then proceed to the end of the catwalk where Payne and the other judges will be seated. Once your models have come to a stop, this is where you’ll begin your narration of the items you’ve created from the podium just on the other side of this curtain. You may describe your creations however you wish, but if you’ve used a tattoo design in your clothing that came from the House, it’s mandatory that you name the tattoo artist, as well as the fact that this tattoo can be found exclusively at House Of Payne. Each turn on the catwalk should last approximately one to two minutes, and models must exit the catwalk completely before the next set of models is allowed to enter. If you have questions about how to proceed, now is the time to ask.”

Essie’s mind whirled as she tried to weave this new content into what had to be done, then relaxed when she realized her narration script that described each article of clothing already had all the information that Scout wanted.

Amazingly enough, she was ready to go.

As if sensing this, Scout nodded once and turned to Dizzy Izz. “All right, Dizzy, you’re up. The rest of you, get ready.”

With her heart suddenly pounding so hard in her chest she thought she might faint, Essie ducked back into her cubicle. “Okay, it’s time to kick some ass. Twist, feel free to glower and stalk as much as you want—that’s actually cool for guys on the runway. Just don’t slouch or cross your arms, because you’ll make my clothes look bad and if you do that, I’ll tell Mom.”

“Fuck me,” he groaned again, looking heavenward for deliverance.

Essie ignored him. “Angel, you look fabulous. Thank you so much for putting your hair up so that everyone can see those lovely snowflake designs of yours on your top. The skirt goes really well with it, too.”

“I’m stealing this outfit, Es,” Angel announced, grinning. “As soon as this is all over, I’m stealing it and you totally cannot stop me.”

“I don’t have a problem with that, especially since those snowflakes were inspired by your tattoo designs. Your artistic genius is the reason that outfit exists.”

Angel squealed and hugged her tight. “Oh my God, I love you so much right now.”

“Fuck me,” Twist muttered behind them, but this time Essie heard the laughter in his voice, so she decided to let him live.

Techno music suddenly hit the air, way too loud, and somewhere beyond their cubicle Scout screamed out the threat of skinning someone alive if they didn’t turn it down in the next three seconds. Wide-eyed and more than a little impressed with Scout’s badass attitude, Essie popped out of their cubicle in time to see Scout push Dizzy Izz through the center curtain. Absently noting that Olivier was ushering his models toward the center curtain, Essie cast about to see where Carla and the kids had run off to.

Instead, her preoccupied gaze ran smack into Steele.

Holy…

Shit
.

In a blink, every trace of oxygen evaporated from the building. Her lungs froze, becoming useless blocks of ice, but that hardly mattered since there was no oxygen left for them to process. Her head began to swim while a war between mindless joy at seeing him again and the sick, stabbing cold of hopelessness exploded inside her, with no winner in sight. Her throat tightened and tightened, as if an invisible hand had clamped around it to squeeze it so hard it was almost as though she was once again having the life choked out of her. She retreated a few steps even as she put a hand to the source of distress, and felt the scars beneath her fingers.