House Of Payne: Scout by Stacy Gail

any male model currently on the scene, but being put on display had never been his thing. He had a brain and a hunger to use it, and there was no doubt in Ivar’s mind that he would one day start up the greatest modeling agency the world would ever see. But for now, Maceio was content to learn every possible facet of the fashion world while getting paid a tidy sum for both his exclusivity and discretion. “What about messages?”
    “You should know that there was one for me and several for you, including three from Estelle, and they seem to be the most urgent. Understandably she was reluctant to bother you when I told her that you had gone to see Scout Upton, and hadn’t returned.”
    In the process of loosening his tie, Ivar stilled. “And your message?”
    The contempt that curled Maceio’s mouth was impossible to miss. “Your grandmother is, as ever, a cold and bigoted snob. Somehow I thought her stroke would’ve changed her, but she’s still the same. Just a little harder to understand.”
    “Evil never changes.”
    “Sadly, Lady Albertine is living proof of that. She might be paying me a king’s ransom to spy on you, Ivar, but nothing is worth putting up with her poison.”
    “Too bad that fucking stroke didn’t wipe her out, but you know what they say—only the good die young.” Ivar didn’t bother to stifle the bitter disgust. “For what it’s worth, I apologize for every offensive word that troll utters, Maceio. I thought when I hired you that you’d be the one assistant she wouldn’t try to buy off, as she loathes both gays and foreigners. But her hatred of me surpasses even her hatred of those she deems as beneath her station.”
    “At least you warned me that the battle ax might approach me. I’m just proud I’m the one assistant you’ve trusted enough to keep, when so many others before me failed you.” Then he grimaced. “But you should know, I’m not sure things are going as well as they used to.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “I’m starting to feel like Lady Albertine suspects we’re playing her.”
    “What makes you say that?”
    “It’s like… I don’t know.” Maceio shook his dark head, and a shadow of worry hovered just behind his eyes. “I’m getting a strange vibe from her, and I don’t think it’s because of her stroke. She doesn’t seem to be satisfied with the shit I’ve been feeding her like she has been in the past. For instance, she’s obsessed with wanting to know why you’ve made the move from New York to Chicago. She keeps harping on what compelled you to do it.”
    That didn’t sound good. Whether she was at the chateau or in a luxury nursing home, when Baroness Albertine Bénédicte Emmanuelle Fournier turned her attention to anything, it was always for a reason. “Has she mentioned the Bournival name?”
    “No.”
    “Has she mentioned Eliane—my mother,” he amended, merely as an afterthought, “having a connection to Chicago?”
    “No.” Maceio’s eyes narrowed. “Do you think she knows why you’ve really come to Chicago?”
    “It wouldn’t surprise me if she suspected something.” Then he shook his head. It didn’t matter what Albertine knew or suspected. His path was set. “There’s nothing else to do but keep going the way I have been. I have a date tomorrow with Scout, so we’ll see if I make any progress there. For now, keep feeding my grandmother the official line—I’m changing my career focus by becoming a photographic artist, and my first project’s based on famous House Of Payne tattoos. Since there’s no other tattoo studio in the world like the House, it’s an excellent cover for why I’m really here.”
    “Understood.” But Maceio didn’t leave him, instead looking at him with a worried frown. “Ivar…”
    His preoccupied gaze landed on his assistant. “What is it?”
    “You do know that you don’t have anything to prove, right? Especially to that withered-up old cunt. I know who you are. Estelle knows.