Scandalous

Briefly she thought of her own situation and what an impact his presentation had had on her at the time. It had really made her think it was possible to find the truth, that the law was there to be used, if you knew how. That was what she’d wanted more than anything, to learn how to use the law to find the truth. And now she had the means to do it.

“Do you still have his card?” Jean asked.

“I hope so.” Simone popped up and trotted off to her room with Jean close on her heels. Simone reached up to the top shelf of the closet and took down a well-worn shoebox.

Sitting on the edge of her bed, Simone and Jean sifted through the myriad papers, old love letters, and news clippings.

“Here it is,” Simone said jubilantly, holding up the cream-colored card.

“Great. Give him a call,” Jean urged, nudging Simone.

“Today’s Saturday, silly.”

“Oh, yeah, right.” Her bright idea momentarily dimmed. “Well,” Jean said, “that gives you two days to prepare a knock-’em-dead internship-of-the-year presentation speech.”

Simone grinned. “That’s just what I’m gonna do. By the time I finish my pitch to Mr. Montgomery, he’ll be begging me to join his staff!” She turned toward her friend, her black eyes sparking with fire and her soft but firm voice growing serious. “I have a real strong feeling about this, Jean.” She clutched the card in her hand. “I really believe that this internship is going to be the turning point in my life.”

Lucus Stone tossed his copy of the Washington Post across the glass table in disgust. The grainy black-and-white photo of Vaughn Hamilton stared back at him, beautiful, smiling, and confident, a combination that would not be ignored by the voters.

So, the daughter of Elliott Hamilton was truly running against him. The whole notion was almost funny, that this woman thought she had what it took to run against him and win. His deep blue eyes darkened. He’d held his congressional seat for over a decade, virtually unopposed, and he had no intention of losing. Especially to a woman. Especially this woman. He didn’t give a damn who her father was. Vaughn Hamilton was no match for him.

He stood up and ran his hand across his smooth chin, then through the shock of glistening gray hair that gave him an air of confidence and maturity that his constituency loved. However, he mused, there was no point in taking chances. The political tides changed rapidly, and Lucus Stone was never one to be caught adrift. And he was never one to leave anything to chance. He crossed the room in smooth strides and reached for the phone. Punching in the numbers, he waited.

“Hello?” answered a sleepy male voice.

“David, it’s me.”

David Cain slowly sat up in bed, forcing himself awake. Lucus Stone never called him at home unless it was urgent. His thoughts scrambled for organization. “Good morning, Mr. Stone. What can I do for you?”

“It’s afternoon,” Lucus corrected tersely. “Did you see today’s paper?” he asked, demanding to know but also realizing that this miscreant hadn’t even gotten out of bed for the day.

“Uh, no.” David rubbed the last of the sleep out of his light brown eyes.

“Well, get it and read it. Meet me at my office in an hour. I have a job for you.” Lucus broke the connection.

David stared at the receiver. What could be so important that Stone would want to see him at his office on a Saturday? He tossed the twisted sheets off his muscular body and got out of bed. Knowing Stone, he’d better have every line of the newspaper committed to memory by the time they met. He stalked across the lush bedroom and into the adjacent bath.

David turned on the faucets full blast. He’d worked for Stone before on a variety of projects over the years. Everything ranging from local deliveries to intimate investigations of very influential people. Lucus Stone had over the years compiled a dossier on anyone of importance in government office. He was the modern-day J. Edgar Hoover. He was feared but respected. However, Stone’s methods for combating his opponents remained questionable in Cain’s mind. Little did Stone know that Cain, too, had been compiling a dossier—just for insurance, of course. That secret knowledge caused a slow smile to lift the corner of Cain’s wide mouth.

The steaming water rushed over the mass of rippling bronze muscles as Cain flexed and contemplated what his latest project would be.

Sheila Hamilton sat opposite her husband at the white wicker table that had been placed on the balcony. A lush spring breeze blew caressingly over her supple caramel skin, rustled the blooming greenery, and gently stirred the grass. The air was filled with anticipation as the new season primed itself to burst forth. But instead of the sense of expectation that Sheila normally felt at this time of year, she was filled with a sense of foreboding.

“Elliott,” she said softly, distracting him from a case review that lay open in front of him.

Determined not to show his annoyance at the interruption, he slowly removed his glasses from the bridge of his nose and counted, silently, to ten, placing the bifocals on the table. “Yes, dear?” he said evenly, pleased with himself for maintaining control. Control was important, he reminded himself daily. Control dictated every facet of his life—or else there would be chaos, he reasoned. He looked across at his wife.

She hated it when he stared at her like that. It made her feel as if she were under a microscope, a curiosity to be examined. Sheila adjusted herself in her seat and took a deep breath. “Elliott,” she began again, “I have a very bad feeling about this entire…campaign thing,” she expelled, shaking her head with concern. Her smooth brow creased as she continued. She leaned forward. “We’ve been lucky these past years, Elliott,” she said in a hushed but steady voice. “You know that. There’s no way that someone, somewhere, isn’t going to dig up the dirt. This isn’t some local assembly position, Elliott. This is a congressional seat. She’ll be up against an incumbent who hasn’t been defeated in nearly a dozen years! Lucus Stone is ruthless when it comes to opposition. And now, Vaughn will be that opposition.” Her anxiety over her daughter’s future filtered through her voice and registered in a web of tension on her face.

Elliott stood up. His wide jaw clenched. His ebony skin seemed to darken further with unspent outrage. He squinted his eyes into two warning slits.

“I will discuss this one last time, Sheila. I have paved the way for Vaughn all her life,” he said, with a shake of his balding head for emphasis. “Everything has been taken care of for years. There’s nothing anyone can do to her or to us. I won’t allow it. Do you think for one minute that I haven’t foreseen this day and planned for it? Nothing will stop Vaughn from reaching my goals. Nothing!” he said with finality. He straightened and adjusted his pants over the slightly protruding paunch. Then, in a soothing voice, “Everything will be fine, dear. There’s no point in you worrying. Haven’t I always taken care of everything?” He gave her a benevolent smile, patted her hand absently, and got up and strolled into the house.

Sheila Hamilton watched her husband leave, and her heart sank. When had things changed? It seemed only moments ago the young Elliott Hamilton, full of dreams, ambition, and himself, had burst into her life. From the first moment they’d met, Sheila had known that Elliott was destined for great things. He’d caught her up in his dreams. He’d made her a part of his plans. He’d promised her a life of influence, happiness, and luxury. He’d delivered all that he’d promised, and more. And she believed he could do anything he set his mind to do.

Sheila always knew that Elliott was a man driven, and with good reason. He came from a family that had virtually nothing. He was the first member of his family to have an education beyond the ninth grade. But Elliott had changed. He’d become consumed by his own dreams, to be fulfilled and exceeded by Vaughn. At any cost.

She shut her eyes and the old pain resurfaced and twisted her heart. She pressed her fist to her chest. She was afraid. This was the first time in her forty years of marriage that she didn’t believe her dynamic husband had the power to make the impossible a reality. What was more frightening was that she could not intervene. To do so would destroy her marriage and possibly ruin Elliott’s career, and she knew she would lose the greatest love of all…Vaughn’s.

Simone hadn’t told anyone about the money, not even Jean. She just had the irrational feeling that if she spoke about it, it would all somehow disappear. She knew that the notion was ridiculous, but that still didn’t stop her from checking the account every other day—just to be sure.

She sat down on her bed, staring blankly at the array of posters, class schedules, and activity notices tacked to her bulletin board. Somehow she believed that the money was either a clue to her past or a doorway to her future. It was up to her to decide which path to choose.

Her gaze drifted, then rested on a picture of her foster parents that sat on her dresser. She smiled wistfully. She picked up the picture and looked at it lovingly. She loved her foster parents. There was no doubt in her mind about that. Linda and Philip Clark were everything a child could want. They cared for her and loved her unquestionably, regardless of the origins of her birth. Yet deep in her soul remained the silent yearning to know from where she’d come. And why—why had she been abandoned? Why was she so unworthy of her natural parents’ love? That question had gnawed at her all of her nineteen years. At times it made her feel worthless, unlovable, and insecure. She hadn’t been wanted from birth. That was a heavy burden. Then there were those times she’d even had doubts about her foster parents’ love. Why had they never adopted her and given her their name? They had an explanation, a flimsy one, but an explanation nonetheless. One which worked well during her adolescence, but failed to hold up to teenage scrutiny. Eventually she’d stopped asking, but the underlying pain had always remained with her.

Over the years, Simone had valiantly shielded herself from her insecurities, forcing herself to excel. By eighteen, she’d amassed trophies in track and field, tennis and swimming. She’d skipped grades on three separate occasions, had always remained at the top of her classes, and now had the opportunity to graduate a semester early if she could secure an internship to satisfy the requirements for a political science major. Simone was an achiever, a planner and a stickler for being prepared. Which was what she had to be when she made her call.

Simone pushed herself up off the bed, deciding to take a jog around the track and try to organize her thoughts in preparation for her phone call to Justin Montgomery. When she returned from her run she would finish putting together her package containing her cover letter, résumé, and letters of recommendation from her professors. She knew her head would be clearer when she returned. Physical activity had a way of smoothing out the rough edges for Simone. Whenever she had a difficult test or a presentation to make or was struggling through a personal dilemma, she would run or swim. The ultimate result was that her head was always clearer and she had more perspective. For the moment she would put her myriad thoughts and emotions on hold and wait to unleash them on the track.

Her tight thighs and calves expanded and contracted as her sneakered feet pounded against the gravel track. Her arms pumped. Her thick ponytail swung defiantly against the wind. Her slender frame cut an alluring silhouette against the lush green background.

As Simone jogged, the rush of adrenaline pumped through her veins and the clean spring air filled her lungs, clearing her head and crystallizing her thoughts. It was at the moment she rounded the track for the third time that she realized just how she would use her inheritance.

David nearly busted a gut trying to contain himself when Lucus Stone dropped Vaughn Hamilton’s name as his next assignment. To say he’d take great pleasure in getting the goods on that bitch was an understatement. He never thought he’d have the opportunity to make her pay for what she’d done to him. Now he had his chance.

He slammed the door of his red Mustang convertible and started whistling a tuneless song. The engine roared to life and David started to laugh, a deep, dark, dangerous laugh that built to a crescendo as he pulled into D.C. traffic and headed for his office in Georgetown. Shortly after, he pulled into the small parking lot and headed for the building that was sandwiched between a real estate office and a women’s boutique.

He trotted up the three flights of stairs to his office. Tossing his suit jacket onto the wooden chair, he crossed the small room to the locked file cabinet. Selecting the key from his ring, he opened the grey metal file drawer and quickly found the file he needed.

David smiled as he flipped the Lucas Stone file open and made several notations on the back sheets. He closed the folder and leaned back in his chair, staring at the letters emblazoned on his open door. David Cain, Political Consultant. A man for hire, he thought.

He put his feet up on his wooden desk, ruminating about the road he’d traveled to get to where he was. He’d been detoured; there was no question about it. David had been groomed for a life of law and politics. He’d focused all his ambitions on achieving the life of power and prestige that he craved.

Graduating at the top of his law class at George Washington Univer-sity, he’d easily landed a cushy job with McPhearson, Ekhardt, one of the leading law firms in the District of Columbia. He was headed for great things, until his focus became misdirected when he set his sights on the young attorney Vaughn Hamilton. She was magnificent, everything that he had ever desired in a woman. She was ambitious and intelligent, she was competitive, and most of all, she had the right connections.

He looked at the black-and-white photo of her smiling face in the newspaper. She’d remained virtually the same. The years had been good to her. There was only the subtle change around her eyes. More mature? More worldly? He couldn’t be sure. David, however, had changed, at least physically. His body had filled out, and he’d maintained it vigorously. The result was broad, muscular shoulders and biceps. His thighs were thick and they rippled with power. He was no longer the smooth-faced young attorney-on-the-rise. His square chin was covered in a smooth, finely tapered beard that lent maturity and a sense of mystery to his face. Gone was the full-blown natural hair and in its place was a very short, tapered cut. Yes, on sight, David Cain was a different man. But inside, the burning desire to have what he knew he deserved remained the same.

A picture of Vaughn as she’d looked on that last day flashed before him. Even now, after so many years, his groin still grew rigid at the very thought of her. That weakness infuriated him. It had cost him his career. He spun around in his chair to face the soft rays of sunshine coming through the tinted windowpane. The movement only served to aggravate the tension between his legs.

If it wasn’t for her and her stuck-up, virtuous, holier-than-thou attitude, he could have been a Lucus Stone instead of a hired hand. She thought she was better than him, above his advances. What she really was was a frigid bitch who needed a man to teach her a good lesson.

Now he had the opportunity to pay her back in spades. It was one job he would truly enjoy. He closed his eyes and laced his fingers behind his head. Visions of the voluptuous Vaughn Hamilton flashed before him. He twisted uncomfortably in his seat. Now for a plan, he thought.

Chapter 5

It was almost business as usual when Vaughn floated into her office on Monday morning. Almost, because there was a definite feeling of electric energy in the air that hadn’t been present when she’d left on Friday. She’d spent yet another glorious weekend with Justin, and until this very moment, work was the farthest thing from her mind.

The phones were ringing off the hook, staff members were racing around, and when she reached her office, she saw through her open doorway that there were enough phone messages and faxes to start a small avalanche.