Scandalous

by Donna Hill

  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.

  “Ugh,” she said out loud, and stepped into the artsy office.

  “You ain’t seen nothing yet,” Crystal said from her favorite overstuffed chair behind the door.

  Vaughn jumped in surprise. “Darn it, Crystal, if you don’t stop doing that, you’re going to give me a heart attack!”

  “Puh-leese,” Crystal tossed off, rising from her throne. “I’ve been sitting in this same damn spot every morning for the past four years. You need to stop.” Crystal sucked her teeth in dismissal of Vaughn’s complaint.

  “Yeah,” Vaughn huffed, hanging up her teal Burberry trenchcoat on the cherrywood coat rack. “And every morning for the past four years you’ve been scaring me out of my pantyhose!” She rolled her eyes hard at Crystal and tried not to laugh.

  Crystal boldly ignored her. “Girl, get over it. We have work to do.” She strutted over to the desk and deposited a stack of letters and folders. “Every newspaper in the tri-state area wants an interview. We gotta get busy.”

  Vaughn smiled as she watched Crystal flip through her notepad. Under neath that down-home-girl facade lay the mind of a brilliant strategic planner and a heart of gold. Vaughn wouldn’t trade Crystal in for a whole staff full of Yale grads. The girl was awesome. But between friends, Crystal was just plain ole’ Chris from the projects. Vaughn and Crystal were physically opposite in every respect. Where Vaughn was dark, slender, and tall, Crystal was fair, with skin the color of sautéed butter and eyes that shimmered like the blue-green Caribbean. She had wide hips and the kind of high, firm behind women paid money to possess. Her hair, when she decided to wear it out, nearly reached her waist and was blacker than pitch, a result of her distant Trinidad heritage.

  When Vaughn and Crystal had first met on their college campus, Vaughn had silently envied Crystal’s light tones and Barbie doll hair. It wasn’t until years later that Vaughn had discovered that Crystal had her own insecurities about her looks. Crystal, too, had never felt accepted by her peers. She was taunted for “thinking” she was white—boys wanted her only for her looks, and most girls hated her on sight. In retaliation, Crystal had adopted that wise-talking street-girl persona—to be one of the crowd. It was only with Vaughn that she allowed her depth to shine through. The friendship of Vaughn and Crystal was like a catharsis for both of them, and it had blossomed into more than just friendship over the years.

  “So,” Crystal began, once Vaughn was seated. “I’ve scheduled three news conferences for you. One today, and two on Wednesday, and an interview with Channel 6…” she checked her watch, “in about two hours.” She paced the room as she spoke, only briefly checking the notes she’d committed to memory. “I contacted Lucus Stone’s office this morning to see if I could arrange an informal debate. They weren’t having me today,” she stated cynically. “But I’ll be back at them in a couple of weeks, after we get some heavy press coverage. They’ll be ready to talk then.”

  Vaughn took it all in as Crystal continued with her agenda, which included luncheons, meetings, and follow-up appointments. But even as she listened, a part of her was totally detached from the conversation. That part was focused on Justin and the glorious two days they’d spent together.

  She felt as if she’d been transformed into someone else, and she was scared. There was no doubt about that. Her track record as far as love and romance were concerned was dismal at best. The few serious relationships she’d been involved with had ended disastrously. The traumatic ending of her young love affair with Brian Willis had irrevocably changed her life and made her cautious of relationships. Her liaisons in between had been meaningless until she’d met Paul. She thought he’d be the one, but her brief relationship with Paul Lawrence had been the ultimate in betrayal. Though their relationship had been over for nearly two years, she’d remained wary of would-be suitors. Every man who’d come into her life had ultimately wanted something other than her; from a political favor, to money, to casual sex, to an appointment on her staff.

  She knew that she was taking a big risk with Justin. But for the first time, she was with a man who had his own and didn’t need her or her influence to further his own goals. Justin clearly had no political aspirations. He had his own money and a flourishing career. Most of all, he made her feel—God, he made her feel—way deep down in her soul, a place that she didn’t know was still living and breathing within her. Just the thought of him made her toes tingle and her pulse pound.

  She realized they’d barely known each other a month. Twenty-seven fab
ulous days, to be exact. She was still overwhelmed. She knew that her emotions were doing an Indy 500, but she couldn’t help it and she no longer wanted to. She deserved to be held, to be kissed senseless, to be loved. She needed to start living again. It was long overdue.

  “I’ve never known a nonstop, ‘til you drop schedule could put a smile on your face,” Crystal said, effectively cutting into Vaughn’s steamy thoughts. Vaughn’s face burned with embarrassment.

  “Sorry. I was just thinking. But,” she qualified, raising her index finger, “I heard every word you said.”

  “Hmmm. That remains to be seen,” Crystal breathed, unconvinced and very curious. She took a seat opposite Vaughn, crossed her legs, put down her pad, and stared wide-eyed at her boss.

  “What?” Vaughn questioned innocently, knowing full well that Crystal was waiting for a scoop.

  “Don’t what me,” Crystal admonished. “What, or better yet, who put that starry look in your eyes and the glow on your face? If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you looked happy.”

  Vaughn laughed out loud, albeit a bit nervously, at Crystal’s blunt observation. Generally, Vaughn was able to camouflage her true feelings expertly. It was a bit unsettling to discover that where Justin Montgomery was concerned, that practiced skill was disintegrating rapidly.

  Vaughn sat back and began shuffling the papers and folders on her desk in an attempt to recover her composure and avoid Crystal’s pointed gaze. She cleared her throat.