The Proviso

by Moriah Jovan

  The few people he recognized hadn’t recognized him. He didn’t mind. He didn’t want to have to talk about where his family went, what happened to his face.

  As for the people who had noticed him and shied away, he couldn’t judge them any more harshly than anybody else, since he had that effect on everybody—

  —but one.

  Miss Giselle Cox.

  Knox Hilliard’s lover.

  Who had made herself very clear about what she wanted from him, what she knew he could give her.

  He’d never known temptation like her, not even as a young man. He lusted after her and his breath shortened at the thought of her body, naked under his, what he wanted to do to her, what he wanted her to do to him.

  He wondered if could bury his pride enough to pursue her, to seduce her away from her lover. Bryce didn’t care that she obviously had a great deal of experience; he minded that her experience included Knox Hilliard.

  No, he decided, he did not want to go where Hilliard had been.

  * * * * *

  8: GREEDY ENEMY OF THE STATE

  NOVEMBER 2005

  Giselle and Sebastian sat at the conference table, Giselle studying and Sebastian tapping away on his laptop. Fox News blared in the background. Knox came through the front door and up the four steps to the conference room, dumping his briefcase and computer on the table. He, too, sat down to work without a word.

  “Feds finally decide you didn’t kill Leah?” Sebastian muttered after a while.

  Knox grunted. “Don’t even know why they bother investigating me anymore for anything. Over a year. Waste of taxpayer money.”

  *

  “Breaking news this afternoon from Kansas City, Missouri. OKH Enterprises CEO Fen Hilliard has announced the formation of an exploratory committee for a possible run for the Senate seat that will be vacated at the end of this term—”

  *

  All three of them turned toward the TV and gaped. Giselle’s breath caught in her throat and she felt the blood drain from her face. Knox dropped his head in his hands.

  “You have got to be kidding me,” Sebastian whispered, eyes wide. “FUCK!” he roared, slamming his hands on the table as he got up and started to pace, his hand rubbing his mouth. “I gotta go make some calls,” he muttered finally, his long legs eating up the distance from the dining room to his office. Giselle winced when the door slammed.

  She and Knox traded sober glances. Fen had put Sebastian in check brilliantly, thus setting Knox and Giselle back in play if he decided to call Giselle’s bluff. Giselle never bluffed. Though she dreaded the consequences of taking Fen’s life, she would see it done.

  “Murder doesn’t wash clean, Giselle,” Knox offered softly, reading her expression with the ease of a lifetime spent together.

  She looked away, biting her bottom lip, nauseated.

  *

  “Should Democrat Fen Hilliard win the seat, he will tip the balance of power in the Senate. Some on Wall Street speculate that he would bring the necessary leverage to pass legislation that would force his nephew, financier Sebastian Taight, to cease his takeover of OKH Enterprises. How such legislation might impact the financial landscape is unknown at this time.

  “Taight, infamous for his Fix-or-Raid policy, has been accused by various corporate executives and members of Congress of deliberately sabotaging companies that have hired his services. Though no fault has been found in various audits across the spectrum of companies Taight has taken over, a Hilliard win in the Senate could trigger long-anticipated hearings on Capitol Hill to call Taight to answer these allegations and account for his business practices.

  “On a related note, another of Hilliard’s nephews, Knox Hilliard, Chouteau County, Missouri prosecutor and heir to OKH Enterprises, was only recently cleared of last year’s murder of his bride. No other suspects are in custody at this time, but investigations into the allegations of corruption in his office are ongoing.”

  *

  Knox snorted. “They make us sound like a couple of thugs.”

  The office door flew open and Sebastian was even more angry. “Gets worse,” he snapped, leaning over the table toward Knox. “Kenard’s on the guest list for the fundraiser next month.”

  Knox paled underneath his perpetual tan and he wiped his hand down his face.

  “This is what’s going to happen,” Sebastian said. He took up pacing again, his hands on his hips and the expression he got when he had to churn through thousands of possibilities to deal with a problem. “You— Giselle—” She started, but he went on. “You are going to go to that fundraiser with me next month and if Kenard shows up, you are going to keep him away from Fen. I’ll attempt to keep Fen away from Kenard.”

  “Are you out of your fucking mind?” Knox demanded.

  Sebastian stopped and stared at him, an eyebrow cocked wickedly. “Are you concerned for Fen’s life or that—Bonus!—Kenard will love her?”

  Knox looked at him stonily.

  Sebastian smirked. “That’s what I thought.”

  “Okay,” Giselle said, “I missed the boat. Who is this person and what am I supposed to do with him and why am I doing it and why doesn’t Knox want me to?”

  “Bryce Kenard,” Sebastian explained, “is the most powerful tort lawyer in Kansas City. Possibly in the Midwest. He’s filthy rich—like, maybe he has a couple bucks more or less than I do—and he has influence. He keeps his politics to himself, and for Fen to court him means that he can’t come up with enough campaign money from amongst his cronies. Kenard’s support could be the difference between his running for Senate and not. Giselle,” he continued, his tone urgent, “it is imperative that you keep him away from Fen. If Fen doesn’t get Kenard’s support that night, he’ll have to work that much harder to drum up the kind of cash Kenard could give him.”

  “That makes no sense. Why couldn’t he get it any other time?”

  “Kenard gives people one chance to pitch ideas at him. If they don’t get him in the first thirty seconds, they don’t get him at all. You know Fen likes to put on a show and he’ll think that’ll impress the hell out of him without having to say a word.”

  “Okay. What am I supposed to do with him?”

  “All you have to do is be yourself,” Knox mumbled. “He’s brilliant and he likes nothing more than erudite conversation.”

  “Your job is to lead him away from Fen—preferably out of sight and as far away from the party as possible—and fuck his mind. He’ll forget everything else but you and Fen will know that he was singularly unimpressed.”

  “I don’t like this idea,” Knox pronounced.

  “Of course you don’t,” Sebastian snapped. “Pee on her leg before she leaves for the party, whydontcha?”

  Giselle looked at Sebastian. “Why is Knox being pissy?”

  Sebastian looked at Knox and smirked. “Ask him. If he tells you the truth, I’ll give you three months’ rent free.”

  She looked at Knox, who sat stone-faced. “Well?”

  At which point, Knox whipped out his checkbook and wrote a check to Sebastian for three months of her rent. Sebastian howled and Giselle decided she didn’t care why Knox was upset; she’d take the money and keep her curiosity to herself.

  Once Sebastian had calmed down enough to get back to business, he leaned across the table and got right in her face. “This is very important. You must have scared Fen enough to get him to back off you two, but now he’s coming after me. There’s just too much anti-Taight sentiment on Capitol Hill. He could easily get me shut down—and he’d most definitely be able to haul my ass in front of the Senate. Wouldn’t Fen love to have me and Knox sitting at a table in front of him and the nation, grilling us like we were teenagers again.” He dug a credit card out of his wallet and flipped it at her. “Go get a dress. Make sure you have cleavage.”

  * * * * *

  9: MARGARETHA ZELLE

  “Very nice,” Sebastian drawled with appreciation when Giselle emerged from her bedroom on
the evening of Fen’s exploratory fundraiser.

  The strapless dress, reminiscent of 1950s Hollywood glamor, had two layers. The pencil underskirt of white brocade was beaded and sequined along the edges of its floral motif and the hem just kissed the toes of her black sling-back heels. A long slit up the right side allowed Giselle her full stride and relatively quick access to the gun strapped around her thigh without marring the skirt’s narrow lines.

  The full black silk taffeta overskirt had a slight train. The front of it parted in an A shape from waist to floor and flared out like a cape when she walked. It framed the white underskirt with stark elegance. A small decorative pouch hung from an inconspicuous strap on the inside of the skirt to function as a pocket or, should she care to wear it on her wrist, a reticule.

  Above her skirts, a lightly silver-embroidered and jet-beaded black velvet corset hugged her torso well enough to guarantee that just the right amount of bosom blossomed over its top so as to tease without being vulgar.

  She’d dressed her hair in a modified, messy chic Gibson girl style. A diamond and ruby bracelet, borrowed from Sebastian’s mother, sparkled loosely on her wrist and Giselle’s own diamond earrings dangled from her earlobes.

  “Rubies,” Sebastian said once he’d carefully assessed the details of her presentation. “Wear your ruby drops. Are you sure about going strapless?”

  Giselle glanced down at the puckered indentation in the soft hollow just under her left shoulder. “Fen needs to see it so he can commence kissing my ass.”

  “Make sure you don’t let Kenard wheedle the story out of you.”

  “Pffftt.”

  “I’ve heard he’s clever like that.”

  Once she’d changed her earrings, Sebastian held out a white mink bolero jacket for her, also borrowed from his mother.

  “This is what you need to know,” Sebastian told her in the limo on their way to the Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art. “Kenard’s a widower. He’s an honorable man and a consummate gentleman. He’s also a member of the church—”

  “Really?” Giselle perked up, suddenly a lot more interested in this project.

  “Don’t. He’s apparently one of those super-strict letter-of-the-law Pharisee types. You know, the kind you don’t like, and he was on the fast track to bishop before his wife died. He won’t appreciate any seriously heavy flirting—not that you know how to do that anyway. Talk about philosophy, art, literature, music. If you end up talking about the church, keep your heresies and sacrilege to yourself. No profanity. Whatever you do, do not talk about politics. Don’t give him any reason to ditch you and go back to the party. If he shows up, it’s because he thinks Fen is an honorable man and he’s seen no evidence to the contrary. Don’t begrudge him that.”

  “What’s Knox’s problem with him?”

  Sebastian slid her a look. “He paid your rent, so he must not want you to know.”

  “Yeah, that was his transaction. This is yours. Two completely different obligations.”

  Sebastian laughed. “I really am a bad influence on you. Knox and Kenard have history that involves Kenard’s late wife and they haven’t spoken in ten, twelve years. Something like that. Either Kenard didn’t want to face reality or he didn’t get the memo about Knox’s taste in women.”

  “Which does not include married ones.”

  “Better. Young married anorexic blonde ones.”

  “Ooh. Four strikes, he’s out.”

  “I don’t know anything other than what I’ve told you, but there’s probably a lot more to the story. Knox is pretty tight-lipped about him.”

  No wonder he had reacted so vehemently to this little scheme. There were few things Knox wouldn’t share with her, but if he didn’t, it had hurt badly enough that he’d buried it. Once Knox buried his pain, he didn’t dig it up if he could help it.

  “I haven’t felt inclined to socialize or do any business with him because of that. I’ve seen him around here and there, but I’ve never met him.”

  She looked out the window, her fist clenched between her mouth and the cold glass.

  “Hey, Giz.” Sebastian snapped his fingers in front of her face. “Do what I told you to do and don’t let your outrage on Knox’s behalf get in the way. Shit, I shouldn’t have said anything at all, ’cause now you’ll wear it on your sleeve and fuck it all up.”

  She sighed, unable to deny the probability of that. “I’ll try.”

  The limousine came to a halt in front of the art gallery’s great wrought iron doors festooned with enormous lit Christmas wreaths, their windows aglow with the lights of a grand party. Sebastian swept her into the building and checked her jacket.

  Kirkwood Hall, the heart of the gallery, was marble-clad, four stories high, and punctuated by twelve enormous marble columns. In the center of the hall stood a twenty-foot Christmas tree decorated with white lights, enormous silver and gold glass balls, and red velveteen ribbon. To their right lay the Rozzelle Court restaurant, a faithful replica of a fifteenth century Italian villa courtyard. Inside, a catering service had prepared a feast of hors d’oeuvres. In the open gallery above the courtyard, a chamber orchestra played Christmas carols.

  Many important people milled about, all dressed in high fashion, all vying for attention. Giselle wasn’t particularly impressed, considering she had arrived with King Midas. The place echoed with the sounds of titters and guffaws, murmurs and bluster, and the click-clack of women’s heels.

  “So, where is he?”

  “I don’t see him. It’s possible he won’t show. Let’s go find Fen.” She trembled. “Make nice, now, Giz,” Sebastian murmured. “You hurt his feelings at Thanksgiving this year, ignoring him like you did. You were downright rude about it, too.”

  “Oh, fuck him. I haven’t heard any apologies coming my way, and until I do, he’s not funny.” After wandering a bit, they found him almost where they came in, going from one cluster of chatting people to the next, shaking hands, laughing, introducing Trudy. Giselle had to admit that Fen was a handsome man, as tall as Knox, his near-white hair coiffed with refined elegance, his face pleasingly carved, his nose perfectly straight and patrician. Incredibly fit, he wore his tuxedo with aplomb. Charismatic, generous, and blessed with a silver tongue, he was the perfect picture of a senatorial candidate and cameras adored him. He turned the heads of women a fraction his age.

  Knox would look exactly like Fen in twenty years, a true Hilliard but for the blond hair and blue eyes Trudy had given him. Not for the first time, Giselle wondered if Fen was Knox’s father, but she said nothing. The three of them had worn that topic out years ago.

  Knox’s mother was exquisite as usual, her blonde hair swept up in a chic knot and her slim figure wrapped in a mint silk ruched gown that had a few too many ruffles for Giselle’s taste. She resisted the urge to rip one or two of them off to streamline the damn thing, but as she and Sebastian drew closer to Fen and Trudy, she contented herself with one disparaging glance down her aunt’s body.

  Giselle curled her lip slightly, just enough for Trudy to see her contempt, and Trudy clenched one fist at her side, as if she wanted to hit Giselle. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t before, but now Giselle wasn’t an awkward thirteen-year-old slavishly devoted to earning the approval of her beautiful aunt, and Giselle raised an eyebrow, daring her to say a word. Trudy looked away.

  “Ah, Sebastian, Giselle.” Fen greeted them expansively, as if he hadn’t tried to kill Giselle twice and threatened Sebastian with a seat in front of a Senate panel. “So glad to see you here. I didn’t realize you would be interested or I would have invited you myself.”

  “I’m always intrigued when the CEO of a company I have a controlling interest in decides to run for Congress.”

  “Come, come, Sebastian. I’m sure nothing will change for you when I win a Senate seat.” His voice held the slightest hint of a threat, detectable only to people who knew him very well. “Giselle,” he murmured, taking her hand and kissing it. “How are you?”

&nb
sp; “I’m just fine, thanks; haven’t seen any goons lurking around corners lately.” She smiled sweetly.

  Fen leaned toward her. “You just can’t help getting your digs in, can you?” he gritted, his mouth locked into a grin. “One of these days, I’m going to slap the teeth right out of your smart mouth, little girl.”

  She turned her head so that she could whisper in his ear. “Aw, I did hurt your wittow feewings.”

  He drew away from her slowly, still in candidate mode, all four of them still smiling. His gaze caught on her shoulder then and he sucked in a breath. When he swallowed, Giselle chuckled and a faint flush rose in his cheeks.

  “Is that remorse I see, Unk?” Sebastian drawled. “And you didn’t even send her a get-well card.”

  Fen’s jaw clenched behind his smile. “Move along, you two. I don’t want to babysit you all night, particularly since you insist on acting like children. I’d prefer you leave altogether.”

  “No can do, Fen,” Sebastian replied with an entirely fake chuckle. “We’re just here to eat your food, drink your booze, and be a general pain in your ass.”

  “As usual.”

  They left him there fuming. Giselle still chuckled, but Sebastian’s body radiated tension and his muscular arm felt like wool-and-silk-covered cast iron under her hand. He picked up a glass of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray and downed it in one swallow.

  “I gotta figure out how to get out from under Fen’s thumb,” he muttered. “Remember when he caught you, me, and Knox blowing up frogs with the bike pump when we were kids? And threatened to tell my dad? I feel like that right now.”