The Proviso

by Moriah Jovan

  He turned back to his cleaning, and at that moment, Justice felt more normal than she had since she’d come to the Chouteau County prosecutor’s office.

  She jumped when she first felt, rather than saw, Knox sit on the floor beside her, so close up against her that her shoulder overlapped his, and she looked at him. He wore only a pair of gray jersey biking shorts. He didn’t look at her, but stared at the enormous canvas mostly hidden behind scaffolding.

  “Did you tell her who you are?” Knox asked hoarsely, and Sebastian threw another quick look over his shoulder before continuing to clean his tools.

  “So nice of you to join us. Yes, I did. She doesn’t know Ford. Or the proviso.”

  Knox sucked up a quick breath, held it, then released it with a soft, “Oh, shit.”

  “Yeah.”

  Justice didn’t bother questioning him about this turn of the conversation, as she knew she’d get no answers. She simply tucked the information away in the file drawer of her mind; it could wait until she’d sorted out the most pressing points of her situation first.

  “Iustitia,” Knox murmured and she blinked. He reached a hand up to smooth some of the hair out of her face, and his mouth thinned when a stray tear tracked down her cheek. “I’m sorry.”

  She flushed a little. This was the Knox who’d defended her, given her her name and her first kiss, sent her to Giselle’s for pampering and coddling, done those . . . indescribably magical things to her out in the grass.

  He was also the one who’d forced her to stay in the prosecutor’s office and marry him at gunpoint. Force. It was a word she used often in reference to Knox.

  “You knew I was a virgin,” she said low, pretty sure Sebastian couldn’t hear over the distance and the running water. “The whole world takes one look at me and knows I’m—was—a virgin, but I certainly never expected it to hurt. My mother— She didn’t want me to get mixed up with boys until after I’d done something grand. So I didn’t. It didn’t matter anyway. I never had any time to learn anything about it first hand, never had anybody to talk to or ask. I never had a boyfriend, I never went to a prom. I never participated in any of the university activities and never dated.

  “I had work to do and books to study and articles to write and blogs to keep up with.” Justice didn’t attempt to hide the bitterness in her voice because she deeply resented that he didn’t know who she was. “I didn’t have time to read for pleasure and certainly never had time to think about what other girls think about. Last week, at Giselle’s—thank you, by the way—was the first vacation I’ve ever had and I got to read what I wanted to read and that was the nicest thing about the whole week.”

  She drew a deep breath and decided to lay it all out for him. It wouldn’t make any difference anyway; she couldn’t be more humiliated.

  “You come at me and do things to me I don’t have any experience with. Yes, I’m almost twenty-five and yes, it’s pathetic that I’m like this, but I can’t help it. You’re so much older than I am and I’m scared. I’m scared of you, scared of what you make me feel, scared of what you’ve made me do, scared to know why you’ve made me do it, scared of what you’ll do to me or my dad if I don’t do it. That night at the symphony? That was my first kiss. Ever.”

  His eyes widened a bit and she could see his Adam’s apple bob when he swallowed. Then he reached across her and touched her chin, the same way he had done three years ago, and gently guided her face around to his. He leaned over to her, his wrist brushing her hip as he put his hand on the floor to brace himself, and kissed her. Softly. Slowly.

  She closed her eyes and sighed, kissed him back the way he had taught her, because— What else could she do? She hadn’t forgotten that she had come out here to beg him to let her go, but she didn’t seem to want to do it right now.

  All she wanted right now was this man to keep kissing her.

  “Hello! Does anybody remember I’m still in the room? Dammit, Knox, you couldn’t have taken your time and slowly seduced the girl, could you? Oh, but wait. I forgot. That’s not your style. It just wouldn’t be the same if you didn’t terrify her first and then seduce her. You’re a bull in a fucking china shop, as per usual.”

  “Shut up, Sebastian, and mind your own business.”

  “She is my business.”

  She blinked. And how was she this man’s business?

  “Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

  Sebastian ignored that. “Any blind man can see the girl’s naked as the day she was born. Why couldn’t you have just done it her way instead of dragging her along doing it your way? And why couldn’t you have just told her up front and let her decide? That would’ve been the honorable thing to do.”

  “Sebastian,” Knox said slowly. Justice realized his temper had blown and fortunately this time, not at her. “Shut. Up. And. Go. Home.”

  “Fine,” Sebastian snarled, and stalked around looking for something until he found his car keys. He walked to the other door, then turned for a parting shot.

  “You’re a piece of work, you know that? You were so disgusted at Giselle’s cowardice that she kept Kenard on ice for almost a year, and it wasn’t a month ago you pounded my head into the table for being a coward, but now you have way less room to talk than either of us. You’re so much of a coward you’d rather sink to the lowest evil than risk being turned down if you asked for what you wanted with a modicum of decency and sincerity. Shit, and here I thought what you did to Leah was fucked up, but she did have a choice. So the next time you feel like getting all self-righteous and indignant, you remember this. This—” He pointed at Justice. “Makes you no better than Lucifer himself.”

  “You don’t believe in Lucifer,” Knox snarled in return.

  He stared at Knox, his eyebrow cocked. “I do now. The Lord might forgive you Parley, but this— No.”

  With a click, the lights died and Justice couldn’t see at all. Then headlights pierced the blackness but were gone when the car—an old battered pickup—drove away.

  Justice and Knox sat there on the barn floor in the dark and the silence. For the first time since she could remember, she did not mind the silence; in fact, it seemed rather comforting, like a soft blanket fresh from the dryer on a cold day.

  She turned the situation over in her head, looked at it, took it apart and put it back together again seventeen different ways. A few incomplete hypotheses later, she realized that she couldn’t deduce the bigger picture because she didn’t have enough information or experience or both.

  The only thing she could deduce for a certainty was that she had been handpicked to be Knox’s wife and the mother of the child he needed, and that she—no one else—was crucial to their situation. She could also conclude that no matter who had chosen her, she would’ve ended up here one way or another. She’d just saved everyone the trouble by showing up on Knox’s doorstep.

  “You’re thinking again,” Knox said quietly, interrupting her thinking, which annoyed her.

  “Why did you choose me for this—this Handmaid’s Tale? Why this elaborate farce?”

  “There’s a method to my madness, Iustitia.”

  “You should’ve just asked me. I would have given you anything after that day in class when you touched me and defended me—if you had just asked.”

  Knox arose. “No, you wouldn’t have,” he said, his voice suddenly hard.

  Justice gulped. The Knox of the soft kisses and the Knox who had held her and apologized over and over as she sobbed her pain into his chest was not the only Knox inside that beautiful body of his. She must do better to remember that.

  But that didn’t stop her from taking Lucifer’s hand and allowing him to gently help her to her feet. She also didn’t protest when, as they walked across the lawn back to the house, that his hand splayed lightly across her back.

  At least she could now conclude that he did, in fact, remember her and that day in class.

  * * * * *

  All the way home from Knox’s house, Seb
astian thought about his visit with Little Miss Kingmaker, his unwitting partner in crime.

  She’d shocked him, that girl, the most magnificent redhead he’d ever seen in his life sitting quietly on the barn floor watching him paint. With her arms wrapped around her knees, she’d been lost in the hugeness of Knox’s clothes and she looked so very sad, so very alone and bewildered. And very young. She reminded him of someone, though he couldn’t figure out who.

  Obviously the poor girl had been threatened, probably at gunpoint. She had looked a tad on the roughed-up side, so he guessed there’d been no wedding night ecstasy.

  Sebastian sighed.

  He vaguely regretted he hadn’t met that girl before he’d met Eilis because wouldn’t it be a kick to have a matched set of the three women in his life? But no, Knox would shoot him if he even suggested painting her.

  Sebastian knew Knox’s taste in women and Miss McKinley clearly rose head and shoulders above any woman Knox had ever had in his bed. In fact, he thought absently, if Eilis weren’t in his heart and soul, filling every corner of his mind, he’d have taken that girl home, stripped her down, painted her, and then fucked her himself, mind and body, Knox be damned. She was that beautiful, that brilliant.

  She had large tousled mahogany copper curls that framed and accentuated her face, then fell to her shoulders. Her face was pure pixie, the freckles, amazingly, screaming “fuck me!” and freckles never said that. Her skin was as pale and almost as iridescent as the paint he’d tried to mix with diamonds. She had amber eyes that she probably classified as hazel, but would glow gold when she laughed.

  Copper and gold. Copper and gold.

  That girl was a simmering teapot about to blow. With rage or passion, he couldn’t tell, but he’d sure like to be witness to it. She looked like she was about to morph from a timid wee folk into a sword-wielding virago if Knox pushed her hard enough—and Knox would definitely do that. He could clearly see this girl had spirit and was ripe for the training she’d need to take on Fen if she had to.

  On the other hand, Knox had given her no choice, and what had seemed rather innocuous in theory was, in reality, truly evil. It went against everything the Dunhams believed and practiced, and Grandpa Dunham would have kicked all three of their asses for it. He felt shame rise in him again as he thought about all the bitching he’d done about his involvement in OKH, constantly riding Knox to get married.

  He was enjoying the hell out of every minute of this takeover, especially once Giselle had drawn the blueprint and Kenard had thrown his checkbook and influence in the ring. Likewise, Oakley had figured out the entire plot the minute Knox had told him, “We want you to run for Senate” and agreed with a hearty laugh; then the rising star conservative pundit had been persuaded (albeit covertly) to give her endorsement to Kevin, however reluctantly.

  When Little Miss Kingmaker had set about lecturing Sebastian, he’d seen her true colors in a blinding red, white, and blue fireball. He might have had a good friend and ally in her if they hadn’t been willing to take her freedom, make her a prisoner, manipulate her and use her youth and naïveté against her.

  Yeah, it’d been easy in the abstract.

  He’d pressed Knox to this. All Knox had wanted to do was wait until after his birthday, go find that beautiful girl—with too much knowledge and wisdom for all that selfsame youth and naïveté—hat in hand, and ask her out, woo her, court her, charm her so that she never, ever had to see who and what the corrupt and murderous Chouteau County prosecutor was all about.

  In a flash of insight, Sebastian understood what Knox had really wanted with Justice: To feel like the good Mormon kid he’d been before he’d traded his personality and his salvation—his soul—for the lives of people he didn’t know, when he’d been looking for a nice LDS girl he could take to the temple. He could have approximated that feeling with Justice if he hadn’t been able to use Sebastian’s constant bitching as an excuse to justify his impatience to have her, to have that with her.

  He had borne Sebastian’s mockery for years for being faithful, for believing what Sebastian considered a senseless doctrine. He would have thrown Knox a party after his excommunication if Giselle hadn’t pitched one of her better fits.

  First Fen wouldn’t let him go on a mission like he wanted, which made him completely untouchable to the single female population of the church. And now he’s just lost his priesthood, his membership, and most of his family—the most important facets of his life—in one fell swoop. You’re damn near an apostate and everybody in the family still loves you; he’s a true believer and he’s been disowned. I swear, you can be such a fucking asshole sometimes.

  Sebastian never thought he could feel more miserable than he already did.

  When Sebastian had stood at the sink cleaning his knives and Knox’s voice had come out of nowhere, he had looked over his shoulder to see Knox seated on the floor beside the girl, snuggled up against her as if to beg forgiveness for whatever he’d done or hadn’t done. Sebastian had gone back to cleaning but strained to hear their quiet conversation, then turned again when they’d stopped speaking to see them making out like teenagers. He watched them together and sure enough, Knox had lost ten years off his face, that cruel edge it had acquired during Parley’s trial.

  And her! She was a woman in love, lost in a daze of sensuality and seduction, taking anything and everything Knox had to give her, wanting more.

  Sebastian was pulling into his garage when it crossed his mind that though Justice would have gone to Knox willingly if he’d told her the truth and asked her, Knox would never have believed it even if he’d been told straight up, thus, he hadn’t bothered to try. Then Sebastian’s eyes widened with devastating epiphany.

  So that was why Knox did everything the hard way. Oh. Sebastian swallowed. Hard.

  Mab.

  That was who Justice McKinley reminded him of.

  Faery Queen Mab, bringer of dreams.

  * * * * *

  77: A PROBLEM WITH HIS POWER

  Last night had been a dream. It had to have been because Knox was no different today than he was yesterday. Or the day before that. Or any day since she’d walked into the courthouse. The only reason she knew it wasn’t a dream was because she was very sore and very stiff and she was in his car, going to work with him.

  He hadn’t slept with her. Once in the house, he’d clipped down the stairs to the basement without a word, leaving her to journey on to the bedroom alone.

  He still hadn’t answered her questions nor, given the way the day started out, would he anytime soon. Didn’t matter. Justice could barely look at him.

  He was irritated that he had no extra toothbrushes and so had lent her his after nuking it for thirty seconds or so.

  He was irritated that she had nothing new to wear but what she’d worn the day before, which necessitated a trip to Wal-Mart for a change of clothes: a simple black skirt, crisp button-down shirt, and a pair of basic black pumps, her beautiful gold dress and pretty shoes stuffed in a crappy plastic grocery bag.

  He was irritated by the fact that when they rolled up into the parking lot—late—there were the usual swarms of people about and quite a few who took note of the fact that she had come to work with him. He commenced to railing at her about the dependability of her piece-of-shit car and her perpetual tardiness, which put everyone back in the right mindset about why she had arrived with him. Once he finished thoroughly humiliating her over a nonexistent situation, he stalked off ahead of her and left her alone to walk the gauntlet of people who smirked at her for being the prosecutor’s most long-lasting target to date.

  He was irritated all morning and took it out on not only her, but everybody in the office, too. He snapped at her to put her shoulder holster on and snarled at her for leaving it at the courthouse instead of taking it with her when she left—but there were no semi-amused glances askance at her today because Knox spread the love equally and generously.

  Justice decided to conduct business
in an empty jury room downstairs. Everyone else who didn’t have court scattered as well. Two residents ended up in the same room with Justice and the rest found other empty rooms in which to work.

  Predictably, Dirk and the rest of the defense attorneys found this hilarious.

  At lunch, she told Richard she had to take care of some things. She grabbed her laptop, went to hide in a dusty, nearly forgotten storage office, and began googling.

  Ford: A recluse artist whose true identity no one knew, whose paintings were world famous and worth millions.

  Sebastian Taight: Nothing she didn’t already know, except that he speculated heavily in art. No surprise to her now.

  Fen Hilliard: Nothing she didn’t already know.

  Knox Hilliard: She’d googled him a gazillion times since she’d started working for him, so she didn’t know why she bothered. She saw nothing new, but she kept going back pages and pages and pages. There must be something to find since Sebastian had all but given her a roadmap.

  What do you think of OKH Enterprises?

  She doesn’t know Ford. Or the proviso.

  “Knox Hilliard,” she whispered as she typed into Google. “OKH Enterprises. Proviso.” Bingo, the first hit on the first page, a three-year-old article in the Wall Street Journal entitled, “OKHE bride murdered, groom suspected.”

  She read. And as she read, her stomach began to roil as she got deeper and deeper into the long story.

  *

  To date, Knox Hilliard’s wedding and announcement of a birth are the most anticipated social events on Wall Street and financial quarters across the country, especially as the deadline, Knox Hilliard’s 40th birthday, looms. If he fulfills the terms of the proviso, his net worth could increase by as much as a half billion dollars.

  *

  Justice barely made it to the restroom before she threw up.

  * * * * *

  He was still irritated at the end of the day when he had to go looking for her because she wasn’t at her desk. She looked up from her stack of files when he appeared in the door and leaned against the jamb, his arms folded across his chest. He stared—well, glared—at her and she shrunk into herself.