The Proviso (9 page)

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.