Donna Hill - Scandalous

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.

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