A Scandalous Affair Page 11

  For an instant he was stunned by her gesture. He considered her offer, more than he’d anticipated. “Fine, but I want to be there. Call my office with your flight information.” He rattled off the number. “We’ll talk there.”

  “Always have to be in control, don’t you, Justin. But obviously something’s gone wrong in your perfect world or you wouldn’t be calling me.”

  “This isn’t about me, Janice, it’s about our daughter. Try to remember that.”

  The sword was unsheathed again. “Maybe I’ll even get a chance to meet your wife while I’m in town.” She laughed lightly. “I’ll call you.”

  The dial tone hummed in his ear and he wondered what else would jump out of the Pandora’s box that he’d opened.

  Chapter 18

  Vaughn was so furious she couldn’t think straight, couldn’t pay attention to the bickering back and forth between her staff members over a new bill being presented in Congress.

  Justin had called her less than an hour ago and told her what he’d done. The only thing that kept her from going completely ballistic was that her secretary Martha was in the adjoining office with the door open.

  Impatiently, she tapped her foot beneath the conference table and tried to concentrate. Janice. Damn it, how could Justin do something like that. But that wasn’t the worst, that wasn’t the thing that was searing her insides like a hot poker. It was what he’d said, what he’d tossed to her like a bone: She’s my daughter and I know what’s best for my child.

  Her throat tightened and her eyes burned with hurt and fury. It had come to that. Never in her worst nightmare had she ever dreamed that Justin would say such a thing—to her.

  Following his remark, he’d tried to apologize after her long silence electrified the air between them. It was too late. The damage was done. Now they would both live with the painful words that could never be taken back.

  “What’s going to be our approach, Vaughn?” Spencer Carrington, her house advisor, asked. His deeply lined, craggy face resembled the sculptures on Mt. Rushmore.

  Conversation halted and all eyes turned to Vaughn.

  She straightened and cleared her throat. “We have to maintain the hard line on health care. It was one of the issues that got me elected into office. I’m not going to back down simply because the Republicans are in the majority and against adding any additional government support to the health care system.”

  “We don’t have the support on the Hill that we did at the beginning of your term,” Spencer added.

  Spencer Carrington had worked with her father, Elliot Hamilton, when he was elected to his seat on the bench. He’d been with the family for as long as she could remember in some capacity or the other, and knew the ins and outs of Washington like his own face in the mirror. She trusted him.

  “That may be, but I won’t change my position, not even for votes. What we need to do is begin lobbying to change opinion on the Hill before the bill is presented.”

  “Not to add more fuel to the fire,” Sharlene Gannon, her chief of staff, interjected, “but there are at least a dozen messages on my desk from reporters of every ilk who want to interview you about the police protests, specifically your daughters’ participation.”

  “Release the last statement I gave on this issue, Sharlene. My position on undue force, profiling and shooting of unarmed men hasn’t changed.” She massaged her temples and momentarily shut her eyes against the pounding that had been building in momentum.

  The room grew noticeably quiet and the members at the table looked surreptitiously from one to the other.

  Slowly, Vaughn opened her eyes and looked around. “What?”

  Sharlene leaned a bit closer. “There are rumors that Samantha received a note threatening her life and the family,” she said quietly.

  Vaughn visibly stiffened. She released a breath. “I see.”

  “Is it true?” Spencer asked.

  “No,” she lied on instinct. The note only arrived the night before. As far as she could determine they’d called no one, not even the police. How would the press have found out unless the person who wrote it told? Intentionally. And until they found out who that someone was, she had no comment. “Rumors abound in Washington. It’s what makes our lives so interesting.” She put on her camera-ready face. “Is there any other business for the morning?”

  “No,” was the consensus.

  “Great.” Vaughn stood.

  “You have a noon appointment with Congressman Williams,” Martha advised as Vaughn breezed out of the room and down the carpeted corridor to her office. “And a two o’clock with the contingency from Richmond about their historical preservation issue,” she continued, going down the itinerary for the day. “Then there’s the Budget Committee meeting at four. And I’m sure that will last well past six. It always does. Do you want me to order dinner, call home for you?” She kept up with Vaughn’s unbroken, quick pace.

  “Order something about five, a grilled chicken salad and plenty of Coke.”

  Martha laughed lightly, knowing that was one of Vaughn’s vices—downing ice-cold cans of Coke like water. “No problem.” She jotted it down on her notepad. “Are you all right?”

  Vaughn snatched a glance at Martha as she reached her office. “Of course. Why?”

  The two women faced each other, the years between them a silent, unbreakable bond.

  “If you want to talk…” She let the statement hang there.

  Vaughn pressed her lips together and nodded, then turned and entered her office. Slowly she closed the door behind her. She did need someone to talk to, someone to whom she could explain the riot of thoughts and feelings whirling through her.

  She crossed the room and took the seat behind her desk, swiveling it so she could look out the bay window. Talk, yes, she’d love to talk, get it all out. But after the announcement a few moments ago, she was no longer certain who she could talk to about anything.

  Simone listened in pensive silence as Samantha relayed to her the events of the previous evening, from the finding of the note, up to and including Chad’s spending the night and all that entailed. Simone didn’t know whether to be relieved or furious at Chad, before her emotions would segue to this latest threat and its broadening reach.

  Samantha sat curled up on her couch, still in her robe. She’d called Simone shortly after Chad left to go home and change. Although Vaughn had contacted her the night before to update her on what had happened, she wanted to get the details from Samantha. She could still catch the barely there scent of Chad’s presence.

  “I’m just a mess today,” Samantha confessed. “My head…is completely screwed up.”

  “Did you get any rest at all?” Simone asked.

  “If I did, it sure doesn’t feel like it.” She laughed lightly.

  “You just need to take it easy today. Why don’t you go stay over at the folks’. Let Dottie look after you.”

  “That’s out. I’m fine, really. Or at least I will be. I’m not going to have whoever this SOB is running me out of my house. He’s already stolen a good night’s sleep. That’s all I intend for him to take.”

  “I hear ya, sis. But on the real side, this is nothing to play with.”

  Samantha sighed heavily. “Yeah, I know. Chad said we need to go public, put everyone on notice.”

  “I agree,” Simone said without hesitation.

  “I’ll need to talk with my staff.”

  “Are you planning on going in today?”

  “Yeah, this afternoon. I have so much work to do, I can’t afford to stay out.”

  “I know what you mean. Speaking of which, I’ve got to run. I have meetings until late today.” She rose from her seat, crossed the short space and kissed her sister’s cheek. “You take care, understand. And be careful, Sam. We don’t need any more heroes.”

  “Back at ya.”

  The doorbell rang.

  “Expecting someone?”

  “No.” She got up to answer the door.
r />   “Check first,” Simone ordered.

  Samantha peered through the peephole. “It’s Chad.”

  Simone’s stomach rose, then fell.

  “Hi,” Samantha said, stepping aside to let him in. “I didn’t expect you back…so soon.”

  “I didn’t want you here alone, Samantha.” Simone stepped into his line of vision. “Simone. I didn’t know you were here. I should have known you would be.” He smiled warmly.

  “Just leaving.” She picked up her briefcase and squeezed her sister’s shoulder. “I’ll call you later. Take care, Chad.” She brushed past him and down the three steps to the street.

  Chad watched her hasty departure and Samantha watched him.

  Chapter 19

  Pam was in Simone’s office when she arrived.

  “Pam?”

  “Oh.” She spun away from the desk, her hand to her chest. “You scared me. I didn’t hear you come in.” Her red-tinted lips wobbled into a smile. She moved away from the desk, holding on to a manila file folder. “I was just leaving some messages for you.” She tucked a stray strand of auburn hair back into its customary ponytail.

  Simone stepped farther into the office and tossed her briefcase on a side chair. “They all can wait, whatever they are,” she said absently.

  “Something wrong?” Pam tugged on the hem of her fitted waist-length gray jacket.

  “Nothing out of the ordinary.” She stepped behind her desk and sat down.

  Pam stood above her, arms folded, her large breasts accentuated by the action. “Something is wrong. It’s all over your face. What’s up?”

  Simone looked up. How much could she say? Sam did indicate that she intended to go public with the threats, she thought. It was only a matter of time before it was out in the open, and it wouldn’t be fair to her staff to let them find out from the media. Pamela Osborne had been with her since she was elected to office. She’d worked on the winning campaign, volunteering much of her time. Not one of the Washington insiders, Pam had a modest background, coming not from a prestigious school of learning but one of the city universities in New York. She was a hard worker with innate political instincts, and Simone had come to rely heavily on her opinion. They’d shared not just office talk, but many leisure hours at several of the local cafés and night spots in and around the district. Over drinks, Pam had spoken of her life in New York, coming from a broken home and having to work her way through school, babysitting, working as a supermarket clerk and telephone sales rep while trying to maintain a tenuous relationship with her college sweetheart. A relationship that didn’t stand the test of time. They’d double-dated, gone binge shopping to soothe their relationship woes, and toiled late into the night on political strategy to further Simone’s career. She wasn’t given the position as chief of staff as a gesture. She’d earned it. Sure, she could talk to Pam, and Adam needed to know as well.

  “Has Adam come in yet?”

  “Yes, I saw him earlier.”

  “Do me a favor and get him for me. Then the both of you come in. We need to talk.”

  Adam’s expression was drawn into tight lines on his angular face. His thick brows seemed to move like ominous clouds above his dark eyes as he listened to Simone lay out the events of the previous night.

  Pam rhythmically tapped her pen against her thigh as she listened, a habit she had when deep in thought, her hazel eyes shielded behind her glasses.

  “So…there you have it, folks, in all its ugly splendor,” Simone concluded.

  “I think Chad and Samantha are on the money in bringing this to the press. Whoever it is needs to be put on notice,” Adam stated.

  Pam was silent, still tapping the pen.

  “However, my main concern has to be you, Simone,” he added. “If these threats have extended beyond Samantha to the rest of you, the government has to get involved. We can have a secret-service agent with you twenty-four-seven, and I’m sure your mother will do the same thing.”

  “She hates them,” Simone tossed back, dismissing that option.

  “How is this going to impact on the class action suit that Samantha is in the midst of putting together with Chad and your father?” Pamela finally asked. “I would imagine they’d have to let it go, at least until this thing is settled.”

  “Good question. But knowing my sister, I can’t imagine that she would back off or back down. And I’m sure Chad has no intention of letting it go, either.”

  “My recommendation is that Chad and your father handle it from here.”

  “I agree,” Pam cut in a bit sharply. “And you should curb your public appearances as well.”

  Simone looked from one to the other in complete amazement. “How long have the two of you known me? Years,” she answered for the both of them. “When have you ever known me to run scared? When? Never, that’s when. And I don’t intend to start now. So that’s out.” She pushed some papers around on her desk.

  Adam and Pamela shared a look of submission.

  “Any other suggestions?”

  “Business as usual…” Adam teased, a smile flickering around his mouth.

  “Thank you…both.”

  They stood in unison. “I’ll have your itinerary on your desk in a few minutes,” Pamela said, heading for the door.

  “And I have your remarks ready for the meeting this afternoon,” Adam added, following Pamela out.

  “Thanks, guys.”

  Left alone now, she could take off the mask of bravado. She covered her face with her hands, resting them in almost prayer-like fashion across the bridge of her nose. Her eyes skimmed across the contents of her desk, remembering Pam’s statement about leaving messages for her. Probably buried, she thought absently as the phone rang.

  “Councilwoman Montgomery,” she said wearily. “Yes, Senator Hayes,” she greeted, slipping back into gear, and at least temporarily pushing this latest series of events to the back of her mind.

  “You really don’t have to play chauffeur and bodyguard,” Samantha said as she slid into the passenger seat of Chad’s Volvo.

  “I know I don’t,” he answered, shutting her door and rounding the front of the car. He got in beside her. “I want to. Okay?”

  “Are you going to follow me all over, skulk around corners and talk into handheld microphones hidden in pen tops?”

  “It’s not funny, Sam.”

  “Well, someone has to lighten up.” She folded her arms and tossed her head, swinging her locks away from her face.

  Chad rocked his jaw back and forth as he pulled out of the driveway. He didn’t know what to make of her. One minute she was soft and tender, the next totally inaccessible and hard. He pulled the car out into traffic and turned on the radio.

  Samantha glared at him from the corner of her eye, last night not forgotten. Yeah, it was real considerate of him to show up at her doorstep and escort her around. But damn it, she didn’t want to be in his presence. Didn’t want to risk the possibility of him seeing beyond the thin veneer of emotional protection she’d wrapped around herself.

  She was hurting. She felt like a fool. And here he was, still being the gentleman. She folded her arms a bit tighter and wiggled down into her seat.

  “Sam…”

  “Hmm.” She stared straight ahead.

  “About last night…”

  “Forget it, Chad. I really don’t want to talk about it. And if you’re going to be around me and this is a topic that’s going to be revisited, we’re going to have a problem, because I don’t want to talk about it,” she rattled on. She turned to look out the passenger window when she felt the sting in her eyes.

  “Sam, not talking about stuff is what causes problems.”

  She tugged on her bottom lip with her teeth and didn’t respond.

  “If you’re not going to talk, will you at least listen?”

  Silence.

  “Fine.” He screeched to a halt at the red light. “I like you, Sam, more than you think. But being away has done a lot to me.”
>
  She turned to look at him askance, her right brow raised.

  “No, nothing like that.”

  “Hmm.” She stared back out the window.

  “It made me think about what’s really important, and it’s not our own personal wants, desires and issues. Being away made me realize, Sam, that you can’t take anything for granted, nothing, because life is so tenuous and fragile. Everything must mean something, have a purpose. And when I traveled the world and looked at the injustices, the atrocities, the hunger and devastation, I saw how infinitely small I am in the big picture, when these people are struggling every day of their lives just to survive. I want to have a purpose, Sam. I want my life and what I do to mean something.”

  Now she was beginning to feel like a pouting, selfish little girl. But she was still hurt.

  “Do you understand what I’m trying real hard to say, Samantha?”

  She turned her head to look at him, her eyes darting from his face to the dashboard, her hands, then back to his face. “Yeah, I understand. I’m just being bitchy and sensitive.” She blew out a breath. “I guess last night, I…just wanted to be wanted. I needed to be held and made love to. And the only person I wanted to be that way with…was you. But it was all about how I was feeling and what I wanted. I know that. I guess I figured you were feeling the same way.” She paused, collecting her thoughts. “I admire you, everything about you, your determination, your convictions. And to be truthful—” she looked directly at him “—I still want to make love with you, make that connection with you. Maybe it will happen, maybe it won’t, but that’s how I feel.”

  “Then let’s take it slow, Sam. Work through this. Really get to know each other. Besides, until the dust clears, you’re stuck with me, lady.” He grinned mischievously.

  The corner of her mouth quirked into a half smile. “We all have our crosses to bear, Mr. Rushmore.”

  “Touché.”

  When they arrived at Samantha’s storefront office, the staff was in full swing as usual. Phones were ringing off the hook, and her harried staffers were scurrying around like worker bees.