The Proviso (59 page)

For all the things in her childhood that she’d
lost.

For all the things she’d been made to do.

For all the betrayal and pain and anguish that had
only stopped when she walked out of a courtroom at fifteen, a jaded
emancipated minor, having more than proven that she was better off
on her own than with any available adult at her disposal.

She sat on the chaise and curled into herself and
cried:

For all the bad choices in men she’d made.

For continuing to search for something that didn’t
exist.

For always using sex to assuage her pain, which only
made it worse—and she’d never known that until this moment.

The definition of insanity is doing the same thing
over and over again and expecting a different result.

Yet again, Sebastian’s voice, Sebastian’s guiding
hand, Sebastian’s ruthless will had saved her—from another bad
decision in men.

That man, who wanted her so much, yet would rather
let her go than compete with someone who didn’t exist. Who cared
for her feelings so much he had let her keep a painting she loved,
a painting he should never have let her keep. He had every right to
his mistrust and anger with her. He had reason.

Never before had she had anyone who might feel
betrayed by her.

She had decided to do something different tonight.
If she couldn’t have Sebastian, she would have no one.

You want comfort sex and any cock will do.

Not anymore. Sebastian or No One. And tonight she
had chosen No One because Sebastian was no longer an option.

“Eilis,” said a soft voice above her. The
Virgin.

I don’t think this is a good idea. For either of
you.

Eilis couldn’t fathom why Ford would suffer.

She picked up Eilis’s hands and pulled her gently
off the sofa, then wrapped her in a soft robe. “Come with me. I
started the shower for you.”

Eilis went willingly, her eyes burning so badly from
her tears that she could barely process anything. The Virgin sat
her down in the bathroom on a soft bench she had not seen before.
She began to gently brush Eilis’s hair as if Eilis were five years
old and this woman were her mother. She took her hair and slowly,
carefully, braided it. Eilis began to sob again at the kindness and
the Virgin patted her shoulder. She didn’t deserve such kindness
for what she had done here tonight.

She urged Eilis to rise, pulled the robe back off
Eilis, and led her to the shower. She murmured, “I’ll be back in a
bit and take you home when you’re ready. I’ve put your bag in the
car.”

Eilis nodded and closed her eyes against the hot
comfort of the stinging water.

* * * * *

Sebastian flinched when he heard the basement door
slam closed and the angry footsteps coming toward his bedroom,
where he sat on the edge of his bed, naked, his face in his hands,
both elated and deeply ashamed.

“What in the hell did you do to her?”

“Almost nothing, Giz,” he croaked, his throat sore
from trying to maintain that low rasp. He cleared it. “I swear. She
wanted to stop before I was ready to stop for her.”

“You weren’t going to fuck her?”

“No. It would have been rape.”

“Then why is she crying?”

“She thinks she’s betrayed me. She’s ashamed.”

When he looked up after too much silence, Giselle
was staring off, out the window, chewing on the inside of her
mouth, thinking.

“There’s a lot of pain there, Sebastian. I don’t
know what, don’t know how deep. There’s something going on inside
her that she doesn’t understand.”

“She’s been waiting for Ford to fix her.”

“And as usual, Sebastian gets the short end of the
stick for patching people up and setting them on their feet.”
Giselle turned and sat on the bed beside him. “You have to start
doing something different, Sebastian. You’re about to get called to
Congress
because of how you do what you do.”

“I don’t know how to do it any other way.”

“Does Eilis know what you’ve done for her company
and that
you
did it and that she
didn’t
do it?”

“Yes.”

“You
must
have treated her differently.”

“I thought it was because of the court order. She
didn’t call me and she already knew what had to be done, what I was
going to do. Between the trial and keeping her company together,
she didn’t have time to untangle that knot of executives and cut
through the bullshit before I got there. That had to be done first
and she knew that, but she never got the chance to do it
herself.”

“Sebastian, you obviously haven’t pissed her off if
she’s in love with you.
What did you do differently?
”

He sighed. “I did what I do with you. I wasn’t her
invisible hand. I let her see my anger and I was very blunt.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to get her through her receivership as
fast as possible so I could seduce her. I couldn’t do that while I
was her trustee and fixing things invisibly, waiting for the
epiphany, is a very long process. She didn’t
need
an
epiphany. She just needed a third party to help her get the looters
off her back.”

“And now?”

“I can’t even bear to look at her because I want her
so badly and I know I can’t touch her. The Ford thing’s always been
holding me back and now she’s ashamed she betrayed what to her was
already a dead relationship.”

“Did you ever ask her what
she
wanted or did
you just
assume
she’d prefer Ford over Sebastian because
Sebastian can barely get a date, much less a lover? Did you
talk
to her? Tell her what
you
wanted? That you
wanted a relationship with her and would she please be so kind as
to forget Ford and concentrate on Sebastian?”

He groaned and dropped his face back in his
hands.

“Oh, I see. And you got in
my
face for being
a coward for running away from Bryce. Congratulations. You’re as
fucked up as the rest of us.”

He could say nothing for a long while as he thought
back, all the times he’d gotten angry with Eilis because he
couldn’t see past
his
fixation with Ford, a man he hadn’t
set out to become and couldn’t seem to get rid of.

“Tell me what to do, Giz,” he whispered.

“Act like nothing happened. Act like Sebastian
Taight, HRP’s trustee, who doesn’t know that she loves him, who
doesn’t know this happened tonight, who’s still trying to get her
through her receivership for the same reason. Act the way you have
always acted with her before you left her at Christie’s. You have
to tell her who you are, but wait until you’re on equal footing
again.”

“How can I face her with the truth? I’ve betrayed
her more than she thinks she’s betrayed me. She’s never made a
secret of the fact she wanted Ford, but she has no clue I
am
Ford. I’ve left her hints, I’ve dropped her clues. She doesn’t even
know there’s a crumb trail, much less that it leads straight to me.
At the very least, I expected her to recognize you from my
sketchbook and put it together on the way here. I wanted her to
figure it out and she never did. She never will. He was too much of
a fantasy for her to connect to a real man.”

“
Talk to her, Sebastian!
” she shrieked. “You
should have told her. You have to— Quit hiding behind Ford.” She
stopped, took a breath. “You have to cut open your soul. Take it
from a woman whose man hides his soul from her.”

He choked.

“Do you remember what you told me when I was ashamed
for deceiving Bryce?”

“No.”

“You said, ‘So? It’s not like you pulled off some
elaborate scam and made a fool of him.’ On a scale of one to ten,
this is about a five. It’s recoverable. Just be patient and let her
work through it at her own pace—and help her do that. As you. She
loves
you
, Sebastian. She chose
you
over Ford. Don’t
throw that back in her face.”

* * * * *

51:
MOTHER’S DAY

The Virgin was so kind, Eilis thought as she wrapped
the blindfold around her head. Too choked up to speak, Eilis
couldn’t protest and she didn’t want to see. She didn’t want to
know where she had sunk so low, to know the shame of a betrayer. If
she knew where she was, every time she drove past or heard the name
of the suburb or neighborhood, it would remind her of this
night.

The Virgin helped Eilis down into the same soft,
cradling bucket seat she’d sat in so expectantly on the journey
here. Once the car was started and they were moving, the rich
voices of Sarah Brightman and Andrea Bocelli floated to her ears,
but it only made her cry more.

“I’m sorry,” the Virgin whispered and turned the
music off. She stopped at a drive-through and got her a drink. She
didn’t bother asking if Eilis wanted food, which meant Eilis didn’t
have to speak or explain that food was the last thing she wanted.
She sipped her diet cherry limeade in the silent darkness.

A numb peace settled over Eilis during the long
drive, then:

“Okay, we’re here. You can take your blindfold
off.”

She did. Once the gate opened, the Virgin drove in,
parked, then turned off the motor while the gate slid closed behind
them. But she just sat there, unwilling to move, staring ahead,
tears rolling down her face.

The Virgin opened her door, and tugged on her arm
until she could maneuver her out of the car. Eilis went with her,
all too willing to be cared for by this small woman with the
strength of a man.

She took Eilis in, up the stairs to her room,
undressed her, and tucked her in bed. She even brought her a drink
of water.

“Eilis,” she said softly, “I’m going to take down
your painting. Where would you like me to put it?”

Eilis couldn’t speak, couldn’t fathom a moment when
that painting wouldn’t hang on her wall where she could see it the
minute she opened her eyes in the morning.

“Well,” said the Virgin after a while. “I’ll just
put it on the floor then.”

Eilis heard her take it down, turn it around, and
lean it against the wall. Then she felt the Virgin over her, felt
the soft kiss on her temple, the hand smoothing her hair.

“I’m sorry, Eilis. I’m so sorry,” she whispered, and
Eilis felt her tears drop on her face, the shift of the bed where
she sat, and fell asleep with her mother’s soft hand stroking her
hair.

* * * * *

Eilis awoke, unable to tell the time of day because
her heavy drapes—the ones she never used—were drawn. Her clock had
disappeared.
Morning in Bed
stood on the floor, face to the
wall, and for that, she was glad. She arose, wrapped a thin robe
around her so she couldn’t see her body in the mirror, and went
downstairs to do . . . something.

She wasn’t quite sure what.

Startled when she heard sounds coming from her
kitchen, her heart began to race. There were people in her
house!

“Thank you, Ares,” she heard from where she stood on
the landing, out of sight but not out of earshot, a woman’s voice.
The Virgin. Why was she still here? “Will you come back
tonight?”

“If you’re here, I will,” said a male voice, hoarse,
raspy, much deeper, more damaged, than Ford’s. “I won’t sleep alone
again.”

“It was rough on me, too.”

Long silence, and Eilis peeked around the corner to
see the Virgin’s legs and arms wrapped around a very tall, very
broad and well-dressed man with black hair and fair yet
olive-tinted skin, who kissed her hungrily.

She was married, Eilis realized in wonder. Yes, she
wore a wedding ring, Eilis remembered now.

Their kiss softened and deepened, and the Virgin
whispered, “I don’t want you to go.”

“I don’t want to go.” Not long after that, he let
her slide slowly down his body and set her on her feet. “See you
tonight. Have a good rest of the day.”

“I’ll call you.”

He left. Eilis watched as the Virgin watched her
husband until his SUV was out the gate then activate the switch to
close the gate behind him. She turned, her fingers to her mouth and
a soft, dreamy smile on her face, then went back into the kitchen,
out of sight.

Eilis walked down the rest of the stairs, suddenly
feeling bereft. Again. Ashamed. Guilty. For what she had done to
Sebastian, what she had done to herself, what she’d not be able to
have with Sebastian now. She reached the kitchen and saw that it
was one o’clock in the afternoon. The Virgin stood over a double
boiler, whisking the contents half to death. Curious, Eilis
approached slowly to look over her shoulder.

“Good morning, Eilis,” said the Virgin softly as she
whisked.

Eilis sniffled. “What’s that?”

“Hollandaise sauce. For the steak and eggs. How are
you feeling?”

“Not well,” she whispered, a catch in her voice and
her heart because of the gentleness and kindness of this woman whom
she did not know. “My soul hurts.”

Eilis didn’t know where that came from but the
Virgin stopped whisking and looked at her, solemn, her eyes
glittering with moisture. She swallowed. “What’s your name?” Eilis
whispered.

The Virgin hesitated for a moment, went back to
whisking, and then said, “You don’t need to know that.”

“Why are you still here?”

“I thought you could use someone to take care of you
for a while. I— I, um— I can go if you don’t want me here . . .
”

At the thought of that, someone to take care of her,
Eilis shook her head and began to cry. Lunch was forgotten.

The Virgin took her to the living room sofa and sat
with her. She rocked Eilis and sang lullabies to her, stroked the
hair that had stayed in its braid all night. This woman, the Virgin
who wasn’t, was her mother yet again.

And Eilis needed a mother so very badly. She began
to pour out her soul to her mother. Her life, her history, the
things she’d never told anyone, the things she could never tell
Sebastian—would never have the chance to tell Sebastian. She didn’t
refer to her biological parents by name because she hated them too
much to validate their existence by speaking their names aloud.