[English] Consequences

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For a moment, Claire sat silently contemplating Catherine’s words—a rare opportunity?—a trust?—an intimate side of himself? She hadn’t asked for any of this. With all honesty, she considered the possibility of bolting from the symphony. Did Catherine expect her to feel honored? She mostly felt…well, conflicted.

Catherine insisted that Claire eat a light dinner before dressing. The beaded silk gown with the halter bodice fit like it was custom made for Claire. With the Ralph Lauren black high-heeled shoes the dress’ length was perfect. The beading made the material heavier than Claire had anticipated. Watching herself in the mirror, Claire turned ever so slightly and the skirt pitched that direction. It was the most stunning dress Claire had ever seen, much less worn. Next, Catherine assisted Claire with a lightweight black silk wrap and matching handbag. Inside the handbag she placed lipstick and powder. Catherine reminded her, there will be people everywhere, remember appearances are everything.

“Ms. Claire, you are striking!” Catherine’s eyes shone in approval. Claire looked at herself again in the mirror and felt like she was viewing someone else. Tentatively smiling at that person in the mirror, Claire agreed she looked beautiful.

At 5:50 PM they left the suite for the foyer. Instead of the usual route, Catherine took Claire the longer way, forcing them to descend the grand stairs. When they reached the top of the stairs Catherine coughed ever so slightly. She looked up at Claire, taller than her in her heels, and gave her one more reassuring smile. Catherine gestured for Claire to descend the staircase first.

Waiting by the front door, iPhone in hand—texting, stood Anthony. He emitted confidence and animal magnetism. His tuxedo, obviously tailored specifically for him, looked exquisite as it accented his broad shoulders. There wasn’t a piece of his dark hair out of place as it was gelled and combed to perfection. His face was smooth like he’d recently shaven. Claire couldn’t help but think that he looked incredibly handsome. Following the sound of Catherine’s cough, he glanced to the top of the stairs. Suddenly, the business that was demanding his attention appeared to be forgotten. He watched as Claire gracefully descended the flight of steps. As his eyes beheld her every move she wondered if she should smile. She wasn’t sure how he would react. His expression emanated favor. Claire wanted his approval. She told herself she didn’t need it. She was happy with the way she looked, but she knew she wanted it.

Once at the bottom of the stairs she proceeded to Anthony’s side. He didn’t speak at first, then not to Claire but to Catherine, “My dear Catherine, you have outdone yourself. You’re an artist.” He bowed to her at the waist.

“Mr. Rawlings, an artist is only as good as her canvas. You are accompanying a beautiful canvas.”

“Or”—he said—“should we say—she is accompanying me.” Now to Claire, he commanded, “We must go, Eric is waiting.”

If Claire were concerned about conversation topics on the drive to Davenport, she needn’t have been. After assisting Claire into the back of the limousine, Anthony once again became engrossed in his iPhone and multitasked with his iPad. On days he worked from home, Claire was often expected to stay in his office in case her services were required. She overheard many business calls, web conferences, and webinars. Therefore, listening to him discuss some dealings on the phone on the way to the symphony seemed strangely comfortable.

Claire wanted to thank him, tell him how excited she was to leave the estate and see something—anything; however, his work preoccupied him throughout the ride. She was busy too, watching out the tinted window, seeing different views and different things. Even the sensation of being in a car exhilarated her. She’d never ridden in a limousine. The interior was exquisite, and she could smell the soft leather seats that formed a horseshoe.

They approached Davenport as the sky filled with a mixture of pink and purple; it reminded her of vibrant paints swirled together. Soon the sky began to darken and the lights of the city illuminated the horizon. It was the most splendid combination of sky and skyline she’d ever seen.

Minutes before their arrival, Anthony ceased his business and turned to Claire. “Has Catherine prepared your behavior for the evening as well as she has your appearance?”

Claire thought to herself, Somewhere in that statement is a compliment. I’m going to take it. “She’s given me her advice, but I’d feel better if I heard yours.”

“Very well, when we arrive there will probably be photographers. Don’t act surprised or shocked by the attention. Just flash a beautiful smile and radiate confidence. Stay next to me at all times. There will be reporters who’ll try to learn your identity. I have a publicist who’ll know the time to release any necessary information. That is not you. I will do most of the talking; however, common sense will need to be with you. If spoken to, you will respond, but do not share information that is privileged. Do you understand?”

“I do.”

“I’ve been asked to attend this event because of a donation I made to the Quad City Symphony and the Support the Arts Foundation. Have you ever been to a symphony before?” Claire said that she had not. Anthony continued as the limousine snaked and crawled along narrow streets. Traffic was stop and go. Claire thought this meant they were getting closer. “The symphony is a delightful evening. I believe you’ll enjoy the music. This conductor is incredibly talented.”

“Thank you, Anthony, for allowing me to join you this evening.”

“I admit you’ve learned your lessons well. Now it’s time to see if you can continue to follow the rules outside the boundaries of my estate.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Anthony gently took Claire’s chin and turned it toward him, “You will succeed. Failure in a public setting is not an option.” Their eyes locked on each other.

“Yes, Anthony. I will continue to follow your rules.” The car slowed and stopped.

Anthony whispered, “Wait for Eric, he’ll open the door and assist you in getting out. I will be right behind you and we’ll enter the theater together.”

Catherine said there would be people looking at them, and Anthony warned about photographers, but Claire hadn’t expected the Emmy red carpet treatment. There were cameras everywhere and people shouting questions. At WKPZ there was a meteorologist, Jennifer, about ten years Claire’s senior. She took Claire under her wing and taught her all about working for a news station. Jennifer was preparing Claire for the cameras, prior to the buyout. The stage advice Jennifer gave her about appearance and demeanor proved helpful. She told Claire, “When those cameras turn on and your image transcends people’s living rooms, they don’t care if your dog just died, your boyfriend cheated, or you won the lottery. They care about the weather. So find a mask, keep it polished, and when that red light turns on, wear it proudly.” It worked for Jennifer. She retained her position after the buyout.

Eric opened the door. Claire gently swung her legs outside the car and put on her mask. It was the mask of the beautiful face she’d seen smiling back at her in the bathroom mirror earlier that evening. Her movements flowed gracefully and her smile never waned. She diligently followed everyone’s advice.

Anthony exited the car, nodded with a handsome smile to the crowd, and gently placed his hand in the small of Claire’s back. Her nervousness changed to exhilaration as they advanced through the crowd and into the theater. Waiting inside the doors was a man who enthusiastically greeted Mr. Rawlings and escorted them upstairs to a private room. Once there, the reporters were gone, but the people remaining were equally anxious to speak with Anthony Rawlings.

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As they mingled, Anthony took two crystal flutes of champagne and handed one to Claire. His voice sounded different—chatty—as he greeted and was greeted by different people. He graciously introduced his companion, Claire Nichols, to the individuals and couples they encountered. Claire smiled politely, shook hands, and made small talk. Claire watched the man she’d come to know; he seemed so different. Many people wanted to talk to him, and he knew all their names. After so much time alone, his social skills captivated her.

After the lights flashed, he gently touched her elbow and led her to their seats. They stepped through the black curtain where Claire could see the entire theater. Anthony had directed her to a private box above and to the right of the stage. They sat and she beheld the magnificent view, ornate walls, crowds of nicely dressed people, and beautiful velvet curtain. Too quickly, the au***orium darkened and the spotlight hit the stage.

A woman with a German accent began to speak, “Before we begin tonight’s performance, I would like to thank everyone for their attendance. I would like to ask you, the audience, to join us at the Quad City Symphony in thanking the one man who made this evening’s performance, as well as future performances, possible, Mr. Anthony Rawlings.”

Suddenly, the spotlight shone directly into their box. The crowd erupted in applause and a standing ovation. Claire watched as Anthony stood and acknowledged the gratitude with a dashing smile and a wave. He sat back down, and with the light still on them, leaned over and took Claire’s hand. She smiled at him; his eyes were so light. The spotlight turned off and the symphony began.

They hardly spoke during the entire performance other than to comment on a musical piece. When not occupied with applauding, Anthony’s hand continued to gently hold Claire’s. The entire concert ended too soon. The lights came up and they stood to go. Whispering in his ear Claire thanked him again. It was more than she could have imagined. He smiled, gently placed his hand in the small of her back, and led her through the crowd to the foyer. Once outside, Eric opened the door of the waiting car and Anthony assisted Claire as she entered the limousine.

The stark contrast in volume left Claire’s ears ringing as the limousine pulled away from the curb. Her mind swirled with thoughts, the evening was wonderful—music, champagne, people, theater, everything. They were riding for a few minutes when she realized Anthony hadn’t spoken since they entered the limousine. Her heart rate increased as she contemplated the possibility he was upset. She told herself he couldn’t be. She did everything everyone told her to do. She kept up appearances and let him do most of the talking. She felt his eyes upon her, but was afraid to turn and face them. The ringing in her ears turned to silence—completely devoid of sound—silence. She adjusted her new mask and turned. “That was a magnificent evening, thank you again.”

“Do you really think so?”

She wondered if he was asking about the symphony or her. “I do. The music was performed beautifully and you were right about the conductor.” Her pulse quickened, unable to take the suspense any longer, she asked, “Did I do all right?”

“What do you think?”

She contemplated her answer. “I think I did well. I listened to Catherine, and to you, and did well.” She hoped her voice didn’t expose her insecurity.

Anthony didn’t respond but reached into his briefcase. Claire assumed the conversation was now over, and he planned to resume work. She decided if the conversation was over and he didn’t say she failed, she must have succeeded. She exhaled.

Suddenly, he turned to her and extended a square black velvet box. “I believe you did well.” She liked the tone of his voice, it sounded like the man at the theater. “I told you every action has a consequence. That can be negative, as we’ve seen, or positive. I believe that tonight, you earned a positive consequence.”

“Anthony, I don’t need a gift. I wanted to make you proud. If I did that, then I’m happy and that’s enough.”

“It is a gift, or at least I believe it was; however, it’s not new.” Anthony still held the box before Claire. With the running lights illuminating the cabin she could see his smile: genuine, not cruel or sadistic. “Will it always be this difficult to get you to open gifts?”

She took the box. “You have my curiosity peaked. What are you giving me that’s old?”

She opened the velvet hinged box. The lump in her throat made her choke, unable to speak. The dainty white gold chain with a pearl on a white gold cross hung on the satin. The surprise overwhelmed her. She only saw the necklace for a millisecond before her eyes filled with tears. She looked at Anthony again, tears trickling down her cheeks. “How did you? Where did you get this? It was my grandmother’s.”

“It was in your apartment in Atlanta when it was cleaned out. I thought you might want to have it. Do you?”

Claire listened to his words. Her apartment had been cleaned out. Where were the rest of her things? She needed to compartmentalize. Right now, she concentrated on her grandmother’s necklace. “Oh, yes, I do!”

He asked if he could help her put it on. She nodded yes—a verbal answer wasn’t required. Next, he took the box out of her hand and started to remove the satin board. Claire observed his tenderness as he held the fine chain and delicate clasp. She turned away and he draped the necklace around her neck. Taking the compact out of her purse, she watched as the pearl moved up and down to the beat of her heart.

“Anthony, there isn’t a necklace you could have bought that would mean more to me than this.” Her tears dried, yet her emerald-green eyes sparkled.

“People who know me well, and they are numbered, call me Tony. You may call me Tony.”

“Thank you, Tony. This has been an amazing night. How can I ever thank you?”

Tony turned off the riding lights in the cabin. Home was still over a half hour away and the window between them and Eric was closed. His smile morphed into a devilish grin. “I have a few ideas.”

My formula for living is quite simple. I get up in the morning and I go to bed at night. In between, I occupy myself as best I can.

—Cary Grant

Chapter Nine

‡

The weather continued to warm. Claire could now sunbathe in her new bikinis. Each time she stepped through the door onto the deck of the pool, she felt like she was entering a resort. She could eat at one of the umbrella tables or read in a lounge chair or swim in the tepid water. The Iowa sunshine resulted in a beautiful, golden tan. Her hair, which was always brown, now shimmered with golden highlights contrasting the normal chestnut shade.

It seemed impossible, but Claire actually felt busy. She would wake, work out, shower, and eat breakfast. Then, if Tony were out of the house, the possibilities were numerous. The pool remained a good option; however, Claire preferred that in the afternoon. What she enjoyed beyond anything was exploring the woods. The land around Anthony Rawlings’s estate extended for miles in most directions. One evening, she asked if walking in the woods was permitted. Tony explained that she could probably walk hours and not reach the property line. He never ventured into the woods, but he had flown over in a helicopter *****rvey the land, determining the best location for the house. This made her feel better about exploring. He didn’t want her leaving his property without him or his permission, but she could wander and roam and still follow the rules. The fact that even Tony hadn’t been out there made it more appealing.

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Claire wanted to learn all about the land. To do this she decided to go different directions each time she ventured through the trees. She discovered areas where the trees were so dense there was no ground vegetation and it remained cool even as the temperatures of summer increased. She also found spontaneous clearings usually filled with flowers. The earlier in the morning Claire went into the forest, the more flowers she would see. There were morning glories blue as the sky above. After the sun’s warmth caused those to close, the white daisies and yellow mustard flowers would fill the void and create a multicolored canvas. With flowers came insects. Claire watched the bees busily pollinating and the multiple kinds of butterflies fluttering about. She decided to check Tony’s library to see if he had a book that would help her classify the different species.

Catherine expected Claire back for lunch each day, so she tried not to venture farther than an hour and a half in any direction. During her past life, she walked for exercise, sometimes at a gym but more often around her neighborhood in Atlanta. Walking on sidewalks and through a nearby park she measured distance by time. One mile took fifteen minutes. Lately, her adventures took her along the path less traveled. It wasn’t unusual for her to climb over fallen trees or up steep embankments. Due to these obstacles Claire estimated that one mile took closer to twenty minutes. With those calculations she traveled approximately four miles away from the house on each adventure.

One morning, she happened upon a den of foxes. Initially frightened, she watched them from a distance. There were two large and three small foxes. The small ones ventured away from the den, but the larger ones would always be within sight. It reminded Claire of camping with her dad. It filled her with warmth and a reassuring glow of protection.

It seemed like more recently she thought about her childhood and not her pre-contractual adult life. Perhaps it was a compartmentalization thing. Childhood was the past. It couldn’t be changed, only remembered.

Her life before March 15 was actually present—or should be present. She should be in Atlanta, tending bar at the Red Wing and trying desperately to find another job in meteorology. She should be going out with friends and drinking so much her head hurt the next morning. She should be talking to her sister on the phone or e-mailing her and learning about her and John.

Currently nearing the end of June, Emily would be out of school for the summer. John was a busy associate in a law firm. Before Claire disappeared, Emily mentioned visiting Claire. “You know I’m off work in the summer and John is busy. I could come spend some time with you in Atlanta.”

“Gosh, that would be great, but it gets really hot here in the summer, and I have to work, so you would probably be bored.” Claire now felt bad that she hadn’t been more encouraging. Honestly, she worried that Emily would disapprove of her tending bar or something else. Claire hadn’t wanted to listen to her advice. Now she would love to hear her advice or even her voice. Claire sighed and wondered about Emily, did she wonder where Claire had gone? Had she tried to contact her? Soon she realized the wooded scene in front of her was blurry and tears were spilling over her lids onto her cheeks. Claire decided to avoid those thoughts. Put them away in that compartment labeled later. Childhood provided safer thoughts and memories.

Tony explained that his land was virtually pie-shaped. The front of the property was where the drive met the highway, then the house, and then the land fanned out from there. Claire felt as though she was getting a handle on the layout of the property but it was taking time. Luckily, she thought that is the one thing I have plenty of, because there’s a lot of land to explore. Of course, that followed with thoughts of the mysterious timetable. When would her debt be considered paid?

One cool morning, Claire sat on her jacket at the edge of a beautiful clearing and watched a magnificent wildlife performance. First, she saw deer run across the open field. With each jump their white tails caught the sun like bright white powder puffs. The longer she sat the more deer she saw. They would slowly approach the clearing, run across, and slow again once in the safety of the trees. There was no threat to them at that time, but instinct told them that the trees held security. Claire wondered where her security was, or perhaps, this was a lesson in instinct?

Claire contemplated talking to Catherine about packing a lunch so that she could stay out in the woods longer. Then she decided that might be something to do when Tony was out of town. She didn’t want to get lost and not be back to the suite by 5:00 PM. She hated his rules, but following them made her life more pleasant.

On days Tony stayed home, exploring wasn’t an option. He required her to stay near in the event her services were needed. She was often told to stay in his office where she would read, sitting on the soft leather sofa until he summoned her. There were days when he never requested her services, yet she wasted the entire day in his office. Claire knew it was more of the continued power play. He controlled her time, her body, and her life.

To continue her busy days, after lunch Claire sunbathed by the pool or read on the sun porch. She also had the library that could captivate her for hours at a time. If it rained she might opt for a movie in the theater. There were so many things to do. The ad***ion of an occasional evening out with Tony was the biggest change to Claire’s busy schedule. It started with the symphony. Since that time she accompanied him to a few other events. None as formal as the symphony, and all charity related, different foundations having dinners or ****tail parties or benefits. Each time Tony would tell Catherine that Claire needed to be ready for a specific event. She liked getting out away from the estate, but an invitation instead of a mandate would be nice. Apparently, companionship to events had now been added to her job description. Claire believed she did well at each turn and felt confident as long as Tony was near her. He would handle any situation that came her way.

At an event to honor donors of the University of Iowa’s Children’s Hospital, Claire stood dutifully at Anthony’s side while he spoke with a gentleman to whom she’d been introduced. Another man began to speak to her. It started innocently enough, “Hello, Ms. Nichols, I’m not sure if you remember me? We met a few weeks ago at the Quad City Symphony.” His volume was low—to either lure her away from Tony or not be heard by him. Claire believed she remembered him. She tried to remember names as well as Tony, but she could only recall his face. He then introduced himself, “Charles Jackson,” and made small talk about the symphony. He started asking her about her place of residence, did she live in the Quad City region? Chicago? What brought her to this area? The entire time Claire stayed steady to Tony. She didn’t want to interrupt Tony’s conversation, but her instincts told her this wasn’t good. She successfully avoided direct answers, but he persisted beyond political correctness. She decided she needed to get Tony involved before this man dragged something out of her she wasn’t allowed to divulge. She lightly placed her hand on Tony’s arm. At first, he didn’t respond, so she squeezed it a little. When he excused himself from his conversation, he turned to Claire. She hated that she interrupted him, but she wore her mask and politely motioned toward the gentleman.

“Anthony, this is Charles Jackson.” Anthony turned to Charles and shook his hand. Charles appeared uncomfortable. It was not an emotion shared by Tony. “Mr. Jackson has been incredibly inquisitive. I thought you might be able to be of assistance to him.”

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Claire stood back a half a step, still holding Anthony’s arm, and watched as he turned to Mr. Jackson, who looked increasingly pale. Anthony’s voice was one Claire recognized immediately. It was not his chatty social voice, “Mr. Jackson, I’m very good with names and faces. I remember seeing you at the symphony. I do not believe we were introduced. It’s not my practice to converse with members of the press. It is my policy to allow my publicist to discuss such matters. I recommend that you speak to her, not my companion.”

Mr. Jackson didn’t have difficulty distinguishing the tone or the meaning. He apologized profusely to Anthony and then to Claire and made his way out of the event. Claire felt ill. She honestly didn’t know how she would have handled it without his help. Tony placed his hand on top of Claire’s as Mr. Jackson walked away.

“Tony, I’m sorry I interrupted your conversation. I just felt uncomfortable.”

Leaning down to her ear and squeezing her hand, he whispered, “It’s fine. You made the right decision.” She exhaled with relief.

Her current job passed its three-month anniversary. She still felt trapped and hated that she was there, but she didn’t hate every day. She thought of each day as a new possibility, and like everyone else in the world, some days were better than others. She knew the difference with her life was that her barometer was not her. It summed up her dependence on Anthony Rawlings. The tone of her life depended totally and completely upon his frame of mind.

He traveled a few days a week every couple of weeks. While she was secluded to her suite, he’d been in Europe, which apparently happened with some regularity. These momentary freedoms upset her. Instead of relishing them, she felt lonely. There would be some evenings that he had business obligations and wouldn’t dine with her or even come to her suite. Some of his ideas for her job requirements didn’t settle well, but she came to prefer that to being alone.

June came and went. Since Claire chose to not watch television, she didn’t know that the entire country was enduring a heat wave. She just knew that the outside air was heavy and within minutes could feel the perspiration dripping between her breasts and down her back. If a breeze blew it felt sticky and oppressive, not refreshing. Even being at the pool was uncomfortable unless early or late.

One evening, Catherine told Claire that Mr. Rawlings wouldn’t be home until late. Claire didn’t like vague terms like late. Normally she would wait in her suite to see if he came to her, but the day was scorching and she knew late could mean not at all. With the sunset, she decided to take a swim.

Walking to the pool, Claire realized she rarely ventured out of her suite at night. The house seemed eerily quiet, like a museum after closing. The staff were mostly retired to their rooms and the lights were low. Her flip-flops echoed as she stepped onto the marble floor at the base of the staircase. After four months, Claire didn’t need lights, she knew her way through the arches and into the sitting room. She paused at the windows and looked out to the pool. The water changed from pink to green to yellow to purple to blue to clear and back to pink. The deck lights were off, creating the illusion of a colorful abyss engulfed in complete darkness. She considered turning on the deck lights and decided against it.

Stepping into the summer night, the air sat heavy and still. The contrast from the air con***ioning reminded her why she stayed indoors all day. Looking toward heaven she knew she made the right decision about the lights. The velvety sky glistened with a million stars. The water enveloped her body as she walked down the steps, its temperature barely varied from the air and she quickly submerged herself. After swimming a few laps she floated on her back, watching the sky and thinking about constellations. Suddenly, Claire froze.

Deep in thought and enjoying the stars, she realized Tony was standing at the edge of the pool. He’d been speaking, but her ears were submerged and she couldn’t hear him. Seeing his silhouette from the lights of the fountain startled her. She lifted her head out of the water to clear her ears and began to tread water.

“Tony, you startled me. Catherine said you wouldn’t be home until late.” She couldn’t see his eyes. She waited for him to respond. He stood in silence for a moment. As she debated about talking, he walked to a chair hidden in darkness. When he returned she could only see his silhouette, but knew he was now nude.

Still not speaking, Tony dove into the pool. He swam up to Claire and wrapped his arms around her. Within seconds, Claire’s bathing suit disappeared. His actions were fast and rough. Their mouths united as their tongues searched wildly for one another. He moved from her lips to the nape of her neck and all places in between. The pool depth allowed Tony to touch but not Claire. She wrapped her legs around his torso, allowing him *****pport her. He continued to nuzzle her neck, lifting her body so her round supple breasts found his lips. His kisses became nips and he gently bit the tips of her hard nipples. Claire groaned with pleasure.

His hurried movements caused his bristled face to scratch her soft skin; however, the pain of his beard was quickly forgotten as the pleasure from his touch filled her consciousness. His mouth tantalized and his hands explored. Claire’s back arched as she pressed her breasts toward his mouth and wrapped her fingers in his wet hair. Though the night was hot, Claire’s arms and legs cloaked with goose bumps. In the silence of the country night her moans echoed as her body convulsed.

Tony eventually led Claire out of the pool, onto a chaise lounge. He resumed his exploration; however, not with his hands. They still hadn’t spoken. Claire’s mind teetered between the cognizant he doesn’t seem upset and the unconscious ecstasy. His actions slowed—became more deliberate and sensual—causing sensations deep inside of her. She held on to his massive shoulders and accepted everything he had to offer.

The carnal heat intensified by the night’s humi***y instigated perspiration. Claire tasted the amazing salty, sweat, and chlorine potion as her lips and tongue seduced his neck. When he finished they were both moist, more from one another than the pool.

Panting, they lay still, listening to the cicadas and crickets. Finally, with a grin, Tony spoke, “Good evening, Claire.” His eyes were soft suede brown. “I wasn’t happy when you weren’t in your suite.” Claire started to speak but stopped as Tony’s finger lightly touched her lips. “But your idea of a swim on this hot evening was much better than what I planned.”

Claire smiled. They moved back into the water to cool off but found that even in the water they had problems staying cool.

Later that night in Claire’s suite, Tony brought up the situation at the University of Iowa Children’s Hospital Event. He told her it hadn’t been a planned test; however, had it been, she would have passed. He believed she could be trusted with more responsibilities and independence. Therefore, on her table was a wallet containing her ID—her driver’s license and a new cre*** card. The card was on his account and was for her use when he wasn’t around.

“What do you mean when you aren’t around?” Her voice didn’t hide her fear. Tony smiled at her trepidation.

“You’ll only leave the grounds without me, with Eric, and my permission, but I’ll need to travel to Europe for at least a week next month. You’ve behaved well.” He smiled and ran his hand over her bare thigh and buttocks. “Very well, and you’ve followed instructions much better than I would have given you cre*** for a few months ago.” His hands roamed; Claire’s eyes closed as her body responded. Tony’s voice was both masterful and playful, “As a matter of fact, I believe right now you would do as I say.”

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Opening her eyes, she gazed into his, and answered, “I would.” Her voice yearned as her body mindlessly obeyed, responding to his touch.

“I think we should continue to test that theory,” he said with a devilish grin. “But first I believe you have earned the ability to do some shopping for yourself.”

Claire’s first thought was, she didn’t want to be by herself. What if someone like Mr. Jackson approached? But then again, wasn’t that what she’d wanted since she arrived, to be out, away, alone forever? She would need to file these thoughts, compartmentalize, and think about them tomorrow.

Tony was testing his theory. She needed to hear his every word. The directives for this test were proving playful and exciting. Claire knew she could pass.

Life is not what it’s supposed to be. It’s what it is. The way you cope with it is what makes the difference.

—Virginia Satir

Chapter Ten

‡

Standing at the rail of her balcony, Claire stared at the scene in front of her. The rays of moonlight illuminated the yard and tops of the trees, changing the familiar objects to unfamiliar colors. Under its brilliance, the trees appeared black and the grass silver. The multitude of stars glistened as she listened to the sounds of coyotes in the distance. This noise worried her. She thought about the smaller animals in the woods and hoped for their safety.

Although she hadn’t been outside long, the humid air caused her to perspire. She could feel her hair stick to her neck as droplets of sweat rolled down her back. Claire received word—Mr. Rawlings wouldn’t be home until after 10:00 PM and she would dine alone. This was the third night in a row. Last night, he hadn’t come to her suite at all. The night before, it’d only been for a few minutes to touch base. Apparently, things had been extremely busy.

The clock said 11:00 PM when she retreated to the balcony. She hadn’t seen him, or received a message, and wanted to do something—anything. Patience wasn’t a virtue she possessed in her old life. Now as she gazed at the countryside, she knew she was losing what little she’d recently been forced to acquire. She was thinking about how even the air smelled warm when the door behind her opened.

“Oh, hi, Tony, you startled me.”

“I thought perhaps I’d need to search for you again. Then I noticed the drapes.”

“I didn’t know if you were coming tonight.”

He indicated for her to come back inside—she complied. He shut the door. “You didn’t get my message?”

“I did. It’s just later than normal.” Seeing him in the light, she realized he looked tired and thought how he rarely appeared anything but ideal. Things must really be rough with work. She wanted to talk to him about it, but in the past, he didn’t, or wouldn’t, try to explain things.

“I came to let you know I’m flying to New York tomorrow. I have a business deal which apparently will fall apart if I don’t get personally involved.”

“How long will you be gone?”

“Damn it, Claire, I don’t know for sure.” He told her to come to him, and she did. He held her so close that she needed to look up to see his eyes. He lowered his face to her hair. With her head against his chest, she heard him sigh. “This has been a pain-in-the-ass deal. It’s been in the pipeline for years. The time alone has cost me millions, what with research and analysis. Now it seems like everything is falling through.”

Claire didn’t know anything about the deal. She did know this was more than he’d disclosed to her at one time. She wanted to help, to make him feel better. She didn’t want to do anything because he owned her, but because she wanted to. As terrifying as Anthony Rawlings could be when he was strong and controlling, she didn’t like seeing him meek and worn down either. “Tony, is there anything I can do?”

He moved her away, to see her face. “Are you asking me? I don’t think that has happened before.”

She leaned back into his chest. “I want to help you relax before this big meeting.” She stood on her toes and kissed his cheek and neck as her hands unfastened his belt and slacks. She pulled his hand and led him to the bed, where he sat. Claire knelt in front of him, his hands held her face, and she moved toward him.

The entire night, Claire was in control. She did what she wanted, what she believed would help him. Her pace was slow and more thorough. Tony tended to move fast, rough, and hard. Claire moved steadily, softly, and completely. He’d told her exactly what he wanted and how he wanted it for over three months. She knew what he liked. The most surprising part to Claire was that he allowed it. He would sometimes grab her and push, deeper and harder. Then he would allow Claire to take over again.

Lying together in Claire’s bed, Tony surprised her again. “Thank you.” He rolled to face her. “Thank you for giving yourself. You keep me totally amazed.”

They were both almost a sleep when Tony announced, “You’re coming with me to New York tomorrow. You can use that new cre*** card again while I have my meetings. And after tonight, I may need more of this, depending on how the meetings go.” Claire had a million questions, but stayed silent. Tony continued, “No, I will need more of this, no matter how the meetings go.” They fell asleep.

A little before 6:00 AM, they boarded Tony’s private jet. Catherine woke Claire about 4:30 AM. Since she and Tony fell asleep after mid-night—wake-up came very early. When Claire woke, Tony was no longer in her suite. She showered while Catherine packed her luggage. There would’ve been a time when Claire would’ve been horrified to have someone else pack her belongings for a trip, but today it reassured her. Catherine seemed to know exactly what Claire needed and when she needed it. Allowing Catherine to take care of her needs had become second nature.

Claire’s light yellow slacks and a flowing white blouse were laid out. She obediently put them on. Her luggage was packed. She had a new Prada purse containing her wallet, ID, and cre*** card, as well as cosmetics, tissues, and other needed items. Carlos came to her suite to take her belongings down to the waiting car.

Before they left Claire’s suite Catherine informed her she would be staying with Mr. Rawlings at his Manhattan apartment. And although she may be tired this morning, do not let it show, she must maintain appearances. Mr. Rawlings would be off to his work as soon as they arrived in the city, she would then be able to rest at the apartment. Claire nodded her understanding.

While Eric drove them to the local private airport, Tony spoke more directly and less compassionately than the night before. “You’ll be at my apartment while I’m working today. Eric will drive you there after he takes my associates and me to our meeting.” Claire smiled and said that was fine. She didn’t have a choice. She knew that, and so did he. “Upon reaching the airport, we will be met by Brent Simmons, the head of my legal team; Sharon Michaels, his associate; and David Field, one of my lead negotiators. They’ll join us on the flight to New York. I’ll introduce you. Brent is already aware of you. Once we board my jet, you’ll sit away from us while we begin our preparations.”

Claire said she understood. “Tony, I don’t want to get in the way. I’m here because you want me to be.”

“Yes.” He was looking at his iPhone, which had just buzzed. “That’s true. It’s my choice, and I want you here. I believe your presence will benefit me.” He became engrossed in his texting.

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Benefit him? Why couldn’t he just say “I want you here”? Her stomach tied in knots as she wondered what Brent Simmons knew about her. Did he know what she did? Did he think she was a companion or an employee or worse? As they rode in the backseat of the Mercedes Benz, Claire decided this was time for a mask. Finding it through all the apprehension surging through her mind was difficult, but she did, and put it on.

Claire didn’t know what to expect from a private jet. On the outside it seemed smaller than she anticipated. Once they climbed the steps, she was pleasantly surprised by the spacious interior. To her left was the door to the ****pit and to her right was an open space with a table and four chairs. Beyond was a sofa along one wall facing three reclining chairs along the other. Everything was secured and contained seat belts like you would expect on a plane. The chairs and some of the walls were luxuriously covered with white leather and accented with wood like trim. There was ad***ional space behind the far wall. Claire guessed that it contained a bathroom, maybe more.

Tony introduced Claire to his associates and motioned for her to take a seat on the sofa near the wall. Everyone was polite and friendly. She went to the sofa as she was told. Tony, Mr. Simmons, Ms. Michaels, and Mr. Fields sat around the oval table. Eric joined them on the plane after loading their luggage into a compartment below. Surprisingly, he sat in the copilot’s seat. His talents suddenly impressed Claire—obviously, the world’s most versatile chauffeur.

Claire watched and listened as Tony and the others discussed the impending deal. She honestly didn’t care about the deal other than its impact on Tony. She liked to watch him work—his expertise, intelligence, and control. He respected the knowledge and wisdom of his associates, asked questions, and listened intently to their responses and opinions. With that said, Claire knew when the time came for decisions the only opinion that mattered would be his.

After they were in the air and the discussion at the table became mundane, Claire thought about napping and remembered Catherine’s advice. To stay awake, she looked in her purse—another treasure hunt. First, she opened her wallet. Staring back at her was her picture from her Georgia driver’s license. She read the identification card and saw her Atlanta address. Compartmentalize. Her picture didn’t look like her. The picture was taken two years earlier and her face had changed: slimmed, tanned, and just changed. Her height, five four, was the same; her weight, one hundred and twenty-five, was closer to actual. That hadn’t been the case four months ago. The listed weight was accurate when she was sixteen and like with everyone else it had inched up through the years; however, now it seemed accurate if not erroneously high. Next, Claire spotted the American Express platinum card with Claire Nichols embossed on the front.

When Tony first gave Claire the card, she didn’t want to use it. She thanked him for the confidence and faith and tried to explain there was nothing she needed. She had all the clothes she could possibly wear. She actually had many she’d never worn. Food came to her three times a day and she had a roof over her head. She had no interest in jewelry; having her grandmother’s necklace was all she wanted. She loved to read, but so far the library contained more than she could hope to read.

Tony wouldn’t accept any of her excuses. He told her to ask him when she wanted to go shopping. She didn’t ask. After a week, he apparently gave up. One evening, over dinner, he proclaimed, “Eric is taking you into Davenport tomorrow to shop.” Claire remembered suddenly feeling ill. She didn’t speak at first and only stared. “Claire, did you hear me?” He knew she did; he wanted verbal confirmation.

“Yes, Tony, I heard you. I thought we discussed this and decided I have no pressing need for anything.”

“I’m pretty sure we discussed it, and I said you’re going—tomorrow.”

“But, don’t you need Eric tomorrow?”

His eyes darkened as his tone slowed, “Are you arguing? You were a confident woman when I met you. You’ve learned your lessons well. You need to get out in the world, and for the record, this conversation is now over, unless you feel it would be beneficial to argue?”

Claire wanted to complain and explain that she worried about the Charles Jacksons of the world; however, she’d made that mistake before. She swallowed. “What time does Eric need me to be ready?”

The trip to Davenport was unnerving. Eric picked Claire up in a black BMW. She sat in the backseat feeling awkward without Tony. Driving away from the house, she told herself Tony was right. She had been a confident woman, and besides, one day she would be leaving here. She also knew the truth. This was a test to determine if she could be trusted out by herself. She’d learned from earlier glitches the best way to pass a test was to avoid it. Tony made it clear—avoiding this was not an option.

Eric took her to the River Walk Shoppes, higher-end boutiques in the Quad Cities. She entered each shop and took her time looking around. At first, her senses were on high alert, afraid of everyone that approached. She soon realized no one paid that much attention to her. The clerks were attentive and she was shown everything and anything she wanted. People didn’t browse these shops if they couldn’t buy.

Claire saw no reporters. No one stared or asked questions. By the time she made it down the street to a small coffee shop she felt better about her outing, and even drank coffee sitting at an outside table. She sipped the aromatic rich brew and watched people as they rushed down the sidewalks. She missed being around people; however, the idea of speaking to anyone frightened her. What if she said something wrong?

By the time Eric returned to pick her up, she found a few books on butterflies and some casual clothes for her busy event-filled days. It wasn’t a lot, but she did what she’d been told to do and honestly enjoyed it.

Tony seemed disappointed that she hadn’t bought more, but also pleased she’d done as he instructed. He then expected her to give him a fashion show of her finds and suggested next time she buy some items he would like too. That meant fashions with much less material.

Once the jet landed the five of them entered a waiting limousine. The four continued to discuss their impending meeting. Claire sat silently listening—trying to go unnoticed. It was 9:20 AM and their meeting was to start at 10:00 AM. Eric rode in the passenger seat next to the driver. In no time they were in the throes of New York City grid-lock traffic. The car traveled in short, accelerated movements.

Claire experienced this traffic from the back of a taxi when she lived with Emily and John and knew it could stifle travel and wreak havoc on schedules. Tony didn’t seem concerned. Their car pulled up to their destination with minutes to spare. The four associates got out and proceeded through the big glass doors. Claire found herself alone in a large limousine. She didn’t know where she was going or how long she would be there. Her life was no longer in her hands, and she was somehow coming to terms with that.

Peering around the marble floored foyer, Claire knew his apartment wasn’t like any she’d seen before. Her anxiety eased with the housekeeper’s warm greeting, “Ms. Claire, welcome. My name is Jan. Let me show you to Mr. Rawlings’s room. We’ll put your belongings in there and show you around.”

Claire thanked Jan and followed her up the ornate staircase which ascended to a railed landing on the second floor. The apartment included a massive sitting room complete with fireplace, a dining room, a kitchen, and an office on the first level. Claire called it the first level, but in actuality it was seventy-six stories from the ground. The sitting and dining rooms had floor to ceiling windows looking out over the city and toward the water. She’d spent many days and nights in New York City but had never seen a view as spectacular as this.

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Tony’s bedroom was large and decorated in dark masculine colors. A large high bed with a leather headboard and complementary leather furniture filled the room. Jan carried Claire’s hanging bag, and two other staff members assisted with the rest of their luggage. Once things were put away Jan asked Claire if she would like some lunch or if she would rather rest. Claire decided a little lunch before a nap would be good.

Tony arrived at the apartment at about 7:00 PM. He wasn’t alone. Brent Simmons was with him. They arrived conversing about something that happened during the day. Their conversation continued into the dining room, where they opened briefcases, laptops, and resumed their debate. Jan asked Mr. Rawlings if he would like dinner. He told her to just bring them something they could eat while working.

Claire hoped for a night out under the New York lights. Instead, she settled for dinner alone in his bedroom and a night with her book. Wearing a black silk nightgown, she fell asleep before Tony ever made it to bed, and he left before she awoke. If the covers on his side weren’t rumpled, she wouldn’t have known he’d been there.

In the morning she found a note next to the bed:

Eric is available to you all day. Have a good day in the city. Be back by 6:00 PM.

Don’t disappoint me.

There was also cash, with a separate note:

For tipping, remember—appearances!

Okay, she thought. I’m stuck in New York. I might as well enjoy myself.

After her shower, Jan served her a wonderful breakfast and promised to notify Claire as soon as Eric returned from taking Mr. Rawlings to his office. By 10:00 AM, Claire sat in the back of the limousine with Eric driving her to some shopping therapy. She decided if Tony wanted her to shop so badly, this definitely was the place to do it. She always enjoyed shopping in New York City, but this would be a new experience. The vastness of the city, along with the quantity of people, gave Claire the feeling of anonymity—something she didn’t have in Davenport. No one would even notice her here. She could do as she pleased.

“To Fifth Avenue and Fifty-first Street, please,” Claire instructed.

Eric didn’t hesitate. Claire decided she’d busy herself with Versace, Prada, Bendel, and Louis Vuitton for at least four or five hours. Eric gave Claire a card with his cell phone number and explained that she needn’t worry about carrying any purchases. Tell the clerk to call him, her driver. He would pick up everything she bought. He dropped her off near East Fifty-First and Madison and promised to pick her up near the Plaza Hotel at East Fifty-Eighth Street at 2:00 PM. At that time, he would be happy to take her to her next destination.

Claire stepped from the car. Her high-heeled sandals hit the concrete and her chiffon sundress blew slightly in the breeze; she felt like a model doing a magazine shoot. It didn’t seem real. She kept telling herself, Play the part. The summer heat radiating in waves off the pavement and the sounds of the city invigorated her as she fought the crowds of people along the sidewalk.

First, she entered Versace. The ornate limestone facade with the large glass doors, and an unlimited amount of money in her purse gave her a rush of adrenaline. It felt different from exercise. It was the strange sensation that she could buy anything and everything she wanted. She did her best to feign the image of someone accustomed to spending. It didn’t take long before she believed it as much as the store’s associates.

She tried very hard not to notice prices as she chose dress possibilities. She liked a cotton pique sheath dress and a gathered bodice sheath dress. They accentuated her trimmer figure. As she looked at herself in the mirror, she judged her image by would Tony like this? She decided he would. According to the associate she also needed shoes. When all was said and done, and she paid for her two outfits, she almost lost her composure. The associate smiled and said, “That will be thirty-six hundred and fifty seven dollars. Would you like to place that on an existing account?”

Claire worked diligently to keep her mask intact, despite the dramatic increase in heart rate, she replied, “No, I’ll pay for it now and my driver will pick it up. Let me give you his number, and he’ll work out the details.” She handed the associate her American Express.

“Thank you, madam, I’ll be glad to take care of that for you.” She rang the transaction. This kind associate definitely needed a tip, appearances.

Claire preceded north, next stop Cartier. She was determined to make it back to the apartment with items to show Tony. She decided on a nice little pair of sunglasses for only five-hundred dollars. She thought about the ten dollar sunglasses she wore all four years of college. Her shopping adventure continued. The crowds of people talking, the cash registers ringing, the smells of exhaust, the sights of tall buildings as she looked up to the sky, all worked together to create the feeling of elation.

By 1:00 PM, Claire was exhausted. She purchased a few dresses, some shoes, a few new lingerie items, and sunglasses. She successfully spent over five thousand. It truly seemed ridiculous, but she was determined to make Tony proud. She didn’t want to shop anymore. She stopped at the Trump Tower, less than two blocks from her pick-up destination, for lunch. She’d been there before and remembered the Trump Café. The people and beauty of the glass caught her attention as she entered the atrium, but her mind focused on food.

In the past four months she hadn’t made one decision about food. Now, she salivated at the idea of ordering anything she wanted. There were even desserts. She took a few minutes wandering around the cases—so many choices. The aroma from the grill caused her to think of hamburgers in the summertime. She could almost taste the foods as she inhaled their delicious scents. She silently debated her options.

Claire found a table near the window and ate her spinach salad, iced tea, and yogurt. It was still her choice but eating healthy made more sense. She ate and watched. New York had always been fun, and even today, by herself, she found it fun. She glanced at her watch, 1:40 PM. She finished her lunch and walked toward the Plaza Hotel. Tony wouldn’t be waiting, but Eric would, and she didn’t want Eric to tell him she was late.

When Eric pulled the car to the curb, Claire was ready; however, she waited for Eric to park, get out, and open her door. She’d learned to perform her part well. Once back on the road, he inquired as to the next destination.

“I believe I’m tired and would like to go back to the apartment. Oh, did you pick up my purchases?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Eric replied, and continued to explain that they were in the trunk. He would have someone take them to Mr. Rawlings’s room immediately upon arriving at the apartment.

Claire sat back, closed her eyes, and let herself be taken back to Tony’s apartment. It wasn’t until she was almost back that it occurred to her—Emily and John were only three hours out of the city. She could get there by train. If she had Eric drop her off near a station, she could get to their house and be back in the span of a day. She used to ride the train all the time. No one would ever know. She couldn’t do it today, but excitement brewed as she began to work out the details in her head for tomorrow.

Napping soundly on his large bed, late in the afternoon, Tony’s voice brought Claire back to reality. “We did it! The deal is complete.”

She pushed the sleepy fog from her mind and tried to concentrate on his words. “That’s great. I’m happy for you.”

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“I believe a celebration is in order!” Smiling at his enthusiasm, Claire began to get out of bed.

“Where are you going?” His intimidating tone narrowed her focus.

She watched his accomplished expression quickly morph into a new menacing gaze. Claire felt a chill, despite the warmth of the blankets. “I thought you wanted to celebrate. I need to dress.”

“Yes, you do, but first, you need to undress.” Tony removed his Brooks Brothers suit jacket and silk tie, allowing them fall to the floor, and unbuttoned his shirt. “Our celebration will begin here.”

Claire hadn’t expected him to return this early and was napping in shorts and a camisole. Her instincts told her the vigor and energy acquired from his successful business dealings would be unleashed here and now. Thankful she’d napped, she obeyed and removed her shorts and top.

Apprehensively, Claire watched as Tony approached. His clothes created a trail from the doorway to near the foot of the bed. Adjusting her eyes to the dim light, she beheld his completely nude body. She’d been groggy when he first entered the room, but something about his demeanor alarmed her, like the warning rumble of thunder indicating an imminent storm. Now, fully awake, her body quivered. Coming toward her, she beheld his wide chest, defined, and covered with dark hair, his trim abdomen, his narrow hips and waist. There was a light trail of hair, leading to where…Claire could plainly see he was ready to celebrate. Everything about his presence said power.

She steadied herself as Tony pushed his body against her petite form. Moving fast and rough, he pulled her into his embrace. Forcibly engaging her lips, she tasted coffee and attempted to slow his actions—trying to control his explosion of energy. It was a matter of momentum. Claire was helpless to slow this force of nature. Her only defense was to move with it. Anticipating his actions, she expected to be lifted onto the bed. Instead, he turned and pushed her to the bed. Her cheek felt the softness of the satin covered, down comforter. His plans were unexpected, and he hadn’t prepared her. She stifled the urge to cry out in pain, as her fingers gripped the cover, forming fists. Dominating, Anthony Rawlings showed no meekness, only total control.

His voracious need was only momentarily satisfied; he instructed Claire to kneel, held her head and dictated her movements until he was ready again. Insatiable, the afternoon went on and on. He took his time. His authoritative tone resumed, as did instructions and directions. Eventually, he led her to the shower. They needed to get ready to go out. The soap, the multiple shower heads—he continued.

Finally, gratified—Tony took shampoo and began to wash Claire’s hair. After ravaging her body, he reverently caressed her chestnut trusses. Suddenly, his movements were tender and gentle. Outwardly, she responded appropriately, but inwardly she burned with loathing. One day she wanted to help him, to be with him, the next he treated her like a whore. It made her furious and her heart ache, but she stopped the tears. He’d already taken too much. She wasn’t giving him those too.

That night, dressed in a sleek black strapless dress with black heels, Claire was escorted by Tony to Daniel, a four-star restaurant in Manhattan, located on the Upper East Side. It was known for its elegant ambiance and delicious French cuisine. En route, Tony reminded Claire about his rules: do as she was told, keep up appearances, and the severity of punishment for public failure. Perhaps he sensed her unspoken revulsion and her overwhelming desire to flee, and he felt the need to reiterate the consequences if she tried.

When they arrived to Daniel, they went to the lounge where Tony ordered ****tails. They sipped drinks while Tony chatted about his amazing rescue of this sensational deal. Claire felt like she was spending the evening with two different men. He could chastise her in one breath and be refined and charming in the next. While talking about his deal he said he didn’t like to talk about money, but today he made more than most people do in an entire lifetime, quoting, “Hell, more than most families do in their lifetimes.”

When the maître d’ informed them their table was ready, they moved to the exquisite dining room. Again, Tony ordered their meal. Claire’s attention was completely centered on him. He required that—maintaining appearances. That evening, Claire discovered Tony spoke French. Since she did not, she didn’t know what was said to the waiter. When the bottle of wine arrived, after sipping on ****tails, Claire tried unsuccessfully to hide her surprise. Tony explained, “This is a special occasion.”

The waiter poured a small amount of wine into a glass and offered it to him. He approved and two glasses were poured.

If the prelude hadn’t been so tempestuous, the dinner would have been more pleasurable. Claire remembered Tony saying he didn’t approve of alcohol because it diminished the senses. Currently, feeling her body, head, and heart ache, she welcomed the diminishing effects. Of course, she didn’t show her uneasiness with the return of the Anthony Rawlings she’d known. She obeyed the rules and remained the perfect companion.

On the way back to the apartment, Eric drove them around Manhattan to enjoy the lights, sights, and sounds. New York City was truly spectacular, and it had been so long since Claire had experienced so many people and so much energy. If Tony weren’t running his hand up her thigh—it would have been more enjoyable.

Tony informed her they would return to Iowa in the morning. As they were about to fall asleep, he asked about shopping. Her body exhausted, her head spinning from the alcohol, she replied, “It was nice…may I please show you the purchases in the morning?”

They both fell asleep.

We shall draw from the heart of suffering itself the means of inspiration and survival.

—Sir Winston Churchill

Chapter Eleven

‡

His alarm sounded, and Mr. Rawlings called for the car. It would be ready to take them to the airport at 6:00 AM. Claire knew she’d rather be back in her suite, waking at 8:00 AM, working out, eating, and being on her own schedule. When she worked at WKPZ, she needed to wake before 3:00 AM every morning, but back then, she went to bed much earlier and most importantly—alone.

A little before 5:00 AM, she sleepily entered the shower. Turning her face to the hot spray, she desperately tried to revive her senses and dull the aches in her body. The water began the process, but the real awakening came as she heard the glass door slide, and saw Tony enter the steamy stall. His only expectation was to get clean; however, the act—the sharing of this personal space non-***ually—was more intimate than Claire anticipated or desired.

Once on the jet, she asked about his associates. Tony explained that Mr. Simmons and Mr. Field stayed behind to complete the contracts, and Ms. Michaels had left on another company jet, yesterday. During the two-and-a-half-hour flight, it was only the two of them in the cabin. Tony busily read his computer screen while Claire watched the clouds under the plane and contemplated the trip—disappointing and short. She thought pensively about her missed opportunity to contact Emily and John. She hadn’t spoken to anyone from her past for almost four months. Did anyone wonder what happened to her? Were they concerned she’d dropped off the earth? But then she thought about Tony. He’d taken her out and introduced her to the world. She couldn’t be a missing person or the police would have gotten involved. She wasn’t sure how this publicity thing worked. Maybe Emily knew she was seen out with Mr. Anthony Rawlings. Claire berated herself. She’d worried more about not disappointing Tony than thinking to contact her sister.

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Suddenly, Tony broke the silence. The domineering man from the night before was gone. His tone was friendly and inquisitive, “Now, tell me about your shopping trip.”

Claire did her best to respond with the appropriate tone and inflection, “It was amazing. New York is such a bustling city. I wasn’t worried about people, or should I say reporters, approaching me.”

“That concerns you?”

“Yes—after that scene at the benefit, I’m terrified someone will approach me. I know how much appearance and privacy means to you.”

Satisfied, Tony smiled smugly. “Very well, that’s interesting. Go on, what did you buy?”

“Well, first I went to Versace and found a couple of dresses and some shoes. I think you will like them. I made my way along Fifth Avenue and bought some sunglasses. Oh”—she pulled the glasses out and put them on—“they’re here in my purse.”

*

Tony smiled and removed them from her green eyes. He liked her eyes and didn’t want them covered.

Claire continued chattily, “I also found some lingerie”—she smiled coyly—“which I believe you’ll like.”

His eyes were soft, and he was fully focused. Her excitement amused him. “It sounds like you did well. Do you mind telling me how much you spent?”

Claire’s eyes dropped to the floor. Tony gently lifted her chin to resume eye contact. Her emerald irises shimmered as she flashed a smile and spoke, “About five thousand.”

He laughed.

*

His reaction surprised her. She waited to see if it was a laugh—leading to something else, but no—it was just a laugh. Finally, he responded, “Good job, Claire. You may get the hang of this yet. I look forward to my private fashion show tonight when I return to the house.”

It bothered Claire that he could treat her in such a demeaning manner in the bedroom or wherever he chose and then turn around and act like nothing happened. She needed to work on compartmentalizing the *** away from the rest of her life—a much more difficult task than it sounded.

Once they arrived back to Iowa, they entered Tony’s waiting car and Eric drove them back to the house. Tony needed to get a few things before heading into the office in Iowa City. He would be leaving tomorrow for ten days in Europe, and he had some loose ends which required his immediate attention.

After the car entered the gates to the estate, they took the long winding drive approaching the mansion. Claire usually saw the house from the back. Although, she rarely left the property, when she did, it was usually at night. Now seeing it in daylight, the beautiful combination of river stone, limestone, and brick, combined with the Romanesque style architecture, gave her a new appreciation. Tony had told her he’d built the house about fifteen years ago, but it looked older. It didn’t look outdated or antiquated. It looked as if it had been designed for an earlier time. Claire couldn’t help but ask, “Tony, you said you built your house about fifteen years ago?”

“Yes,” he answered as Eric came around the front drive. “Why do you ask?”

“I’m not used to seeing it from the front. It’s beautiful!” He thanked her. She continued, “But, it looks older than fifteen years to me—the style I mean.”

“I patterned it after my family’s home from when I was a child.”

Claire knew he’d lost his parents and didn’t want to stir up bad memories, but her curiosity got the best of her. “I thought you built your fortune from nothing. How did your parents have a house like this?” They were now getting out of the car.

“It was my grandfather’s, not my parents’. My father was weak; however, my grandfather’s house and money were all lost over twenty-five years ago. My grandfather trusted the wrong people.”

Claire wasn’t sure what that wealth of information meant. Catherine told her that Mr. Rawlings didn’t allow many people to get close. She was sure this family history had something to do with that. As they walked to his office she tried for a little more information. “It truly is amazing. Did you pattern the inside after it, as well?”

“Mostly, I even found and purchased some of the original artwork and antiques; however, I wanted my home equipped with all the modern conveniences and security equipment. Every inch of this house is under constant surveillance. I won’t make the same mistake my grandfather made.”

Claire considered what he was saying; he meant every inch of the perimeter. He was stopping someone from getting in who wasn’t supposed to be there.

Standing behind his desk, punching some buttons on his computer and rummaging through papers, Tony continued, “Haven’t you ever wondered how the staff knows exactly when to enter your suite?”

Claire’s knees wobbled, and she needed to sit down. “You mean my suite is under surveillance? Like there are cameras?”

Tony looked up from the papers and met Claire’s eyes. Seeing the repugnance he smiled. His words slowed, adding malice, “Yes, of course. It’s all video recorded and saved.” Claire sat on the nearest chair. Suddenly, making the most of her newfound discomfort, he added, “Perhaps we could have a premier viewing, critique, and work on revisions.”

She detested his existence. “Tony, please tell me you’re joking, some sort of sick joke.”

His vile smirk gave spark to his darkening eyes. “But, my dear Claire, I am not. Now the staff doesn’t have access to the view of your bed—only I have that. They do have view of the sitting area and the doorways to and from your dressing room and bath. That’s how they’ve been able to come and go without you seeing them.”

“But why? Why would you do that? Why would you keep it?”

Tony picked up his needed papers and a flash drive and moved to leave his office. “Because I can—I can watch and decide what I like and what I believe can be improved. You’ll understand after you get a chance to view it. Maybe tonight, but now I must be going.” He started to walk toward the hall doors.

Thinking her legs couldn’t support her weight; Claire stayed seated. The thought of him watching them—of her watching him with her—made her physically ill. She seriously believed if she stood she wouldn’t be able to control the revolt currently occurring in her stomach.

Tony reiterated, “It’s time to exit my office.” He watched as she sat motionless and heartlessly added, “And in case you were wondering—yes—this room, too, is under surveillance—except for my desk. I do have a great view of the sofa and this open area.” He nastily grinned and gestured to the setting of one of her worse nightmares. Something she’d pushed away. Now, she knew he had it on video and watched it! “Claire, I need to go. Get out of the chair, now.”

Absently, she stood, thinking only about keeping her breakfast down. Claire tried desperately to keep all other thoughts out of her mind as she left his office. Before she knew it, she was back in her suite. Her head spun. She wanted to flop on the sofa and stop the thoughts bombarding her consciousness, but he could see her. Was there anywhere he couldn’t see her?

That night they dined on the back patio. It was shaded and the night air felt warm. The yard looked picture perfect. Even with the recent heat wave which had been accompanied by a drought, his lawn was lush and green thanks to the marvels of a sprinkling system and ground’s crew. Tony was doing what she despised, talking about his trip to Europe, the time in New York, anything except the cameras and videos.

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Claire couldn’t understand how he could behave one way, say something, and then act as if it never happened. She, however, was having difficulty thinking of anything else. Her appetite gone, she barely ate any of her dinner.

Once they were done dining, Tony led Claire to the movie-theater. It was her retreat—a place to escape and watch singing and dancing. Tonight, Tony didn’t intend to watch a musical. He programmed the video system and entered a passcode. Suddenly, the screen was full of dates and locations, such as 2010, May 05, S.E. suite. He had the ability to scroll to different dates and different locations. It wasn’t just her room. There were locations like: garages, kitchen, foyer, stairs, theater, pool, S.E. 2 floor hall, S.E. 1 floor hall, etc.

In some humiliating form of torture, he chose: 2010 March 20, S.E Suite, and then programmed the time. He scrolled up and the time decreased, 9, 8, 7. He returned to approximately 8:00 AM and hit enter. There on the movie screen, bigger than life, was Claire’s suite. She was wearing a white robe and lay curled up on the floor near the hall door. Claire didn’t need to watch, she knew too well what would happen. She also knew the Claire on the screen was covered in bruises, her hair was a mess, and she could see the demolition of the room. Now she heard a beep and the door opened. Claire jumped, also hearing the sound and seeing Tony enter. “Good morning, Claire.” Claire looked at Tony.

“Good morning, Anthony. I want you to know, I’ve decided to go home. I’ll be leaving here today.”

Tony then spoke, his black eyes shining as he smiled, “Do you not like your accommodations?” His smile widened. “I don’t believe you’ll be leaving so soon. We have a legally binding agreement”—Tony took a bar napkin from his suit pocket—“dated and signed by both of us.”

Claire didn’t want to watch anymore. “Please, Tony. I don’t want to see this.” She covered her eyes.

Tony physically removed her hands from her eyes. “I promised a viewing. I said you will watch—and you will watch.”

The video had progressed in real time. Claire looked up in time to hear her own voice obviously filled with alarm.

“It is not the end of this discussion. This is ludicrous. An agreement doesn’t give you the right to rape me! I’m leaving.”

Knowing what was to come. Claire closed her eyes as she heard Tony’s hand contact the screen Claire’s left cheek.

Unknowingly, her own fingers drift toward her left cheek. Opening her eyes she saw herself fly across the floor, and Tony walk over to that Claire. She closed her eyes again, hearing the voice on the screen with the cruel tone, “Perhaps in time your memory will improve. It seems to be an issue. Let me remind you again, rule number one is that you do as you are told. If I say a discussion is over, it is over, and this written agreement which states whatever is pleasing to me, means consensual, not rape.”

The real Claire still had her eyes shut. She knew the Tony on the screen was straightening his jacket. She could hear him continue in a disturbing, authoritative voice, “I have decided that it would be better if you did not leave your suite for a while. Don’t worry, we have plenty of time, 215 thousand dollar—worth of time” She opened her eyes again to see the screen Tony step on broken crystal and speak again in a tone that made the real Claire shiver, “I’ll tell the staff that you may have your breakfast after you clean up this crystal.” Tony left Claire’s room.

“Please stop the video!” Claire cried. She couldn’t help it. “Please, I can’t watch anymore.”

Relishing Claire’s suffering, Tony said, “Oh, there’re so many videos. We can watch for hours.” He hit some buttons and went back to the menu. “For example”—the screen read: March 19, 2010—“how do you suppose your suite got into that con***ion? I’m sure we could find out.”

“Please!” she pleaded. Her head hurt and stomach twisted in knots. She couldn’t stand this. She tried desperately to make it stop. “Please…you’re leaving tomorrow. Wouldn’t you rather spend tonight making movies instead of watching?”

Her eyes were red and puffy and her nose ran from crying.

Tony smirked at her desperation. His tone dripped with ruthlessness, “Maybe we should watch some more—find out where you need improvement.”

“I’ll do anything you say—anything you want me to do differently—just tell me. Just please don’t make me watch.” Claire was now on the floor in front of Tony, kneeling, crying. She hated that she’d been reduced to begging, but these videos ruined her whole compartmentalization. How could she keep these awful memories hidden if she was forced to watch them?

His dark eyes pierced her soul. His voice was cold as ice, “You will do whatever I say—even if it is to watch—but…”—he hesitated to add emphasis—” I don’t want to spend my last night, for over a week, here with you in this con***ion.” He stood, causing her to fall back onto the floor. “I’ll be in your suite in a few minutes.”

Claire stood.

Tony continued, “Go up and get ready. Wash your face! You look like hell, and as far as attire…I’m thinking some new lingerie.”

When she started to leave the theater, Tony gripped her arm. She stopped, met his gaze, and listened to his steely tone, “Claire, what do you say?”

She looked at him as they stood silently for a moment, and Claire’s confused mind spun. She couldn’t fathom what he wanted. When it hit her, fire ignited in her moist eyes. She swallowed her protest and managed to articulate, “Thank you, Tony.”

Loosening his grip he responded, “You may demonstrate your gratitude when I get upstairs.”

Claire continued to stand—afraid to move. Her mind was too garbled. She didn’t know what to do or say—all she could do was pray that she would never see another of those videos. As if sensing her bewilderment, Tony remained in control of her motion. “You may go to your suite now.”

It was after sunrise when Claire felt Tony get out of her bed. She listened as he picked up his clothes, and she knew he was dressing. Next, she heard him open a drawer and rifle through it. She opened her eyes and in the dim light saw him writing a note. When he turned to look at her, she closed her eyes and feigned sleep. Doing her best to keep her breathing steady, she reminded herself, he wouldn’t be back for over a week.

At that moment in time, she detested everything about Anthony Rawlings.

Lust and greed are more gullible than innocence.

—Mason Cooley

Chapter Twelve

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Nathaniel didn’t mind the commute between New York and New Jersey, especially when he drove the winding drive toward his home. Each time the beautiful combination of river stone, limestone, and brick came into view, he momentarily remembered the two-room apartment he’d shared with his wife. For a young soldier recently home from fighting the Japs, it was ample. Being a soldier and a veteran were the only attributes Sharron’s family saw in him. They were the only reasons they allowed their daughter to marry Nathaniel Rawls.

Today, as he stepped into the marble entry, he wished her high-and-mighty father could see his daughter now. Oh yes, Nathaniel Rawls did make something out of himself, and now, with Clawson’s ideas, there was so much more to be made. If his father-in-law were still alive he would gladly shove this up his—