[English] Consequences

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“Good evening, Nathaniel.” Sharron’s greeting came from the archway to the sitting room. She had his bourbon waiting. Dinner would be precisely at 7:00 PM. Everyone knew that. Perhaps it was the military training, but punctuality was never questioned. “How was your day?”

“It’s better now.” He took the glass she handed to him and kissed his wife’s cheek. The sparkle of his wife’s eyes reflected the flames from the large fireplace. “How was your day, my love?”

Sharron chatted about the pressing concerns regarding the household staff, while Nathaniel thought about Rawls Corp. Of course, he responded and acknowledged her concerns, but his mind swirled with Clawson’s ideas. Just before 7:00 PM they heard Samuel and Amanda descending the grand stairs. They all congregated in the dining room.

He may think about work, but dinner was not the time to discuss it. Even though Nathaniel and Samuel had spent the day together debating ideas, Nathaniel and his son spent dinner talking with their wives, discussing weather, politics, sports, movies, etc…

A man’s home was his castle and Nathaniel loved the castle his queen and family were able to enjoy.

Look deep into nature, and then you will understand everything better.

—Albert Einstein

Chapter Thirteen

‡

Claire waited about ten minutes after hearing the door to her suite shut. During that time, she lay still, barely breathing, and pretending to sleep. She didn’t want to face him—talk to him—or even see him. Though appearing peacefully asleep, her mind was a whirlwind of questions: How long until I’m sure he won’t come back? Can he see me? Is he watching? Oh God! What did he write?

Finally, her curiosity won. She got out of bed and started to walk to the table to read his note. Suddenly, the thought hit her like a physical strike—she remembered the cameras and the staff. Reaching for her robe from the floor, she secured it around her nude body. Sitting on the table where he’d left it, was his note:

I believe we have a blockbuster on our hands. It’s hard to say, until we thoroughly review the footage I plan to return a week from Wednesday. Eric is available if you want to visit the Quad Cities. I trust last night’s film reminded you of my rules. Don’t disappoint me.

Never in her life had she remembered being so overwhelmed with emotion. Her entire being emitted loathing, directed completely and totally toward one man—Anthony Rawlings. She hated him, his sadistic ploys, and nasty reminders. Claire picked up the note, crumbled it into a ball, and threw it against the wall. It created significantly less mess than the vase of flowers had five months earlier.

Her mind tried desperately to compartmentalize the videos. She wanted to put them away—someplace she would never find them. Think of something else, she told herself—it was too difficult. She climbed back into bed and smelled his aftershave. Turning over the pillow, the cool side smelled fresh. That, with the realization he wouldn’t return until a week from Wednesday, gave her a sliver of peace. She tried to concentrate. What day is it now? Sunday. She felt her muscles relax. It was Sunday, his day to be home…but he was gone. Her eyes closed as tears began to slip onto her pillow. She drifted away to another place.

“Ms. Claire? Ms. Claire, you must wake.”

Claire tried to focus. She’d been somewhere in a dream. Now hearing Catherine’s voice, she rolled over and saw her standing at the edge of her bed.

“Catherine, what are you doing?”

“Ms. Claire, it’s after 1:00 PM. You need to wake and eat. You’ve already missed breakfast and now lunch. I’m worried about you.” Claire saw Catherine’s concerned expression and heard her fretful tone.

From the moment Tony left the room and Claire read the note, she’d been crying, even in her sleep. Now, opening her puffy eye lids caused pain which added to the ache in her body, head, and heart. She’d never felt more alone and isolated than she did. “Thank you, Catherine, for your concern, but I believe I’ll stay in bed today. I’m not feeling well.” She tried to sound strong, but with the words came more tears. The salt stung her already swollen eyes. Claire wanted to concentrate on Catherine, but her mind wouldn’t stop thinking of Tony and what he’d done. Not wanting Catherine to see her in this con***ion, Claire rolled her face into her pillow, making her words muffled, “Please leave me alone.”

Catherine didn’t leave. Instead, she sat on the edge of Claire’s bed and tenderly stroked Claire’s hair as her head moved with the sobs. Catherine remained silent and comforted her until the sobs subsided and Claire caught her breath. “Ms. Claire, you’ll feel better if you shower and eat. Please let me help you.” Catherine’s concern and affection reminded Claire of her mother or grandmother; however, she knew if one of them were present, they’d tell her to run—not shower.

Claire didn’t want to eat, shower, or even get out of bed. Her only desire was to be out of his house. At that moment, she didn’t care if it was by car or death—she just wanted out. The feeling of helplessness sat heavily on her chest. She had tried *****rvive this ordeal. She had even convinced herself she could handle whatever he sent her way. This new situation was too much. He broke her. Since March she maintained her spirit, despite the loss of her body. Yesterday, he took that too. She turned to look Catherine in the eye and asked, “How have you been able to work for him all this time?”

Catherine stopped stroking Claire’s hair and gently took her hand. “Mr. Rawlings is a good man, Ms. Claire. He truly is.”

Claire shook her head as the tears and sobs resumed. “No! No, he isn’t! I’ve never met a more sadistic, cruel, and bad man.” She closed her eyes, enduring the sting of her tears, the pounding in her head, and taste of her runny nose.

Catherine handed Claire a tissue. “Mr. Rawlings hides his feelings with certain behaviors. He’s afraid to face his own emotions, and he uses this dark persona as a cover. It’s not who he truly is. I’ve known him a long time.”

Claire’s words came between whimpers. “Catherine, I can’t.” “I can’t get up.” “I can’t face the staff.” “They all know.” “They’ve all seen me…seen him…I just can’t.”

“No, Ms. Claire, only I have access to view the inside of your room.” Claire pulled her hand away and rolled from her gaze. Catherine reached out to lightly touch her shoulder. “I only use that access to know when to send the staff inside or to check on your safety.” Claire continued to face away from Catherine. “And now, I’m concerned about you. Ms. Claire, please let me help you. It’s a beautiful day outside.” Claire didn’t move. “Would you like your lunch in here or downstairs?”

Claire shook her head. “I don’t want lunch. Thank you for your concern, but I’m too…too…” She turned to face Catherine. “I don’t know what I am!” Her voice trailed away, “I don’t even know who I am…anymore.”

“Ms. Claire, you’re a beautiful, strong woman. That’s what Mr. Rawlings finds so attractive. He’s astounded by your strength and resilience.”

“That isn’t true! He hates strength in anyone but himself. He has to have total control.” Claire replayed scenes from the past that caused her body to shudder.

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“Miss, you’re partially right, Mr. Rawlings doesn’t want to let anyone else have power over him. Therefore, if he admits he has feelings toward you, he gives up control, and if I may—that scares him.”

Claire really didn’t think that anything scared Anthony Rawlings. “I don’t want his feelings. I want out! I want to go to Atlanta and forget I was ever here”—her voice steadied—“I promise—I won’t tell any of his secrets. I just want to go home.” Tears flowed with increased intensity. Her next question was barely audible, “Do you think he’ll ever let me go?”

Catherine looked into her eyes. “Mr. Rawlings is a man of his word. If he said he’ll release you when your debt is paid, then he will.” The obvious question was when would that be? “Now after you shower, would you like your lunch in here or downstairs?”

Claire began to get out of the bed as Catherine helped with her robe. “I’ll shower, but I’m really not hungry.”

“It’s sunny and beautiful outside; the sun will make you feel better. I’ll have your lunch brought to the pool.” Catherine started for the door, but stopped, and added, “Unless, you need my assistance?”

“No, thank you, I’ll be all right. I’ll be down to the pool in a little while.”

Claire slowly walked into the bathroom, turned the shower on as hot as possible, stood under the stream, and let the flow hit her face and skin. It didn’t stop her head from aching, but it washed away the scent of him. As the steam built and her skin turned red, she found herself sitting on the bench, liquid needles hitting her hair, and tears flowing.

She couldn’t be sure how long she sat in that position, but the temperature of the water began to cool by the time she snapped back to reality. Drying her skin, she noticed new bruises—both of her hip bones and her left forearm were red and tender to the touch. As she placed her sunscreen, she found some more bruises on her legs. Momentarily, she considered the need to camouflage them while at the pool, then she realized, why? Maybe the staff didn’t have access to the videos of her bedroom, but what about the pool, his office, and any other place he chose to require her services?

She combed her wet hair, put on a bikini, a beach cover, flip-flops, and found her new sunglasses. Her eyes looked scary in the mirror. The sunglasses would definitely help. On her way to the pool she stopped in the library and grabbed an older magazine, People. Some light nonsense reading to help her mind stray.

As soon as she stepped outside of the house, Claire realized Catherine was right about the weather—lower humi***y with bright sunshine. When she reached the pool, Cindy brought a tray with her lunch: a turkey sandwich, mixed fresh fruit, and an iced tea, and asked if Claire needed anything else.

“No, Cindy, I’m fine. Thank you for lunch.” The sound of defeat thickly flowed through her voice. The sight of the food made her ill. It reminded her of dining—dining of Tony—Tony of his rules, instructions, and video surveillance. She began to shove the tray off the table but stopped. Someone would need to clean it up. That seemed unnecessary. Claire picked up the glass of iced tea and walked toward a chaise lounge.

Remembering scenes on that lounge chair, she chose another.

The sun felt wonderful on her skin and the tea tasted refreshing. Her head still ached and eyes hurt. She suddenly wished she’d asked Cindy for some headache medicine. Thumbing through the magazine she looked at pictures of smiling, pretty celebrities. She read an article about a little girl saved by her dog—sweet.

Then she read the latest gossip—who was with whom and who was splitting from whom. It was then she saw the picture, in a section called Star Tracks. It was her! The photo showed her and Tony sitting in the private box at the symphony, her smiling at him, and him holding her hand. It contained the title and caption:

Mystery Beauty?

Anthony Rawlings, forty-five, confirmed bachelor, billionaire and red-hot ***y, has been seen at numerous events in the last month with this beautiful woman.

Sources say her name is Claire Nichols, but who is she? Mr. Rawlings’s publicist would not comment regarding speculation that there could be someone special in his life.

Claire stared at the photo in disbelief. Tony was forty-five, really? And who cared that she was at the symphony? Well other than her, since it was her first time allowed out of the house in two over months. Has Emily seen this? What about her friends in Atlanta?

The stupid magazine was supposed to take her mind off everything, not make it public. Claire flipped the magazine over. It was dated June 14. Today was Sunday, but what was the date? It was August, August 8, and Tony won’t return until the eighteenth. Thinking of it that way made it seemed even longer. She smiled, dropped the magazine on the ground, and closed her eyes. The clock by the pool house read 3:15 PM when Catherine woke her again.

“I brought you something special, Ms. Claire.” Claire opened her eyes to see Catherine holding a tall glass containing something resembling a smoothie. “It’s my secret recipe: banana, strawberry, and yogurt.”

Claire appreciated Catherine’s persistence and took the drink. Her concoction tasted sweet and felt cool in her throat as she swallowed. The nutritional ingredients provided her body with the sustenance it needed. While she drank, Catherine pulled up a chair and chatted. Claire knew she was being watched, not by a depraved voyeur, but by a friend. It was a simple act of compassion and concern. Catherine didn’t talk about anything that happened, she just talked. Once Claire finished, Catherine left with the glass.

Closing her eyes, Claire recognized a new sense of emptiness and relief. Four months of despair and misery had been washed away through gallons of tears. She remembered her grandmother’s saying—sometimes we all need a good cry. To that end, Grandma would read a sad book or watch a sad movie—Claire watched the movie.

Although the sun still shimmered on high, it began to move toward the front of the house, casting shadows on the pool and deck. Claire decided to go back upstairs, but realized she had no privacy in her suite.

At that moment, she noticed the trees. Her mind worked slowly; it had been through quite an ordeal in the past twenty-four hours. Staring at the green leaves and thick forest, she saw freedom. Not freedom to Atlanta or completely away from Tony, but freedom from cameras, instructions, rules, and freedom to relax. The realization energized Claire like nothing else had all day. Tomorrow, she was heading into the woods.

Monday morning Claire woke with a start. She’d been dreaming, but she couldn’t remember about what. She just knew her heart pounded, she gasped for breath, and she felt like she was suffocating. As her mind cleared and she looked around her suite, she saw reality. She was alone, the night had been peaceful, and today was a new day. She quickly showered and dressed for her exploration. When she stepped from the closet/ dressing room, because she vowed to never be unclothed in her main room again, her door closed.

“Wait please,” she shouted toward the door.

“I’m sorry, miss, I should have been faster.”

“Oh no, Cindy, you’re fine. I just need a favor.”

“Anything, what can I do for you?” Claire explained she planned a day trip into the woods. She needed a packed lunch and some water bottles. Cindy listened intently and promised to help.

Claire sat down to her breakfast. It wouldn’t take much for Claire’s appetite to disappear, just a few thoughts of reality. So, she chose not to do that…she’d get those thoughts into that compartment no matter what. Instead, as she ate and thought about her impending adventure—about hiking boots and bug spray.

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There was a knock on her door. Claire called for the person to come in.

Catherine’s expression matched the concern in her voice, “Ms. Claire, could you please explain to me what Cindy is asking?”

Claire told Catherine about her plans to explore, how she didn’t want to return for lunch, and she knew Catherine wouldn’t want her to skip a meal. Therefore, she would need a packed lunch and some water bottles.

Catherine seemed apprehensive. “I’m sorry, but what if you didn’t come back?”

Although that sounded wonderful, Claire was surprised by Catherine’s concern. “Catherine, I have no intention of that. First, I wouldn’t do that to you. I can only imagine Mr. Rawlings’s reaction if I didn’t return, and second, his reaction. I can truthfully say—if I left—I’d be looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life”—which, she didn’t say audibly, she believed deep in her soul, might not be very long—“I just want to explore and be outside, away from everything. Mr. Rawlings has given me permission to go into the woods. I’ve done it before. I just want to be out longer, without concern for curfews. Besides, we both know this conversation is being recorded. I promise to return. If I don’t, he’ll see I lied. You just believed me.” Claire reached for Catherine’s hand. “I promise I’ll be back.”

There was a spark in Claire’s green eyes—the same eyes which, only yesterday, were red, swollen, and lifeless—Catherine told Claire she would have her lunch and water packed in a few minutes, but asked that she be back by 6:00 PM for dinner. Claire promised she would. As soon as Catherine left the room, Claire went to the dressing table and found her watch. She didn’t want to disappoint her.

That morning, Claire abandoned her strategy of dissecting the woods. She remembered the large clearing with the flowers and headed in that direction. In the past, she only went as far as the clearing, today she planned to go beyond it. She found the clearing right where she thought it would be. The heat of the summer transformed the green grass into long brown straw, only the weeds were green. Claire didn’t mind, the weeds had pretty, colorful flowers. Unlike Tony’s flowers, which were sentenced to his yard, gardens, or clay pots, these flowers grew free wherever they wanted. Furthermore, weeds were survivors. When all else died, the weeds remained. Yes, Claire liked weeds.

She glanced at her watch. She’d reached the clearing by 10:00 AM.

When she left the house there was a slight chill, so she brought a sweatshirt. With steadily increasing temperatures, now it’s only purpose was to sit upon. She laid it out in the middle of the clearing and sat. A faint breeze blew her hair and caused the leaves of the trees to rustle. Even though it was only the beginning of August, due to the recent dryness, the leaves were beginning to change.

That bothered her. She moved—or was brought—to Iowa in March. At that time, the leaves hadn’t formed, and now they were beginning to change. Time slipped away from her, and she couldn’t hold on. It made her think of a soap opera her mother used to watch. The opening said something like, “Sands through the hour glass…”

She laid her head on the hard ground and gazed at the open sky. There were a few white fluffy clouds. The expanse of the sky glowed blue and clear. The longer she lay immobile, the more she blended into the surroundings. First, she noticed the butterflies which fluttered just above the grass. Then, she saw the chipmunks. One would run around a tree, the next would run up the tree, chasing and being chased. Eventually, she sat up, opened one of her water bottles, and continued to sit and contemplate.

Once she stepped through the trees, leaving the confines of Tony’s backyard, Claire believed she escaped the range of his top-notch security. It felt like being released from prison. Even the air smelled sweeter as she inhaled and relaxed. She smiled at the irony; she definitely felt more secure without security.

Claire didn’t look at her watch, enjoying her freedom. After much consideration, she decided to head west—northwest. There was no reason for that direction—more of a yearning—but it was solely hers, so she did it. She walked and walked. Close to the earth, she experienced a coolness that comes only from the shade of very tall trees. When she looked up, the trees reminded her of a kaleidoscope. The blue sky radiated beyond the ever-changing design of leaves. Since she hadn’t checked the time when she left the clearing, she didn’t know how long she’d walked when she reached the shore.

The lake wasn’t big, but then again it wasn’t small. She could see the other end, a distance away. Nothing but nature surrounded the water in every direction. Looking down as she stood on the shore, her boots stood upon thousands of small smooth pebbles. Suddenly, she wondered if she could skip one. Remembering from childhood, she knew it needed to be smooth. It took her three tries, but she did it. It skipped four times, each hit going a little deeper, creating a slightly larger ring upon the water. The rings grew until they faded into the waves of the lake. For the first time in days…she felt hungry.

Catherine never disappointed when it came to food. Claire found a sandwich—turkey or chicken—she would soon find out—fruit in a small sealed cup—and some carrots. She sat at the water’s edge, broke off some of her bread and threw it in the water. The crumbs floated, rising and falling with the water. Suddenly, each crumb became surrounded by four or five minnows. They jumped and nibbled. Once they ate all the bread, Claire broke off more and fed them again. This time, more minnows came to the feast.

The sounds of the lake exemplified peace. Claire closed her eyes and lost herself in the rhythm. Small waves lapped the earth making a consistent beat, swoosh, swoosh, swoosh. The leaves rustled, creating a gentle on again, off again reverberation. The sun moved steadily toward the other end of the lake. Claire’s new sunglasses were a smart accessory for her adventure. It wasn’t just the sun, but its reflection off the water, that sparkled and shined, as prisms of light and color danced off the waves. She could sit and watch for hours. Occasionally, there would be a splash, and Claire would see the telltale rings left behind from a fish that jumped out of the lake only to go back down.

Just before Claire decided to check her watch, she saw—about one hundred yards down the shore—a doe and a fawn. They cautiously approached the lake’s edge. The doe kept a watchful eye on the surroundings while the fawn concentrated on drinking the cool clear water. She didn’t want to move or disturb them, but the sun continued to lean west.

With a heavy heart, she looked at her watch. It was 4:30 PM. It took forty-five minutes to get from the clearing to the house, but she didn’t know how long it took to get from the lake to the clearing. Tony wouldn’t be home, but Catherine had been so kind and supportive. She didn’t want to disappoint her either.

Slowly, she stood, having no idea how long she’d been sitting on the shore. Her muscles ached. She wondered if the cause could be sitting on the smooth pebbles or perhaps the activities of Friday and Saturday night. When those memories entered her mind, she felt her stomach knot. Eight more days—she knew without a doubt were they would be spent.

Survival is not so much about the body, but rather it is about the triumph of the human spirit.

—Danita Vance

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Chapter Fourteen

‡

Wednesday arrived sooner than Claire hoped. Since the discovery of her lake oasis, she spent every day there and returned to the house by 6:00 PM, as promised. Truly, the first night was close. She even needed to run part of the way, but she made it. Now, she knew the way and knew each direction took an hour and forty-five minutes to walk.

As the week progressed, Claire took more supplies: a blanket, a book, and her lunch with water to drink. She even started wearing her bathing suit under her shorts so she could sunbathe on the shore. The bathing suit was a lot like underwear. This rebellious act brought a smile to her face.

Nearing the lake, she began to recognize the sights, sounds, and scents—a clean fresh aroma penetrating deep into her lungs. As the days passed, she soaked in the serenity of this secret haven and her strength and resolve returned. When Tony left for Europe, she’d felt as low as she had felt since her arrival—actually—in her entire life. She wanted out and would have been willing to die to accomplish that goal—if only the means had been present.

Now, she was thankful that they weren’t. When he returned, he’d be the same, but she would be different. He hurt her—not just physically—but also emotionally—down to her core. Since her arrival, he humiliated her routinely and seemed to enjoy humiliating her. Forcing her to view herself in those situations was agony. Previously, she tried to put away the memories—to create a separation between her daily life and her daily duties. To some extent, she’d been successful. This compartmentalization facilitated her survival. His appalling videos documenting his brutal treatment and merciless instructions exposed her—to herself. It broke her.

The lake, nature, sunshine, and freedom, rejuvenated her. She felt like the Six-Million Dollar Man—stronger, faster, and better. She would gain sustenance and strength from the memories of the crystal waves shining and flashing in the sunlight. He could say, do, or make her do anything, anywhere, and her mind would be hearing the leaves rustle, birds sing, and waves lap the shore. She knew it wouldn’t be easy, but she also knew the routine. There would be breaks when he needed to travel and hopefully be gone—faraway for long periods of time. She would live for those breaks, until the time came when her debt was paid and she’d be the one to leave.

It didn’t surprise Claire that Catherine didn’t know the time of his arrival. It was part of his game—a test to learn if she’d read his note—if she’d be prepared. Claire knew what she needed to do. When he arrived she planned to be ready, and she was.

Wednesday afternoon, Claire ate lunch in her suite and sat on the sofa reading a book, a crime novel—except it was funny—the fifth in a series. She didn’t know for sure how many there were—but she enjoyed reading them. Since she didn’t know when he would arrive, she didn’t want to risk being away from her suite. Claire painstakingly chose her attire: white capris, a black and white top which accentuated her figure, and black sandals with a shorter heel. Since March, her hair had lightened and grown quite long. She styled it half up and half down, with the ends curled, and her make-up was flawless. If he didn’t show up until later, she had another outfit prepared. Claire planned to meet him head-on. The miserable wretched woman he left was gone.

The door opened without warning. Claire’s heart skipped a beat, but she controlled her breathing, and remained still. She appeared relaxed as she looked up from her book. Tony walked in and greeted her, “Good afternoon, Claire.”

Slowly, she placed her bookmark in her book, laid the book on the end table, and stood. Her smile radiated as pleasant a welcome as she could muster. Her mask was not only on—but polished. “Good afternoon, Anthony”—their eyes met—“It’s nice to have you home. How was your trip?”

She didn’t walk toward him, but stood straight, tall, and defiant. He stepped forward. As their proximity decreased, he watched for her reaction. With their bodies nearly touching he looked down into her eyes. She stood her ground, smiling, waiting for his reply. She knew asking for a verbal answer to her question wasn’t a good idea, so she remained silent and maintained eye contact.

“My trip was long. I’m pleased with your greeting. Does this mean your temper tantrum, from before my trip, has reached its conclusion?”

She could smell his cologne and feared if she inhaled too deeply, their chests would touch. “Yes, I believe it has. I apologize for my behavior. It was childish and unnecessary.”

*

He grinned, trying to decipher if her words were sincere or if she was playing him. His tone and words tried to enlist her motivation. “As I recall, a great deal of your behavior was far from childish”—he paused—no reaction—“but my memory could be failing me, it has been a long trip. I know how we could find out”—another pause—no reaction—“or review?”

Claire didn’t react. She didn’t take his bait. Instead, she responded, “You’re right, it was very adult. I’d be glad to do whatever it is you tell me to do again. I believe I have a debt to repay; my goal is to make that happen sooner rather than later. Fulfilling my contract is the means to that end.”

He pulled her against him and looked down into her eyes. He saw a fire, one which ten days ago had been dowsed with tears. She smiled, said all the right things, but her eyes were fighting. He bent down and kissed her. It started slowly, but soon became hard and forceful. She hesitated for only a split second and responded with equal force. Tony hadn’t intended for their reunion to go this direction. He’d expected someone different.

About 6:30 PM he used his cell phone to call the kitchen and have dinner brought to her suite. The flight was long. By 9:30 PM he was sound asleep in her bed.

*

For a few moments she sat up in bed and watched him. She still loathed him, but Claire felt she’d won this battle. She stood strong and quieted the fury in his approach. She gave in without incidence, making him less aggressive. The final outcome would be similar no matter the mode, but this way it happened—without violence and without video replay. To Claire that was a victory. She read her book for a few hours before joining him in sleep.

The next morning when she awoke, he was gone. She knew the tedious schedule of her daily duties had resumed. She didn’t mope. Instead, she headed to the exercise room and worked out, back to her suite and showered, then ate breakfast and learned of Tony’s location. Today, he was at the office, not home. She sighed with relief. That meant she had until 5:00 PM to do whatever she wanted. Already 10:00 AM, traveling to and from the lake, a three-and-a-half-hour journey, would monopolize her day. She would need to get up earlier on days she wanted to go there. Perhaps, that would be something she did on days he was out of town. Claire would miss her lake, but she was determined she wouldn’t risk losing her piece of paradise. She’d wait until a better time to go. Of course, that didn’t mean she couldn’t go into the woods for a walk. So she did. Just get away from the cameras felt liberating.

She spent at the pool, returned to her suite, showered, and was ready for instructions by 5:00 PM. Catherine brought word: Mr. Rawlings would be home and they would dine in the dining room at 7:00 PM. Claire didn’t need Catherine’s help with appropriate clothing—dining room meant formal. She knew how to follow the rules.

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At 6:45 PM Claire went down to the sitting room and waited for dinner. A little after 7:00 PM Tony joined her. “Good evening, Claire.”

“Good evening, Anthony.” They walked to the dining room.

“I went to your suite expecting to find you there.”

“I apologize. I was told dinner would be in the dining room at 7:00 PM, I didn’t want to be late.” She emphasized her obedience to his rules. Tony pulled out a chair, she sat. She couldn’t help notice his eyes—black as night. She knew her impudence had an effect on him, and she needed to be cautious. She was walking a slim hazardous line.

“Your punctuality is dutifully noted. It seems my absence has helped you remember who’s in charge and what guidelines you are to follow.”

“Yes, your absence was advantageous on many counts.” She placed the napkin on her lap. Tony’s eyes were piercing. After a prolonged silence, Claire decided to lighten the mood. “I believe it helped me recognize I owe you much, not just the money to repay my debt, but the confidence you’ve shown in me.” He was listening, “The confidence to trust me with your intimate beliefs”—she paused and waited. He didn’t comment—“I will not betray that confidence.”

Cindy and Carlos entered the dining room, placed plates with food, and poured water and tea. Claire and Tony remained silent until after the staff exited.

“Claire, if you’re sincere, you never cease to amaze me. If, however, you’re playing me—you will regret it.” His eyes were intense, probing for answers to her motivation.

“Tony, what would I gain by playing you? I’m aware my present, future, and release are solely in your hands. I’m sorry for my behavior before you left.” She was pretty sure she sounded earnest.

Tony seemed satisfied. He didn’t tell her it was all right, instead he changed the subject, and they ate. After dinner they went out to the gardens for a stroll. It was there he asked about her hikes in the woods. How far did she walk? Where did she go? How long was she gone? Claire didn’t want to tell him about the lake, but she was afraid to lie. He saw on the video surveillance she left the yard at one time and didn’t return until another.

She told him about the multiple clearings, insects, flowers, and animals—and the lake. He seemed surprised. He said he’d seen it years ago on his flyovers, but it had to be six or seven miles from the house. Suddenly, she worried. “Is it still on your land?”

Appreciating her concern, he told her yes, she’d stayed on his land. While they conversed, his eyes lightened. He reached into his breast pocket and brought out a black velvet box. “I found these for you in Italy. I thought they made a nice complement to your necklace.”

Claire opened the box. Inside, she discovered a pair of pearl earrings. The large cream colored pearls were almost identical in size and color to the one on her grandmother’s necklace; however, they were offset by white gold circles. They were pretty—but different. Claire tried to understand his meaning.

Tony explained, “Your necklace is a cross, which is an X on its side. Now your earrings are O’s—X’s and O’s.” He smiled.

It wasn’t as if she suddenly liked him, she didn’t; however, she appreciated the thought he put into his gift. It was a sweet and unexpected gesture. “Thank you, Tony. It was very kind of you to think of me during your busy trip.”

They made it through this storm. Leaving wasn’t an option, but they seemed to reach an understanding. Tony knew he was in control. He didn’t need to prove it. Claire knew she was in control of her actions, she could choose to fight or complain. Her plan was for self-preservation until she was free. This had been a good old-fashioned thunderstorm—loud and boisterous but no real damage.

Days passed and turned into weeks. It was the end of August and Claire’s schedule remained constant. The only variable was Tony’s work location. Before he left for Europe, he offered Eric for her use. Since his return he hadn’t mentioned her leaving the property. She hadn’t been off the estate since New York and that was a month ago. Truthfully, she didn’t miss the cities—she missed the lake. She kept praying for him to be called away for a few days; it didn’t happen.

Something else that hadn’t happened since Tony’s return was his threat of video screening. Other than the first night back, trying to bait her, he hadn’t mentioned the videos. It was as if they no longer existed. Claire knew that wasn’t true, but the illusion helped her compartmentalize.

Sundays usually involved staying at home, in his office, her suite, at the pool, anywhere that allowed for relaxation. Tony often needed to read or talk to Brent Simmons about something, but he slated Sundays for his time to do as he pleased. It was Sunday, August 29 when Claire decided to ask Tony for a favor.

He told her once that if she wanted something, she needed to ask. They were lounging at the pool, enjoying the last few days of the season when she asked, “Tony, I have a favor to ask of you.”

He lay on a lounge chair, his dark hair soft and wavy after drying in the sun, relaxing following a recent encounter in the pool. His swim trunks revealed his firm, defined, tanned body. His eyes were hidden behind sunglasses and he didn’t move; however, he replied, “Go ahead.”

“I’d like to call my sister.”

Slowly, he sat, removed his sunglasses, and shot his piercing eyes her direction. “I believe this has been discussed, and you know my decision. I’ve determined it’s better if you don’t have contact with your family.”

Although it was meant as a final statement, she persisted. “I remember you saying that; however, a lot of time has passed. I won’t say anything you don’t want me to say”—she could sense Tony was becoming more irritated, but she bravely added more information—“her birthday is August 31.”

He took a breath, exhaled, and lay back down. Claire waited, he didn’t answer. Putting her head back on the chair, she contemplated how she should revisit the subject without being disrespectful of his answer—or lack thereof.

*

Tony closed his eyes against the sunlight. He thought about the framed pictures hidden in the closet in his suite—the ones from Claire’s Atlanta apartment. He’d wondered how long it would take for her to ask to contact her family. It took five months. No doubt, if the means had been available she’d have contacted them sooner.

If her family consisted of poor farmers from Indiana, the call wouldn’t be much of a risk. Actually, Tony wasn’t concerned about her sister. It was her brother-in-law, John Vandersol, an accomplished attorney that was a potential threat. From humble beginnings, utilizing his intelligence and intuition, he had become an associate at a top-notch law firm in Albany, New York. This was a firm that rarely hired outside of Ivy League schools. The man was even under early consideration for partnership. Tony didn’t feel comfortable with Claire having contact with him.

As far as Tony was concerned, the past five months had taken favorable, unexpected turns. Claire’s behavior was a pleasant surprise, much better than he’d anticipated while planning her acquisition. Truthfully, while wanting to keep her and use her for himself, he hadn’t been sure it would work. Plan B had always been and supposedly still was still an option, but now that she’d been seen with him in public, it would be difficult to remain completely detached. He didn’t want the ad***ion of Emily, and especially John Vandersol, to upset his perfect equation.

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While Tony contemplated, a rush of fury swept his consciousness. He realized she was questioning—no, arguing—his decision. Not only was she arguing, but he was considering her request. It was the damned pictures, in the stupid frames. A small part of him cared that he’d taken all that away from her. That hadn’t bothered him five months ago. It had actually been quite the coup, but now…hell, it was just one call. Maybe if he could control the content. Reassuring himself—of course he could control the content—he controlled her. He could control a telephone call. Tony decided first he would see how badly she wanted to make this call. He would stand back and watch, see how far Claire would push, observing her resolve in the face of much adversity, as she attempted to manipulate him. Yeah, no lie, that courage turned him on. Finally, he said, “I’ll think about it.”

He didn’t bring up the subject again on Sunday. Monday came and went, they spent time together but he didn’t bring up her request. Tuesday was Emily’s birthday. He could sense Claire’s impatience. Her self-control since Sunday was impressive. He wondered if she would just abandon the idea if he didn’t bring it up.

*

Claire wasn’t sure if Tony thought that by avoiding the subject she would forget her own sister’s birthday—she didn’t. She’d been good and hadn’t pushed. She rationalized—he’s busy—maybe he forgot. She decided to wait through dinner, if he didn’t mention it, she’d bring it up.

They ate on the back patio with a slight breeze blowing her hair. The evenings were becoming increasingly cool and Claire regretted not bringing a sweater or light jacket to dinner. When they’d finished eating, Tony began to stand. Claire bit her lip and spoke, “Tony, today is Emily’s birthday.” She’d created an illusion of equality in her mind and didn’t want to beg.

He resumed sitting and leaned into Claire, his voice sounded threatening—slow and deliberate. “So you’ve decided this subject is worth risking reprimand? I believe my last answer was I would think about it.”

Claire swallowed with her head high and looked directly into his dark eyes. “Yes, I feel talking to Emily on her birthday is worth the punishment you believe I deserve for pursuing the subject.” Tony didn’t speak but intently maintained their gaze. She waited for his response. Finally, she spoke again, “Tony, may I please call my sister for her birthday?”

“I have her telephone number in my office. You may call her from there.” Claire’s heart jumped and her eyes sparkled. She started to stand but he indicated for her to remain seated. “First, I will define the rules of this call”—she nodded and listened—“you will speak to her on a speaker phone, with me present. Before you call, we will discuss the limitations of your discussion.” She hated his tone, the one he used when he felt the need to show his authority, but his words were saying she could talk to Emily. The rest didn’t matter.

Claire replied, “I understand. Thank you, Tony.”

Walking down the marble corridor toward Tony’s office Claire thought about her sister. They hadn’t spoken in over five months. She fought the incredible urge to run the length of the corridor and grab his telephone. Once in his office, Tony instructed her to sit near his desk. She could see the phone—the anticipation was agony. He sat back in his leather chair and proclaimed, “Do not tell Emily or John that you have been or are living in my home. You may mention that you live and work in Iowa, near the Quad Cities, if you are pressed. I recommend you keep the conversation focused on Emily and avoid discussing yourself. If she brings it up you may admit to accompanying me to various events. Let me emphasize, any subject of you or me is not to be initiated by you. If the subject of getting together comes up—be evasive. The shorter the conversation is the better the chance you won’t make a mistake”—to emphasize her compliance, he added—“disobeying these rules is not an option—the consequence will not be pleasant. Do you have any questions? Do you understand my rules? Are you ready to call?”

“I don’t have any questions. Tony, I promise I understand the rules, and oh, yes, I’m ready!”

He removed a piece of paper from the top drawer of his desk and dialed the phone. Then, as if just occurring to him, he added, “There’s a block on this line. My number will not appear on their caller ID.” He hit the speaker button. Claire’s heart leapt as she heard Emily’s line ring.

It rang and rang until John’s voice came over the speaker, but it wasn’t really him. It was their voicemail. Her heart sank. Looking to Tony she asked, “May I leave a message?” He nodded as John’s voice continued. “May I tell her I’ll try to reach her again?”

The recording beeped. Finally, Tony nodded.

Keeping her tone as light as possible, considering the disappointment of reaching their voicemail, Claire said, “Hi Emily and John, it’s Claire. I wanted to call and wish Emily a happy birthday. I’m sorry I missed you. I hope you’re having a great day. Things are very busy, but I’ll try to reach you again, happy birthday!—”

Tony hit disconnect. Claire didn’t want to stop talking. She lowered her head and felt the tears. Resolved to accept the outcome, she looked up into Tony’s gaze. “Thank you for allowing me to make that call. Do you need me right now or may I go to my room?”

“You may leave.”

Dejectedly, she rose.

Tony continued, “I’ll be up to join you later. I have some work to complete first.” Claire verbally acknowledged his plans and continued to walk toward the grand double doors. As she reached for the handle, he continued, his initial authoritative tone mellowed, “Claire, New York is an hour later than Iowa. Perhaps they went out to dinner and a movie. You can try again later.”

She didn’t turn back around. She didn’t want him to see the tears cascading down her cheeks. Though fighting sobs, she feigned resolve and articulated, “Thank you.”

As she stepped into the cool corridor and closed the door to his office, Claire melted onto the marble floor. The staggering disappointment momentarily debilitated her. Eventually, her resolve grew—she regained composure—and obediently walked to her suite. Truthfully, she appreciated his offer.

About nine in Iowa, they went back to his office to try again. To expe***e the process, Claire looked to Tony and proclaimed she remembered the rules and wouldn’t fail. Through the speaker, the phone began to ring. It only rang once when the voice of a woman on the other end answered, “Claire, is that you?”

Claire’s heart soared. “Yes, Emily, it’s me. Happy birthday, sis!”

Emily’s voice hadn’t changed. Claire heard the excitement of their reunion coming through the speaker. “Thank you. Hearing from you is the best birthday gift ever. Where are you? Are you all right? Why haven’t you called us?”

Claire looked from the phone to Tony and then back to the phone. Tony’s eyes spoke volumes. “Hey, slow down. I have a new job that keeps me very busy, but I couldn’t miss talking to you on your special day. How are you doing? How is John? How is his law firm?” She’d done it. She succeeded in getting Emily to talk about them.

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Emily said she was fine. School had recently started, and she thought this was going to be a good class. John was fine, just very busy. The law firm was good, he was an associate now and the more hours he billed the better chance he had of making partner. Claire could have spoken with her for hours. They had so much catching up to do. Instead, Claire apologized and told her she needed to run. She loved her and please give John her love. Emily said, “I would, honey, but John is right here, and he’d love to talk with you!”

Claire looked at Tony. His eyes darkened as his head slowly shook.

Claire replied, “I’d really like to, but I really need to run. Have a great birthday. Bye.” Again, Tony pressed disconnect.

Claire stared at the telephone for the longest time. This was one of those junctures. She could be sad the conversation was short or she could choose to be happy there had been a conversation. She decided to pick B.

Standing to leave Tony’s office, she looked up to see him leaning back in his chair. His eyes devoured her as he unbuckled his belt. With sickening comprehension Claire understood, in his mind he’d shown a kindness, now he expected gratitude—quid pro quo.

If life were predictable it would cease to be life and be without flavor.

—Eleanor Roosevelt

Chapter Fifteen

‡

“We’ve been invited to a Labor Day barbeque, tomorrow.”

Sitting on the sun porch, reading her new novel, and enjoying the Sunday afternoon, Tony’s casual announcement surprised Claire. The warm gentle breeze and faint smell of cut grass gave way to a rush of anxiety and disbelief. “We? Who would invite me?”

“Courtney, Brent Simmons’ wife,” Tony said while lounging on the loveseat with his laptop on his outstretched legs. His light brown eyes gazed at Claire as she questioned him.

“Why? What does she know about me?”

“Well, Brent met you when I brought you to New York, and Courtney knows I’ve been seen with the same woman on multiple occasions. Since they’re probably my closest friends, she wants to meet you and invited both of us to tomorrow’s barbeque.”

Despite her sudden rush of anxiety at meeting his closest friends, Claire knew her fate wasn’t in her hands. “Are we going?”

“Yes. It starts at noon, and we’ll leave here by 11:30 AM.”

“I guess it sounds like fun.” Her tone was tentative. She wondered what these friends would think of her. Did they know him well enough to know the truth about her? If they didn’t, how should she act? Her stomach began to knot with unanswered concerns. “Please let me know if there’re different instructions for an intimate barbeque versus a public event.”

Tony set his laptop on the table and contemplated Claire’s honest question. His words sounded instructive, but his tone wasn’t authoritative, just matter-of-fact as they gazed at one another. The late summer breeze caused strands of her long golden brown hair to float around her beautiful face. Her green eyes saw only him as her expression reflected her sincere interest in his advice. “You’ve done well at public events, this will be different. I believe there’ll be four or five couples present. You met Brent. His wife is Courtney. They have two children who are grown and live away. Brent’s law partner Thomas Miller will be there. His wife is Beverly. She owns a renowned design firm in Bettendorf. Brent is a few years my senior. Thomas and Beverly are closer to my age, they have no children. Another guest will be Elijah Summer and his long-time companion MaryAnn. Elijah is another client of Brent and Tom’s. He’s made a fortune in the entertainment business and enjoys telling stories about some of his more famous clients. Personally, I believe he enjoys hearing himself talk”—Tony paused and smiled—“much more than I like to hear him talk, and the last couple will be Timothy Bronson and his wife Sue. Tim’s a junior vice president at my local office. He’s young, but has proven himself. I asked Brent to invite him to make him feel involved.”

That was all helpful information, Claire desperately tried to remember names: Brent and Courtney—Thomas and Beverly—Elijah and Sue—no, Elijah and Mary Ann—Timothy and Sue, but that really didn’t answer her question. Claire thought to herself—there were wives and long-time companions, what did that make her? “Tony, who am I?”

“You’re a rumor.” Perhaps it was the calm setting of the sun porch or their recent understanding, whatever the reason, Tony spoke thoughtfully. He explained he’d spent his entire life working, accomplishing goals, and fulfilling self-made agendas. He’d been in relationships—most very short-lived. He believed strongly in appearances and had not been willing to risk the perception people have of him on a woman. Claire thought about his words and his honesty, and right or wrong, she believed him. He continued, “You told me that you wouldn’t betray my confidence.”

“I did, and I still mean that.”

“I believe you know what could happen if you did.” Feeling the prickling sensation which accompanies chills along your arms and legs, Claire believed she did know, but she didn’t confirm that verbally. She allowed Tony to continue talking. “And therefore I’ve allowed you to become part of my life.”

She thought he honestly meant that as a compliment, and she should be flattered; however, it felt more ominous. She wondered and worried about her release. This quiet peaceful setting wasn’t the time or place to voice her concerns. Instead, she decided to put it away and deal with it later.

He said, “Since you have been seen with me at various events, and I’m rarely seen with the same woman over time—you’re a rumor. There have been countless speculations about you. Everyone, like the man at the benefit, wants to know who you are and what you are to me.”

Claire admitted, she too, would like the answer to those questions. “I saw our picture in a People Magazine from your library.”

He said their picture had appeared in many publications. His publicist had kept information limited to the basics: her name and that she lived in Atlanta. The people at this barbeque were part of his inner circle and wouldn’t betray his trust. Other than Elijah Summer, their jobs and livelihood depended on Tony. Elijah was a more public person, but he respected Tony and wouldn’t compromise their mutual friendship.

She tried one more time, “And I am…”

“Persistent.” His eyes were soft and light with a contented expression. He spoke as he moved from the loveseat to the floor of the sun porch. “Well, I would say more than an acquaintance.” Kneeling in front of her, he gently spread her knees and moved his hand under the hem of her skirt. Their eyes met as the sides of his lips turned upward into a devilish grin. “Shall we say…companion?”

If that were a question, she didn’t answer. Her attentions were turned to his actions, as his touch directed her from the chair to the straw rug. The windows and doors were open, and they were exposed to the world. It was his house—he didn’t care. Although the porch’s rug was rough, his movements were calm like his tone. The staff didn’t return until they were done.

Late Sunday night, Shelby on the Weather Channel, said a cold front would pass over Iowa. Claire awoke and opened the drapes to find condensation on the windows with crystal clear skies beyond. Stepping onto her balcony, she looked at the trees and smelled the fresh autumn air. The cool concrete beneath her bare feet and the goose bumps on her arms and legs confirmed the decrease in temperature. Wrapping her arms and her thick cashmere robe around her body, she entertained fleeting memories of autumns past. She always loved summers but autumns were special too—with cookouts and football games. Today the change of season brought sadness, another reminder of time slipping away.

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While in the shower, she contemplated the impending barbeque. It was a new situation—a new test—and as such, made her anxious. She hadn’t received a direct answer to her question, so Claire decided to approach the people at the barbeque as she was told to approach Emily. She would try to turn conversation away from herself and divulge as little information as possible. Evasive answers would be best. There was a time she loved parties, getting together with people, laughing, talking, and sharing. Now, she was petrified of saying or doing something wrong.

Stepping from the shower, Claire discovered her clothes on her bed. Sometimes that upset her, other times, like today, it was reassuring—one less decision to mess up. She did her hair, make-up, and dressed. At 10:30 AM she was ready—an hour before they were to leave.

The balcony held two chairs. She sat plaintively and watched the trees through sunglassed eyes. The bright sunshine caused a rapid increase in temperature as the trees rustled in the gentle breeze. Vibrant hues of yellow and orange were beginning to emerge from the green canvas. Her mind wandered through the woods to her lake. She hadn’t been back since Tony’s return. That was to say—physically. Mentally she could be sitting on the shore, watching the minnows or listening to the water rhythmically lap the shore at any time. As a matter of fact she was sitting on the shore, in her mind, when Tony materialized behind her. “Oh, good morning, Tony, I didn’t hear you enter.”

He eased himself into the other chair. “Good morning, where were you?”

“I’ve been here. I have nowhere else to go.”

“You seemed far away.”

“I was thinking about the trees—being partially honest—“Their leaves are already changing.”

It was as if he never really looked at them—so he did. “I guess they are—that happens.” He didn’t concern himself with matters he couldn’t influence. “Are you ready for our outing?” She said she was and they proceeded down the grand stairs. “I have a car out front, we can go.”

When Tony opened the door she saw a small Lexus SC 10 convertible, but no Eric. Tony opened the passenger door and she got in. He went around to the driver’s seat. She couldn’t help but smile at him. He wore jeans that accentuated his trim waist, a button-down shirt, white, which showed his tan, his powerful chest, and shoulders. His hair was perfect. As she beheld his profile she saw the “red-hot ***y” People Magazine mentioned.

Glancing at her as he started the car, he noticed her smile seemed different. “What?” he asked.

“I guess I forgot you drive, without Eric I mean.”

Tony smiled. “I love to drive; however, it’s more advantageous to be driven and accomplish work during my commutes.”

The convertible felt liberating with the wind and air invigorating their senses. Thankfully, Claire decided to wear her hair in a side braid. She laid her head on the headrest and watched the road twist and turn, the vibrant sapphire blue of the sky and the autumn colors making picture-perfect views as Tony drove the narrow country roads. Claire inhaled the aromatic autumn air as memories of pumpkins and leaves filled her subconscious.

The car slowed to a stop along a quiet side road. Tony gently touched Claire’s braid. “Good choice of style”—he smiled—“I’m needed in Chicago for a couple of days next week”—He continued to play with the end of her braid. Claire thought about her lake—“I’ve made you an appointment at a very exclusive spa in my apartment building”—her attention refocused on him and his words—“Your hair needs trimming and you can have a manicure, pedicure, full body massage, and sauna—whatever you desire.”

She started to respond, “Thanks, but no thanks.”

He stopped her and went on, “I just trust that it won’t need to be canceled.”

Confused, Claire asked, “Why would it need to be canceled?” As the words escaped her lips she wondered why she cared, she actually didn’t want to go to a spa—she wanted time alone to go to the lake.

Moving his hand from her braid, he gently removed her sunglasses and lifted her chin, holding her eyes to his. She watched as the dark deepened. “If today doesn’t go as I believe it should, a massage may not be possible. We wouldn’t want appearances to be questioned.” There was no ambiguity to his statement. Claire received his meaning loud and clear. The autumn air suddenly chilled.

Maintaining forced eye contact, Claire responded, “Tony, I fully comprehend the importance of appearances. I won’t let you down.”

He handed her the sunglasses, moved his hands back to the steering wheel, and put the car in gear. “As long as we’re clear—public failure is not an option.”

Claire reassured him, they were clear.

The Simmons’ home was grand, probably about a quarter of the size of Tony’s, but large by normal standards, with a good deal of land. The Lexus moved slowly through the gates and up their drive as Tony turned to view Claire. She felt his gaze and maintained her mask. By all outward appearance she looked beautiful and content, the ingredients to the perfect companion. She saw his grip on the wheel relax and knew his brown eyes were muted.

They parked on a brick circle directly in front of the home beside many equally nice automobiles. The front door opened as Tony opened Claire’s door. He gently put his arm around her and led her toward the entry. Claire remembered Brent, but Courtney wasn’t what she had imagined. She looked younger than a woman with two grown children. She was slender, with short brown hair, soft blue eyes, and a refreshingly engaging smile. Instantly, Claire liked her. Brent may owe his livelihood to Tony, but Courtney obviously felt very comfortable around both of them.

Courtney immediately hugged Claire. “You must be Claire. I’m so excited to finally meet you. My dear, you’re more beautiful than your pictures!” Claire felt overwhelmed. She introduced herself and called Courtney Mrs. Simmons. When she looked to Tony, he was already in conversation with Brent.

“Oh, goodness, call me Courtney. We’ll let those two get their business out of the way so we can have some fun. I’ll take you around and introduce you to our other guests.” Tony didn’t seem to object, so Claire allowed herself to be ushered off.

The house was stunning, yet homey—not like Tony’s. Children had played on these floors, a family laughed and loved within these walls; each room contained priceless memories. Courtney walked Claire through her home toward the kitchen. Designed very modern, brushed stainless steel appliances, granite countertops, and tall cabinets were accentuated with intricate tile. Golden lighting fixtures hung at appropriate intervals, not for light but ambiance. The kitchen wasn’t only functional, but was also intended as the centerpiece of the home. The stove was located on a large island that contained a wraparound bar with six tall stools. Out from the kitchen Claire could see a large family room leading to a sun porch and their backyard.

Claire couldn’t see beyond the porch, but she did notice the suddenly silent room of guests. She couldn’t help but feel their eyes on her—assessing and evaluating. Keeping her mask in place she moved forward. She hadn’t expected to face these people without Tony.

Courtney didn’t leave Claire’s side as she introduced her to the others. First, she met Tom and Bev. Claire did her best to be polite and social. “It’s so nice to meet you. I believe Tony told me that you,” looking at Tom, “and Brent are partners?” They continued with some polite conversation. Claire asked Bev about her design business. Years of bartending taught Claire the art of small talk.

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Next, were Sue and Tim. “Tim, I’ve heard wonderful things about you.” Claire watched as Sue’s smile widened and Tim’s expression softened. He seemed stressed. She understood; working for Tony could do that to a person. She hoped some positive reinforcement would help.

Then it was on to Eli and MaryAnn. It didn’t take Claire long to understand what Tony meant by Elijah enjoying his own stories. Lastly, Courtney introduced Claire to the couple with Eli and MaryAnn, Chance and Bonnie. Claire wasn’t prepared for this couple. She wondered if Tony knew they were there. Courtney explained that Chance was an associate of Eli’s in town for a visit, so of course they were welcome to join them. Chance seemed nice enough, but Bonnie made no secret of her evaluation of Claire.

Courtney offered Claire a drink. Requesting water, Courtney obliged but suggested Claire considered something a little more fun. “We have some fantastic sangria.”

Just then Tony and Brent joined them in the kitchen. Tony looked so relaxed wearing jeans and holding a beer, it almost made Claire laugh. Appearances were everything.

Brent did his own barbequing, and the men joined him out on the patio. The women gathered around the island as Courtney busied with side dishes. They all offered to help but she wouldn’t hear of it, confessing she hadn’t prepared a thing. Her cook did it all yesterday and now she was only putting them into the appropriate dishes. The conversation quickly went to cooking. Some enjoyed it, others did not. Did Claire enjoy cooking? She told them she did. Did Tony like her cooking? She laughed and said she hadn’t prepared many meals for him. She left out the part about her not cooking in over five months because she’d been held hostage.

It seemed like Bonnie tried to ask more Claire specific questions, but Courtney did a fantastic job of moving the conversation. Claire had apparently made a quick friend of Sue by complimenting her husband. Sue ran flank for Courtney, helping Claire avoid the invasive inquiries.

Sue looked about Claire’s age, mid to late twenties, very pretty, blonde and tan. It was nice to talk to a female who was her contemporary. While the men cooked, Claire learned that Sue had a degree in art appreciation and worked part-time at the art museum in Davenport. Tim didn’t feel Sue needed to work. Financially, she didn’t; however, Tim worked long hours and she needed something to do with her time. After she mentioned the long hours, Sue immediately added, “But he’s glad to do it.” It took a minute, but Claire realized the ad***ional information was because she was the boss’ companion.

The dinner tasted fabulous. Claire hadn’t eaten normal food in five months, everything was always healthy. She wanted to devour the entire platter of hamburgers; however, she chose the barbecued chicken—or Tony did for her. She managed some of Courtney’s homemade side dishes and savored every bite.

The conversation remained benign and chatty. Bonnie didn’t only question Claire any chance she could, she also approached Tony. When they were introduced, Chance had the good sense to address Tony as Mr. Rawlings. Bonnie wasn’t as astute. Of course, Tony told Chance that at gatherings of friends he could call him Anthony.

Tony had been right about his inner circle. Even Eli was annoyed at Bonnie’s abrasive curiosity. Claire didn’t need to lie or deceive. Bonnie continually found herself cut off before Claire had a chance to respond.

After they ate, the men retired to a lower level. Claire would later learn that it contained a beautiful handcrafted bar, pool table, and large television. The women took a bottle of wine and sat on the sun porch. The sunshine with the cool air felt wonderful. To be sitting with five other women chatting felt like a performance—unreal. Their conversation ran from books, to movies, to ***y movie stars. MaryAnn shared some inside scoop on some of Eli’s clients. ***y stars led to ***. Claire politely excused herself and asked Courtney about the ladies’ room.

It was on her way back to the porch when she overheard MaryAnn and Bonnie in a room off the main hall. “Bonnie, what’s your problem? You’re embarrassing yourself with your persistence about Claire and Tony.”

“I’m an inquisitive person. I want to find out what the rest of the world wants to know. Why is he, Anthony Rawlings, interested in her? She’s a nobody.”

“Frankly, Bonnie, it’s none of your damn business. It’s none of any of our business. Tony’s a private man, and as far as a nobody, I guess that depends on who you ask. Tony must think she’s somebody. If he wants Claire in his life—good for him.”

“Hell no! Good for her!” Bonnie exclaimed. “The guy is drop-dead gorgeous and has money to burn. He hardly takes his eyes off her. Do you think she paid for those clothes she’s wearing? The blouse alone is over five-hundred dollars. She’s getting herself a sugar daddy. Look how young and skinny she is, why she—”

“Stop it. Stop it now, or we’ll tell Courtney we need to leave. I’ll tell Eli what you’ve done and you and Chance will go back to California. Perhaps you can get started on Chance’s job search.” MaryAnn’s control of the situation made Claire smile. Bonnie told MaryAnn she would stop. Claire let them proceed to the porch and waited a few minutes before joining the group. Once there, she smiled at MaryAnn but didn’t glance toward Bonnie.

The men and women came together outside for some conversation, dessert, and drinks. Claire passed on the dessert and sat with Tony’s arm around her shoulders. Brent had a fire pit built into his patio. The cool autumn evening, crackling fire, warmth, and distinct aroma created a pleasurable atmosphere. At about 6:30 PM Tony whispered to Claire that they should leave. Everyone seemed genuinely saddened, Claire included.

It had been a nice day, better than anticipated.

As they said goodbyes, Sue handed Claire a piece of paper. Surprised, Claire opened it. It was a telephone number. “Call me, we can do lunch.” Claire smiled and said she would try.

They went to the car and drove away. Perhaps they drove a mile—maybe two when Tony stopped the car on the side of the road and put out his hand. He didn’t speak but she knew what he wanted. She placed Sue’s telephone number in his palm. “Tony—”

With the same hand that held the little white piece of paper he roughly covered her mouth. “Not now. We’ll discuss it when we get home.” He let go of her face and resumed driving.

No words were uttered during their drive home. Claire’s internal monologue however, raged: this is ridiculous. Sue was being friendly. I had no idea she would do such a thing. What is the big deal? Why does he have to react so fast and so violent like a freak’n tornado?

Tony pulled the car to the front door. He didn’t open Claire’s door. Instead, he told her to go to her suite, he’d be up later. He had things to do—like cancel a spa appointment. His tone was curt and his eyes dark. She wanted to run. Instead, she got out of the car and walked boldly into the house, through the large doors, up the grand staircase, and down the southeast corridor to her suite. Once she closed her door, she felt her heart race and her internal monologue continue: this was such a nice day. I met Tony’s friends, and they were nice. I wanted to tell him about what I heard. I wanted to tell him what a great time I had.

Claire knew what Anthony was doing. Starting in the car—he was contemplating—overthinking—and overanalyzing the entire situation. She knew if he would just let her, she could explain. Oh God! She wanted to lie down, scream, and cry. But, she also knew he could watch her every move. She refused to give him the satisfaction, refused to let him know how worried she was about his decision. Truthfully, she was worried—actually, terrified. Every bone in her body feared the possible return of his other persona.

Consequences
Consequences Page 39



There are two things a person should never be angry at, what they can help, and what they cannot.

—Plato

Chapter Sixteen

‡

Claire sat at her table, writing. Tony couldn’t see what she was writing. The cameras didn’t have enough zooming capability. Her body language didn’t look nervous. It showed a proud and defiant pose. He watched as she wrote, sitting straight, her neck tall and proud. The only hint of uneasiness could be the way her feet fidgeted under her chair.

From his office screens, he could access different views of the room. From another view, she sat farther away, and he saw her bed in the background. Of course, there was the view that kept the bed centered, but the table wasn’t visible from that camera.

Trying to contemplate his options and the consequences of her actions, Tony closed his eyes and reviewed the day. When he entered her suite, he anticipated anxiety, but found calm. Then there was that smile when they got in the car. God! Her smile when it was real melted him. Her emerald eyes could glisten and shine. Of course, he didn’t see her real smile much. He did today, and seeing her with his friends, she was perfect.

He told himself the reason he had trouble keeping his eyes off her was strictly because he needed to monitor her behavior. It had nothing to do with how beautiful she looked. Now, as he watched the screens, he wondered what she was thinking. Was she thinking about him, about her future? It was all up to him. She knew that. He knew that. The power didn’t give him the satisfaction it once had.

Damn, why in the hell did Sue give her that phone number? What did they talk about when he was away? His head filled with unanswered questions and plausible scenarios. She wanted to leave him. Why wouldn’t she? Did she initiate a plan? Why wouldn’t she follow his rules?

His internal monologue momentarily caused him to lose focus of the screens. Now, as he scanned, she was gone. He scanned the other views until he noticed the open door to the balcony. He could only see the back of her head. He needed another camera installed.

Over an hour had passed since they came home. Making Claire wait for him was part of his plan, but watching her, it seemed she controlled her nerves better than he. Maybe he needed fresh air too. No—he needed to make a decision. It was his mantra. She knew the rules. It didn’t matter if you do something 99 percent right, perfection was required. The fact remained she must have broken his rules. He needed to make a decision. Behaviors have consequences, consequences can be unpleasant. Tony told himself he had warned her, she chose not to listen.

*

She inhaled and exhaled. The country air filled her lungs with cool, refreshing strength. Claire thought about the people she’d met and about talking and laughing. It was fantastic. Courtney’s reassurance and Tony’s unusually kind smiles relieved her initial anxiety. She knew it was a charade, but it was fun, getting out around people. Then the telephone number came. It boggled her mind that something so incredibly simple could cause such ridiculous repercussions.

She thought about Tony. He would enter her suite soon—of course without knocking—and he would have some verdict regarding her insubordination. The fact that she wasn’t insubordinate wouldn’t alter his decision. She wondered if he handled business issues this way too—without input. With her mind scrambling, she asked herself, Do I have any options?

Her wild emotions caused a rush of adrenaline concealing the cool night air from her consciousness. His impending decision terrified her—his smiles today gratified her—and his physique in jeans aroused her. How could her body defy her mind so severely? Claire believed her body was the true offender of insubordination!

Thinking about Bonnie made Claire laugh at the irony. She thought Claire was securing a sugar daddy. The reality couldn’t be farther from the truth; however, at that moment, instead of wanting to explain, she was honored to be associated with Anthony Rawlings. Irrational best described her thoughts. Maybe if she could get her body and mind to work together she could devise some kind of plan. The sound of the suite door closing brought her thoughts to the present.

Tony didn’t speak, but his eyes did, acknowledging Claire on the balcony and bidding her to enter. She did. Determined to continue the bogus act of strength, she walked within inches of him and stood her ground. He didn’t greet her, instead he lifted her chin. His eyes looked as cold as the feel of his icy hand. Claire knew without a doubt—this would not be good. “What did we discuss just before we arrived at the Simmons?”

Her eyes flashed fire but her words sounded respectful. “I told you I wouldn’t let you down and I didn’t.”

“Actions have consequences, I’ve told you that. Why is that difficult for you to understand?”

“Tony, it isn’t. If—” He stopped her, not with a gentle finger to the lips but with a slap to her left cheek. Claire stopped speaking, her eyes moist; nonetheless, she refused to look away or back down.

“Actions have consequences. I’ve been thinking quite a bit about an appropriate punishment.”

Claire decided she had nothing to lose—punishment was coming—she might as well push her luck. “Tony, if you would please let me speak. I know your decision is set, but allow me to talk.”

He nodded and told her to make it quick.

“I was nervous about going to this barbeque today, but I had a wonderful time. Courtney was the perfect hostess and very charming. Everyone was nice to me. I really didn’t know what to expect”—she tried to hurry—“Well, everyone except Bonnie. By the way, I overheard Bonnie and MaryAnn talking and everyone there had your back. That includes me. Sue—well Sue is lonely. She told me Tim works long hours, which she mentioned he enjoys, but she’s lonely. At some point, she asked me for my number. I don’t have one—as you know—but I thought that sounded dumb—everyone has a cell phone—so I just said I didn’t have it with me and I didn’t know my number. I never call myself. So, I’m guessing that’s why she gave me her number. I really didn’t know she was going to do it. If I had, would I have had her do it right in front of you?”

Tony hadn’t stopped her, so she decided to keep rambling, pacing a little. “When Courtney introduced me to Tim and Sue, I told Tim I’d heard good things about him—from you. I can only guess that made Sue and I instant friends. Women love to hear good things about their husbands. I would have told you if I’d gotten the number without you knowing. I have no way of calling, and if I just didn’t call, it would appear rude. I know how you feel about appearances.” She didn’t know what else to say, but at least she had said her piece. “I really did well today, this was just a misunderstanding, and your friends were very nice.”

She stood and maintained eye contact. Tony continued speaking as if no words had been uttered. “I’ve decided you may choose. Perhaps you would like to know your choices?”

Claire’s heart sank as she lowered herself into a chair at the table and looked away. Nothing she’d said mattered. He hadn’t listened to a word. Defeat filled her voice, “Tony, your decision is made; I don’t care.” She silently smirked at the piece of paper on the table when she saw the title she’d written: positives from my day.

“The first option is a two-week timeout in your suite.”