[English] Consequences

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The stiffness in her neck made turning painful, and the dizziness made focusing difficult. She heard Catherine. Someone was with her. Was it the doctor?

Whoever he was, suddenly, he was right in front of her; an older man with a very pleasant, encouraging, deep voice. “Ms. Nichols, I’m Dr. Leonard. I’ve been taking care of you since Mr. Rawlings found you in the woods. Can you talk to me?”

Claire lifted her right hand to her throat. The slightest movement tired her.

“Catherine, could you please get Ms. Nichols some water?” Catherine hurried for the liquid. Claire watched Catherine return with a glass and a straw. She handed it to the doctor, who put the straw to Claire’s lips. “Drink slowly; your stomach has been empty for a while.” Claire began to sip as the water cooled and refreshed her parched throat. While she continued to drink, the doctor spoke to Tony. Each sip soothed, while at the same time creating a buzzing sound which filled her head. She could see the doctor’s lips moving, as well as Tony’s, but she only heard the buzz. When he removed the straw from her lips, the buzzing ceased.

“Please, that was so good,” Claire spoke. The room went silent. Everyone turned to her.

Tony spoke first, “Claire, thank God. How do you feel?” As he leaned over her, she realized she wasn’t in her bed—it was a hospital bed. That made sense. She wondered how she’d sat up, but, she wasn’t in a hospital room—it was her suite.

“I feel…I feel…tired…and kind of dizzy,” her voice quivered with uncertainty and pain.

Dr. Leonard asked Tony and Catherine to allow him to examine Claire alone. Catherine agreed and began to leave, but Tony stayed, saying Claire wouldn’t mind him being there. Claire started to agree that Tony could stay, when Dr. Leonard continued, “Mr. Rawlings, I realize you hired me; however, as a medical doctor, I need to see and talk to Ms. Nichols alone. You’ll be welcomed back as soon as we’re done.” Tony stared at Dr. Leonard. The doctor continued, “Mr. Rawlings, she is not related to you. We must allow her some privacy.”

Claire watched and thought Tony can handle this—it’s his battle. However, surprisingly, he didn’t battle. Instead, he replied, “I’m sorry; you’re right. It’s just that it’s been so long since she’s been awake. I don’t want to leave her.” Standing, he continued, “I will; I’ll be right outside the door. Please call me when you’re finished.” He then leaned over, kissed Claire on her forehead, and left the room.

The doctor spoke soothingly as he helped Claire remove her nightgown and removed tubes. Claire mindlessly thought the doctor’s breath smelled like coffee—she liked coffee. He pushed on her side and asked, “Does this hurt?” Next, he touched her face, her cheek, her temple, and asked if any of it hurt? He examined her head, touching her skull, front and back, and near the neck. Then, he focused on her arms and legs. Lastly, he touched her back, pushing harder in some spots. Claire saw the remnants of bruises on her arms, legs, and midsection and felt them elsewhere. Her back and midsection hurt the most from the doctor’s pressure, and her face felt tender. Looking at her legs covered in brown and yellow marks, she wondered if her face looked as bad as her legs. After he finished with his examination, and yes—no questions, he helped her put her nightgown back on.

“Ms. Nichols, I need you to be completely honest with me, do you understand?”

“Yes, but I’m getting very tired.”

“Please tell me what you remember from the night of your accident.”

“Dr. Leonard, I’m very tired and my memories are fuzzy.” As she spoke her head continued to buzz. Her throat once again felt raw. The combination made talking difficult.

“It’s all right. Let me put your bed back.” He pushed the button to recline the bed and continued to inquire, “Now, please, what do you remember?”

The fatigue overwhelmed Claire. Abruptly her stomach revolted against the water. Initially queasy, she instantly knew she would be sick. “Doctor, I’m going to get sick”—she sat up. He grabbed a basin, and the water she drank came back up.

“Miss Nichols, it’s okay. It’s normal—your stomach has been empty for too long.”

The vomiting made her shake, and suddenly her head and ribs throbbed. The fierce pain caused her to cry.

“Ms. Nichols, your pain medicine has started to wear off. I’ll get you some more, but I want you to be thinking straight. Please tell me what happened.” He was persistent.

Claire felt faint and her body felt limp. She wanted food, but her stomach wouldn’t even hold water. The doctor wanted to know what happened—and she knew. When she closed her eyes and felt the pain she saw Tony. She saw his rage, his fury, his unwillingness to listen. She remembered every terrifying minute until she blacked out. It happened two weeks ago, yet she still felt the agony.

The weakness, combined with the unsettled stomach, told her it wasn’t going to end anytime soon. Claire wanted to go back to her visions. Nevertheless, the doctor waited for the answer to his question. He gave her some more water but instructed her to only rinse and spit into the basin. It helped the terrible taste go away.

Once her mouth again felt moist, she spoke, “I went for a walk in the woods—I like the woods—It rained the day before—and the ground was slippery in some spots—I made it into the woods fine—but I let it get dark—I watched the sun set—I remember it being crimson and beautiful”—She laid her head back on the pillow and closed her eyes. Softly tears trickled down her cheeks. Dr. Leonard was determined; he asked her to continue. She did, but with closed eyes—“So it was dark by the time I headed back to the house—I remember getting to the clearing—which is about forty-five minutes from here—the sun—I mean the moon was bright—I tried to get back—Catherine had dinner waiting for me”—Her eyelids were heavy and her words slowed and slurred. She never remembered feeling so incredibly tired—all she wanted to do was sleep. Please God, she prayed, let me sleep.

“Ms. Nichols, did you make it back to the house?” Dr. Leonard spoke softly.

“I don’t remember.” Her decision was made. Telling the truth wouldn’t do any good. Actually, it would be a direct violation of Tony’s rules. She wasn’t allowed to discuss private matters. She’d learned her lesson well. As her ribs, head, and stomach ached, the lesson was reinforced. “I remember slipping in the mud. There were roots and limbs. It was very dark under the trees. After that, I just don’t know.”

“Please know, Ms. Nichols, anything you disclose to me is said in confidence. I’m bound by complete patient—doctor confidentiality,” he spoke quietly. Despite her physical exhaustion, Claire’s mind was astute. She knew every word they uttered was recorded and possibly overheard as they spoke.

“Doctor, I’m not sure what you’re asking me or what you’re implying, but I can’t remember what happened that night. Perhaps I hit my head?” Her eyes were open and brimming with tears. The exhaustion was debilitating. “Please, may I rest?” Her eyes closed and she slipped away.

Hours later, Claire opened her eyes to see Catherine holding a glass of her famous banana strawberry yogurt smoothie. She told the caring woman she was afraid it would make her sick—like the water. Catherine explained the doctor had put some medicine in her IV. It would help with the pain and nausea. Claire reached for the button to sit herself up, but before she could get to it, Tony did. His presence caused her to involuntarily tremble. His eyes weren’t dark; instead, they were soft like brown suede. He gently touched her face. “You need to listen to Catherine. Please try to drink the smoothie. You need to get better, and to do that you need to eat.” She looked at him and wondered if he knew about her recent confidential conversation. He continued to plead, “Please, Claire.”

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She drank some of the smoothie, closed her eyes, and fell asleep.

The next time she woke, her suite burst with flowers. They looked beautiful and their aroma permeated her dreams. Over the next few weeks, they were constantly replaced. It seemed as if they never wilted. They were meant to make her feel better, but mostly they reminded her of the funeral home after her parents’ death.

She even received get well cards and flowers from the Simmons’, Millers, and Bronsons. Apparently, Tony’s secretary, Patricia, called Sue to apologize; Claire had been so busy recently, and with her accident she hadn’t been able to call, but, she would when she felt better and got the chance.

It made Claire feel so much better knowing that even though she’d almost died, appearances were maintained.

Claire recovered slowly and gradually. Dr. Leonard continued to treat her, coming to the estate every day during the first week after she woke. After that, the length between visits steadily increased. He never questioned her memory again. He did push her to recover. He pushed her to eat, walk, and go outside. He wasn’t the only one pushing. Catherine pushed. She pushed Claire to eat, shower, and do her hair and make-up.

The prompting seemed necessary. Claire would have lain in bed all day if they would let her. The only motivation she possessed was to return to the visions she’d experienced during her unconsciousness. Unfortunately, they didn’t reappear in any of her dreams.

It wasn’t that she felt sad—she didn’t. She didn’t feel scared, and with enough medication she didn’t feel pain. Accurately, she felt nothing. Consciously or unconsciously, she’d compartmentalized everything away. Nothing remained. With each prompt she obeyed. She ate. She walked—with difficulty at first. Her muscles lost tone in just two weeks, and her weight dropped below anything she ever remembered. She showered, at first with assistance and then on her own. She conceded to Catherine’s pleas for hair and make-up; however, every activity tired her. Therefore, sleep became a natural and accepted escape.

The one person who didn’t pressure Claire was Tony; however, he was omnipresent—every day. Catherine told Claire he hadn’t left her side while she was unconscious. Now, he went to work but returned every evening. He spent most of his time in Claire’s suite, sometimes with his laptop, reading a book, talking, always willing to listen, and every night sleeping. While Claire stayed in the hospital bed, he slept in a recliner that was brought to her room. Once she made the transition to her big bed, he asked if he could sleep with her.

Claire said, “Yes, but…”

“I just want to sleep near you, if that’s all right with you?”

Dr. Leonard hadn’t given her the go-ahead on all normal activities. She’d suffered a concussion—which attributed to her unconsciousness and headaches; however, it was her broken ribs that caused the problem. Claire couldn’t lay in certain positions. Her own weight caused intense pain. She knew Tony’s weight would be agony. She didn’t assume she had a choice in his sleeping location and truly didn’t care—as long as she could sleep. He didn’t complain.

Each milestone—getting out of bed alone—walking to the bathroom alone—walking to the dining room—or going into the backyard—received a gift. Some were simple tokens: a book, a journal, or a scarf—apparently very in style this season—but others, like for her first dinner in the dining room—were extravagant. The dining room warranted a new journey necklace, with three diamonds in increasing sizes to represent past, present, and future. The entire carat weight was easily over three. It was remarkable, but Claire missed her grandmother’s necklace. Although she didn’t mention it, she remembered it too had been a casualty of the accident.

It appeared the giving of gifts gave Tony pleasure, so Claire accepted them. The journey necklace representing past, present, and future didn’t bode well. She knew even in her fragile state—she didn’t want any of the represented time periods. The jewelry was so excessive Claire began to think of it as costume—it made accepting it easier. She tried to act happy about the gifts and the attention; however, she felt like his eyes had been—devoid of emotion. There was nothing inside of her.

Catherine knew Claire liked being outside and encouraged Tony to take her out into the yard. The scene didn’t help her state of mind. The blue skies rarely shone, and the green of spring and summer had disappeared—like brown withered leaves blown away in the cool autumn wind. With the foliage gone, the outside was gray. All that remained was the black and white photo of landscape Claire saw when she was first brought to the estate.

One day, while walking the perimeter of the backyard, wearing warm coats and soft gloves, she asked Tony, “Do you have any idea when my debt will be paid?” The question obviously caught him off guard. She witnessed the fluctuation of his eyes—the intensity changing until it finally settled on light brown.

“My dear Claire, the last time you were on your own—which was for only a day—look what happened. I think you need me. I don’t want you to have more accidents.” And then he added, “Do you?”

Remembering to answer audibly, Claire shook her head, looked down and whispered, “No.”

They didn’t discuss her accident. They discussed travel. The idea of leaving the estate frightened Claire. She felt confident she could avoid accidents if she stayed put. Tony said that when she was better he’d like to have her join him while he traveled. He talked about Chicago, New York, Phoenix, San Francisco, and overseas destinations. Claire asked if she needed a passport if they flew on a private jet. Tony said he would have Brent work on getting her one.

On a Saturday, in mid-November, two months after her accident, Claire was technically pronounced physically well. She’d become stronger with time. Her bruises had disappeared, ribs totally healed, headaches less frequent, and she could eat—although she had no appetite. Dr. Leonard visited the estate the day before and released her from his care.

Tony decided they should go on a drive. Claire hadn’t left the property, or even the immediate house, since early September. Faced with the reality of getting into the car caused an explosive and unexpected trauma.

That morning, she obediently dressed in the clothes she found laid out for her, which had happened every day since she was well enough to dress. The sun shone and the temperature felt unseasonably warm. She anticipated going outside, but when Tony announced he had the Lexus out front—Claire panicked. Her reaction was quick and unpredicted. Not wanting to go, she started to cry and shake. For the first time since the accident, Tony pushed. He didn’t ask, he declared—they were going for a drive.

It was the best thing he could do. She needed to get out, but Claire couldn’t think straight. She sat on the front steps and refused to get up. Finally, Tony reached for her arm. She reacted in a way she hadn’t since the first days of her arrival. Her entire body filled with anguish. Violently trembling, she started to scream, “I remember everything! I know the truth! Please do not touch me!”—her torment erupted as her volume increased—“I hate you! Leave me alone!”

He looked at her with disbelief and she stared at him with vengeance.

Her screaming caused Catherine and Cindy to come running. By the time they arrived, Claire’s words were unintelligible, overlapped by sobs and whimpers. She sat on the steps, shaking, holding her knees, and rocking back and forth. Eventually her sobs subsided into freely flowing tears. She didn’t speak as Catherine gently helped her to her feet and calmly walked her to the car.

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They began the drive in silence. Tony didn’t do or say anything. He drove and let Claire cry. It had been two months since her accident. She hadn’t cried or said a word—suddenly it all exploded.

Dr. Leonard had given his clearance. Tony had been patient. Claire knew what he wanted, and she was petrified to be with him again. He drove them to a meadow. She’d never been there before or even seen it. It was very secluded. Claire’s crying subsided. Tony tenderly helped her out of the car, and while holding her hand he offered his overdue apology. “Claire, I’m sorry.”

She looked up at his eyes, they glistened light brown. “You’re sorry? Why are you sorry?”

His tone was remorseful and sincere, “I’m sorry for your accident.” She didn’t respond and looked away from his eyes. He continued, “Yes, I admit what happened that night was me. I admit I lost control—something which doesn’t usually happen. I admit I feel terrible—and Catherine has made me feel worse. I admit I was beyond furious with you and the article by Mere***h Banks. I wasn’t thinking straight.” His eyes were getting darker. “I trusted you. I believed you wouldn’t betray my confidence and then—” His shoulders stiffened and then relaxed. “Claire, I would do anything to have that night to do over.”

They stood by the car, no longer touching. The breeze gently rustled the tall grass, blew wisps of hair around her face, and filled her lungs with the smell of impending winter. Claire watched his expression as he spoke. It had been so long since she’d felt anything. Suddenly, she fought the rapid mixture of emotions stirring inside of her.

*

Tony watched as her eyes, which had been dull and dead. They now contained a small spark.

“Tony, I remember. I remember what you were doing and saying. I remember you saying I would need to be alone for a while—to think about who to talk to and who not to talk to.” Tony nodded his head. He’d said that. Claire’s eyes brimmed with tears. “Is that still coming?”

He reached for her shoulders. He intended to be gentle, but Claire backed away—tripped—and fell onto the ground.

*

His eyes said tender but she remembered anger. She didn’t know what to think or feel. Not feeling was so much easier. Confusion, apprehension, anger, and dread all bubbled up inside of her. From Tony’s expression, they also showed in her eyes.

He followed her to the ground. “Claire, please stop.” He knelt beside her. “No—that isn’t coming. I don’t think you need any more reminders on how to behave, do you?”

Barely audible, she replied, “No—no I don’t.”

“Claire, may I please touch you?”

Her trembling resumed. Sobs again resonated from her chest.

His voice, still gentle was also firm, “You know I don’t need your permission to touch you. I don’t need your permission to do anything.”

Claire’s eyes closed as she tried to swallow her sobs. She nodded her head knowing too well her permission wasn’t necessary.

“But, I’d like to have it. Please, may I have your consent?”

She braced herself and opened her eyes. She looked at him, his expression, and his eyes. She closed her eyes again and meekly replied, “Okay.”

He scooted next to her, sitting on the cold hard ground, and softly placed his arm around her back. She tried to hide the tension, but she couldn’t control her anxiety at his touch. He gently bent down and tenderly kissed her lips, very lightly brushing his lips against hers. She didn’t back away. His mellow tone whispered near her ear, “Have I told you how much I like the highlights in your hair?” She shook her head. He lightly stroked her hair. “I think you’re amazing. You’re so strong and resilient. I don’t deserve your forgiveness for what I did, but you deserve to hear me ask for it.”

She didn’t want to look at him. Her emotions were too raw—she wanted to forgive him.

He didn’t touch her, instead he moved himself in front of her so they were eye to eye. “Claire, I’m sorry I hurt you.” She felt the tears as she tried to maintain eye contact. He gently took her hands. “I ask that one day you’ll consider forgiving me.”

He kissed her hands.

When she looked into his eyes she saw sadness and remorse. The swirl of emotions that had so violently erupted at the estate now settled into her chest. She wanted the sadness to go away. He’d been so patient. He was being so tender. She didn’t forgive him, but she began to respond to his advances. It started with kissing, he kissed her and she began to kiss him. Then she felt his warmth as her hands caressed his arms and shoulders.

Tony bulged with excitement, yet he didn’t rush or push. He stayed compassionate and tender.

“Tony, I’m scared,” Claire confessed.

“I promise I’ll be gentle.” Although she had every reason to not believe him—she did.

“Can we please go home—to a nice soft bed?” He quietly stood and helped Claire to her feet. She took the hand he offered and walked back to the car. This time, she got in willingly.

When they pulled up to the house, Claire leaned over. “I really want this, but please be gentle.”

He parked, walked around to her door, and helped her out of the car. They walked up the front steps hand in hand where only a few hours ago, had been the scene of her hysterics. When he opened the door, he scooped Claire into his arms. Instead of going up to her suite, he carried her to his room. While he held her, she closed her eyes and nuzzled his neck. The aroma of his skin and cologne intoxicated her.

She had never—in all the time she’d been there—been in his bedroom. It was grand—almost royal. The walls were covered with cherry paneling and ornate carpentry. One wall was covered with a large screen framed like a picture—like the one in his office. His bed was massive—tall and larger than a normal king-sized. There were even steps to reach the height of the mattress. He gently placed her on his bed.

She watched as he slowly removed her shoes. Then, he unbuttoned and tenderly removed her jacket, her blouse, and her jeans. He removed his own clothes while she observed his every move. He was gorgeous, and his moves were slow and sensual. He softly kissed her, causing her to lie back. She looked up at the beautiful ornate ceiling. She felt his lips move down her body. They lingered at her neck, at her breast, stopping to lick and suckle her nipples. Claire’s back arched, and she pressed her breasts toward Tony.

He continued to touch her warm body, taste her skin, and inhale her scent.

She hadn’t realized it before that moment, but after experiencing satisfaction routinely, the void of the past two months left her wanting. Her body was now alive—on full alert—with every nerve electrified. He fondled her breasts and gently twisted her nipples. When she moaned in ecstasy, he stopped. “Did I hurt you? I’m sorry. Do you want me to stop?”

She pleaded, “No, God no. Please don’t stop.”

He allowed his lips to move from her breasts to her flat stomach and over her protruding hipbones. As he tenderly spread her legs and kissed her inner thighs, she feared she would explode before he reached his destination. Next, his mouth affectionately awakened her desires. He satisfied every need she’d ever had and ones she’d forgotten. He moved slowly and deliberately, sensual and romantic, compassionately and lovingly.

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He was patient and remorseful. His pleasure came by pleasing her. Now, it was his turn to experience a favorable consequence. His actions had taken everything away—and now his actions brought everything back.

Nothing is more common on earth than to deceive and be deceived.

—Johann G. Seume

Chapter Twenty-Two

‡

The ashtray overflowed with cigarette butts. Samuel Rawls and Jared Clawson sat while Nathaniel Rawls paced. The large polished conference table was barely visible beneath the magnitude of papers. The players no longer worked from the New Jersey office above the textile factory, as they had five years ago. Instead, the view from the conference table or large mahogany desk was now that of Cedar Street in the heart of Manhattan’s financial district.

“Rawls stock is up another five-eighths after heavy trading. The rumors that circulated today about the quarterly report helped with that increase,” Clawson said as he leaned back in the comfortable leather chair, adjusting his suit jacket.

Nathaniel’s track around the large office included peering out toward the NYSE and circling the desk to see the large computer screens which relayed up-to-the-minute stock information. Exhaling a large gray cloud, he asked the question that sat heavily on his and Samuel’s minds, “But what happens when it’s discovered the rumors and reality are different?”

“**** hits the fan”—Clawson smiled—“So—we don’t tell anyone.”

Samuel rubbed his throbbing head. “What do you mean we don’t tell anyone? The quarterly earnings report will be released tomorrow. The investors will find out that our capital is down. That last string of investments wiped out millions.”

“Numbers are funny things. I have a copy here of an alternative report. The numbers are all legitimate, but the information is written with a positive slant.” Clawson distributed the report. The room filled with uncomfortable silence as the two Rawls men read the new report.

“Where’s the original report?” Nathaniel bellowed. Immediately, Clawson pulled the requested pages from the cluttered table. The elder Rawls took the two reports and sat heavily at his desk. Page by page he compared the figures. Samuel and Clawson watched as the tips of Nathaniel’s lips moved from south to north. The telephone rang, breaking the silence. Instead of answering, Nathaniel hit the button on the intercom. “Connie, I said no calls!”

The voice from the box spoke apologetically, “I’m sorry, Mr. Rawls. It’s your personal line. I’ll take care of it.” Immediately, the ringing stopped.

The sight of Nathaniel’s smile had differing effects. Clawson resumed his leaned back position and lit another cigarette. Samuel leaned forward and held his head in his hands. Confronting his father in front of Clawson wasn’t a good idea, but it had to be done.

This whole damn thing was getting out of hand.

It is difficult to know at what moment love begins; it is less difficult to know it has begun

—Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Chapter Twenty-Three

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His head rested on his arm as he listened to her breathing and watched her sleep. The discussion in his head had raged for hours. Sensing her warmth, inhaling her scent, and wanting to taste her lips…the voice of love prevailed.

*

Claire floated in that place before consciousness, having difficulty distinguishing reality from fantasy—unsure of what she was feeling. The epiphany came with the realization—she was feeling. It’d been so long since she felt anything. She felt warm—safe—and secure. Her mind tried to convince her it was a dream, but she remembered feeling the same way before she fell asleep. She questioned herself, is this real? Her soft skin rolled on the silky sheets and felt radiating warmth. Hesitantly, she opened her eyes. Right in front of her—close enough to touch—was Tony’s firm broad chest. Again—questions, is he really here—he usually left her bed before she woke—Why is he still here?—Now as Claire rolled onto her back and saw the beautiful ornate ceiling she wondered, Where is here? This isn’t my room.

With a rich raspy tone, he greeted her, “Good morning, Claire.” His smile revealed the winner of his internal monologue; adoration and love showed through. He leaned down to kiss her forehead.

“Good morning, what are you doing still in bed?” The room was quite dark. “Or is it morning? It’s so dark.” The eyes watching her weren’t.

“I’ve been watching you sleep.” He slid his arm under her back, placing her head upon his shoulder. His hard strong shoulder made the perfect pillow as his arm gently surrounded her warm body.

“Why would you do that? I need a shower and probably look awful.” She buried her face into his chest, allowing his hairs to tickle her cheeks and inhaled deeply. His aroma was exhilarating.

He took her chin, turned her face toward his, and gently kissing her lips. “I’ve been watching you because you’re so beautiful. Your face is flawless”—Claire tried to look away from his eyes. They were light, honest, and real—the candidness made her uneasy—“Please don’t look away. I see you now and think about what your face looked like—what I did to you. I’m not going to keep bringing this up, but I want you to know how much I regret what happened, and to let you know how amazing I think you are. You went through so much. I don’t want anything like that to ever happen again.”

She couldn’t stop the tears from trickling down her cheeks. She wanted to hide her face, but he held her chin firmly. “Tony, I’m glad to know you’re sorry. I’m sorry too.” He let go of her chin, but she continued their gaze as she spoke. “I’m sorry about Mere***h; I really didn’t say anything to her. She walked up and recognized me. Like the article said; we were sorority sisters. I never suspected she was a reporter. She asked if she could join me. I didn’t want her to; then I thought about your rules—about appearances—and I decided telling her no would be rude. I’m sorry I made the wrong decision.”

He rolled her over onto her back. The skin of his chest pressed against her bare breasts. Looking up into his face she saw only a slight darkening of his eyes. His features reminded her of those of a model—prominent cheek bones and strong jaw line. His gaze went on for an eternity before he finally spoke, “I can’t promise I’ll never get upset. I can probably promise I will; however, I promise I’ll do my best to never hurt you like that again, but, I need something from you.”

She assumed it involved gratification, and she didn’t mind. “What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to make me a promise”—Claire raised her eyebrows—“A promise, that you’ll do your best to follow my rules. That you’ll do your best—to never give me cause to hurt you again.”

“Tony, I promise I’ll do my best to make you proud, and I accept your apology. You don’t need to keep apologizing.” Looking at his expression she read a mixture of emotions: gratitude, adoration, and relief.

“Have I told you how amazing you were? I’ve watched you with Dr. Leonard fifty times. You were in such pain. God, even water made you sick, yet you were perfect and made me so proud. I have listened to your answers over and over. I understand his concern. Our story didn’t hold water. I was just so worried about you, lying on the floor, and I couldn’t get you to wake. I had to get you some medical help. I was upset about what I thought you’d done. The longer I waited for you to get home that night, the more betrayed I felt, and I lost control”—Claire saw such honesty in his eyes. It was like a window exposing his soul, one she didn’t think he allowed many people to see—“When you quit moving I realized what happened, and I became more upset about what I’d done. Suddenly, getting you help was more important than appearances”—He gently smoothed her hair—“You had the chance to tell someone about me, and what I did. I deserved that and more, but no, even in your con***ion you were perfect.” He lowered his face to her collar bone. His rough beard growth prickled her skin. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but…”—looking again into her emerald eyes, he continued—“Thank you for giving it to me.”

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When he started to kiss her, her body obediently responded; however, her mind thought about the cameras and surveillance. She knew they were there. Compartmentalize. She had a lot to put away—she needed bigger compartments.

Claire felt his hardness on her leg as his lips moved down her neck to her collar bone. Her breasts pressed upward in anticipation of his mouth, and her nipples hardened as his lips lightly brushed their tips. Trying *****ppress her heated desires, Claire asked for a favor, “Tony, while we’re asking for things, may I have something from you?”

“I have something for you right now,” he said between kisses—inching his way down her body, gently spreading her legs.

“And, I want that.” Claire smiled as she lifted her head to catch his eyes. “But first, can I have a promise?” Tony moved up, kissed her lips, and asked what she wanted him to promise. “You’re right, there was pain, but what haunted me for two months was the threat of you locking me in my suite. Please don’t use my honesty against me. I don’t want to be locked up alone again. It was unbearable. I know you don’t have to, but I’m asking you—please promise you’ll never threaten me with that or do that to me again.”

“Claire, I promise I’ll not lock you in your suite again, and if we each keep our promises, maintaining them all will be easier.”

“Thank you,” she sighed. His promise removed a tremendous weight and allowed her body’s yearning desires to come to the forefront. “Now what did you say about having something for me?”

He gaze held her captive. She felt her cheeks rise and her eyes glow. Despite everything, she knew the smile she exposed was real, and it was exclusively for the man above her. When Tony grinned back, she couldn’t help but notice that his expression was a little more mischievous than it had been. Her entire body trembled in anticipation.

Breakfast was served in Tony’s suite. They ate with wet hair while wrapped in thick soft white robes. Claire’s appetite had returned with a vengeance. She ate eggs, turkey bacon, toast, and fruit. She even thought about hash browns and decided maybe she should tell Catherine she liked hash browns. Tony’s voice took Claire’s attention away from her food. “I have a confession. I think I’m an example of my own rule.” Claire told him she didn’t know what he meant. He explained that although he’s thrilled with the outcome of yesterday’s drive, it wasn’t his goal.

Claire smiled and responded, “Well appearances”—looking at their wet hair and robes—“would say differently.” She used her toe to rub up and down his leg. “I’m happy with the outcome too, but what was your goal?” He told her it was simply to get her to leave the estate to go somewhere. He wanted to get her away before they needed to go somewhere. Claire reflected on the past twenty-four hours. Okay, he did that too. “Why? When do we need to go somewhere? And where do we need to go?” Her toe still wandered.

“If you keep that up, we’ll be late”—Tony’s voice didn’t sound concerned. He glanced at the clock by his bed: 11:17 AM—“Well, we’re supposed to be at Brent and Courtney’s for dinner at 3:30 PM.”

Claire thought a moment, they had four hours. “I really would rather stay here, but I suspect I don’t have a choice. How many people will be there?”

Tony confirmed she was correct—they were going and it would just be the four of them. Courtney had been asking Tony to bring Claire over since the beginning of October. They sent her flowers and cards, they must have known about her accident. Claire liked Courtney, and Tony obviously trusted them. She could do it.

While she thought about the Simmons’ and refocused on her breakfast, her toe was stopped in its exploration and lifted. She gazed toward the sensation and found Tony on the ground—holding her foot.

He slowly put her toe in his mouth and began *****ckle. He watched for her reaction as her brain forgot the breakfast and impending dinner. The slight gasp that escaped her lips brought a devilish grin to his.

She immediately felt the sensation from her toe ignite pulsations elsewhere. His lips moved from her toe—to her foot—to her ankle—and slowly up her leg. When he opened her robe and pulled her toward him, Claire’s body tingled in anticipation. Too soon he gave her unimaginable thrills.

Finding their way back to his bed, Tony supported himself above her lean, blossoming body and with a raspy voice he inquired, “Claire, what do you want?” She looked in his eyes again—still so light and real. He’d never asked her what she wanted. As he kissed her neck, her body responded; her back arched—pressing toward him—silently begging for his touch. He continued, “I want to hear you—no forcing—and no directions. I want to hear what you want?” His desires were clear and rubbing across her thighs.

“I want you,” Claire whispered.

That wasn’t enough; Tony wanted to hear more. “Tell me what you want. I need to know you want it as much as I do.”

“Oh, God, Tony, I want you”—her desires gave strength to her voice—“I want you inside of me”—with her body on the brink of explosion, she implored—“Please—please, Tony, take me.”

As she held tightly to his broad shoulders, her eyes closed, and he fulfilled her desires. Claire wanted every bit of him—every inch—and now that he was there—it was her turn to lose control. Without effort, her body responded to his every touch. There were no thoughts—only carnal desires as he—more than once—elicited earthshaking convulsions. There was no question—this was consensual—and Claire was getting exactly what she wanted—what she’d asked for—and still wanted more.

Tony drove to and from the Simmons’ in one of his Mercedes. It was a great ride from the back when Eric drove, but it was even better from the passenger’s seat—smooth and quiet. Tony tuned the satellite radio to a classical station. The warm car, soft music, and smooth ride almost had Claire napping. Her energy wasn’t at its pre-accident level, and her eyes began to close. Catherine told her one time not to act tired, but she wasn’t acting.

Tony glanced her way and said, “It’s all right. Why don’t you lay the seat back, and I’ll wake you when we arrive.” She did.

They had a good time with Brent and Courtney. Courtney told Claire a thousand times she needed to gain some weight—the unfortunate accident in the woods left her too thin—but she quickly added, “You’re still beautiful.” After the delicious dinner they retired to the lower level; the Vikings and the Packers were playing. Apparently, Brent and Tony were Vikings fans. Claire wondered how she didn’t know that.

While they watched the game and argued with the television, Claire and Courtney chatted. It was nice to talk to someone else. Courtney made Claire feel warm and secure. She didn’t pry, but wanted to know about Claire’s accident and recovery. Apparently, Brent told her how upset Tony had been. He couldn’t believe something like that could happen on his land. Did they ever find out if someone had been out in the woods?

The football game didn’t turn out like the men wanted. Undaunted, they all sipped red wine and played cards. Claire hadn’t played a game in so long. It was truly enjoyable. When they left the Simmons’ home, after 11:00 PM, Courtney hugged Claire, and said, “Now you promise to eat”—Claire nodded—“We’re so happy you’re feeling better.”

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On the way home Tony praised Claire for all she did and said. He also informed her he needed to be in New York the following week. It was up to her if she joined him; however, she may not realize Thursday, of next week, would be Thanksgiving. He couldn’t promise he would be back. He may have to stay until Friday. He’d like her to join him—if she was up to it.

Claire knew the intense therapy of the last two days had helped revitalize her. “I may need naps, but I want to go.”

During the week between the Simmons and New York, Claire made strides in her recovery. It was as if a black veil had been lifted. For weeks—even months—the entire world was gray. The release of suppressed emotions and Tony’s promise removed the veil. The trees were still leafless and the grass still lacked color, but the world was once again alive.

Instead of sleeping to get energy, Claire began moving. First, she walked around the house, then swam in the indoor pool, and enjoyed the hot tub. She even ventured to the theater room, and she made herself watch a movie. It was a musical, Hairspray with John Travolta. She smiled. It was her first trip to the theater room since Tony had taken her there.

Monday evening they flew to New York watching the sky grow dark as they headed east. Eric drove them directly to Tony’s apartment, and Jan waited for their arrival with dinner. From the spectacular view of the seventy-sixth floor, the city vibrantly glistened with lights and activity. They ate in the dining room and watched little cars drive on busy little streets far below.

That night, exhausted from traveling, they settled into Tony’s bed and he handed Claire a black velvet box. Her shoulders slumped. “Tony, please stop. No more black velvet boxes. I have plenty of jewelry. I love it all, but I don’t need it. I feel bad about you spending all this money on me.”

“Well, first, if you haven’t noticed, money isn’t an issue, and what good is money if it doesn’t buy the things I want? Besides, this is a special gift.”

Claire raised her eyebrows.

He continued, “Somehow, with all that’s happened in the past two months, I made an awful mistake”—she feared he was talking about the accident—“I realized it when I was getting your ID and cre*** card.”

Now she knew what he meant; he’d missed her birthday. “It’s all right. I’ve received plenty of gifts lately.” She tried to give him back the box.

“No!” he declared. “It’s not all right. You had a birthday, your twenty-seventh, on October 17.” He firmly, yet tenderly, held her hands with the box in them, while his tone softened. “The other gifts were because of your accomplishments”—and your guilt—Claire added mentally—“This one is for your birthday.”

She looked helplessly at the box. He continued, “Okay, I’m a cheapskate.” With a frisky grin he added, “I’m regifting—again.”

Looking at the box Claire pondered the possibilities of his regifting. Her eyes opened wide as she lifted the velvet lid to reveal her grandmother’s necklace. It looked perfect—absolutely no evidence of the accident it had endured. She beamed at Tony, closed the box, and put it on the bedside stand. Scooting close to him, she rested her head on his chest as her green eyes gleamed with moisture. “I think you’re doing a great job of enticing me to feeling better. I wonder sometimes how I got here.” The fatigue made her head pound. When she closed her eyes moisture escaped as tears onto Tony’s chest. Her shields were down and mask was gone. “I know I’m here because you own me and my debt. Sometimes I feel that way, but other times you make me feel special”—she nuzzled into his warm embrace. Her words slowed as fatigue prevailed—“I don’t know any more if you’re using me or if you care about me, but I know what I hope.”

*

He listened as her words ran together. “I want you to know it didn’t start this way, but I’m willing to do what you ask—not because of my debt—but because I want you to be happy.” She couldn’t give him gifts in black velvet boxes. She could only give herself.

He kissed her hair and tasted her scent, mixed with hairspray and perfume. Holding her soft body against his, he replied, “Thank you—for making me happy.” Caressing her silky shoulder, he wanted her—all of her.

She mumbled into his chest, “Thank you, for helping my necklace, too.” Within seconds her breathing became rhythmic and she drifted to sleep.

Tony watched as her head rose and fell with each of his breaths. “God help me, I do care about you.” Gently pulling her closer, he tenderly moved her hair away from her angelic face. Seeing her sleep—peaceful and trusting—his thoughts of waking her for his desires were quickly replaced. Instead, he held her close, closed his eyes, and joined her in sleep.

Love comforteth like sunshine after rain.

—William Shakespeare

Chapter Twenty-Four

‡

Tuesday morning bustled with activity. Tony left early for meetings and Eric chauffeured Claire to the spa for a highlight treatment. During the two months since her last appointment, she’d barely ventured outside. She needed sun and blonde to maintain her hair. The sun wasn’t going to happen, but the blonde could. Claire agreed to a hair appointment and a manicure but declined other services. The idea of having a massage—someone touching her—made her very uncomfortable.

After her appointment, she had Eric bring her back to the apartment where she rested until Tony returned in the evening. He informed her they had plans for the following evening. He also asked if she went shopping. She explained, “I waited for you here. My head ached and I think traveling wore me out. I was just too tired.” The answers didn’t please him, but he didn’t complain or argue.

Wednesday late afternoon Claire prepared for their plans. She didn’t know what he had planned or where they were going—only to be ready by 5:00 PM. The night before, Tony had looked through the closet and inspected the clothes Catherine packed. After only brief scrutiny, Tony announced that nothing she brought would do for their plans. He wanted her to wear something special—something she chose—and everything brand-new.

Her assignment took her the better part of the day. She left the apartment early in the morning and visited Manhattan, Soho, and the Upper East Side. All of her work eventually paid off—she’d done it. Actually, she’d gotten her new outfit and a few more items. Due to her post accident leaner body, she decided some new slacks, jeans, and sweaters were in order. She refused to even calculate the total of her expen***ures. Tony would know with a click of his computer, but she wasn’t concerned. He liked her to spend money. With Eric available to get her packages, the shopping was getting easier. Her new outfit consisted of a black one-shouldered silk crepe dress with a long-sleeved overlay from a quaint little boutique in Soho. The Valentino bow pumps were a perfect match from Nordstrom’s. The Kate Spade shoulder bag and stretch wool long coat came from Saks. Due to the cool November temperature the associate recommended hosiery. When Claire was shown the thigh-high sheer hose, she knew she’d be able to cover her legs and follow Tony’s rules at the same time. Of the extra items she found, her favorite was a cashmere hoodie—dusty rose—and amazingly soft. It’d be perfect for snuggling up at home with a book on a cold winter day.

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Something about the thought of home meaning Tony’s house perplexed Claire. She decided—it was what it was. As he’d put it, her actions in Chicago resulted in the consequence of needing him to keep her from having more accidents. It wasn’t up for debate. She also knew things could be considerably worse than snuggling with a book, by the fire, in her suite, in her cashmere hoodie, and some comfortable jeans. She did her best to compartmentalize—it made the fire, book, and hoodie all very pleasant.

Tony entered the bedroom as she stood before the mirror wearing a black silk robe and working on her hair. She knew, during her recovery, he’d only visited his district offices via Internet. He’d sent Timothy to do some of his bidding, but his presence had more influence. Some things needed to be dealt with in person. If his mood was any indication, the business dealings were going well.

Her hair was pinned up and she’d been curling the ends when Tony came up behind her and kissed her neck. The contact ignited an immediate fire within her soul. Although her busy day had only allowed a short nap, his kiss sparked her to full alert.

“Good evening, Claire. I trust you were successful today with your shopping endeavors?”

She happily reported that she’d done very well—even finding some extra items.

His grin showed his approval. “I can’t wait to see tonight’s ensemble.”

Claire watched in the mirror as Tony disappeared into the dressing room to prepare for his shower. Seconds later, her insides tightened as he returned to the bedroom completely nude. Momentarily, their eyes met in the reflection. Seemingly distracted from his shower, Tony moved behind Claire, wrapped his arms around her and maneuvered his large hands beneath her flimsy robe. As he caressed her soft skin, he neared his lips to her neck and whispered, “Do you think joining me in the shower would be detrimental to your hair and make-up?” He nuzzled her neck.

She inhaled his intoxicating scent as his chin’s stubble triggered goose bumps on her arms and legs. “I think it would,” she answered, unconvincingly.

“Then perhaps we should plan it for another time?” His hands didn’t obey his words and continued to fondle.

“Or…we could postpone your plans?” Claire closed her eyes, tilted her head against his chest, and massaged his strong arms. As she turned to face him, she smiled at his physical reaction to their proximity. Obviously, he was happy to be near her.

Though his gravelly voice resonated in her ears, it successfully elicited pulsations elsewhere in her body. “Oh, God, I want to, but we have plenty of time for that. Tonight, I have special plans for you.” He slowly stepped back, but before he released his touch, he said, “And, so far you look amazing. I believe I like your outfit now better than the one you bought.”

With her robe now lying in a black silk puddle on the floor, Claire’s cheeks blushed, and she flashed a modest smile. “It’s November. I believe I’d get cold as we walk the streets of New York,” her voice reflected Tony’s playfulness.

“Perhaps—but if I have anything to do with it—cold is not what you would be feeling.”

After a lingering kiss, Claire watched him disappear into the bathroom. Shaking her head, she retrieved her robe and secured the tie. It truly amazed her how he was able to flip a switch and immediately send her entire body into mayhem. Though she tried to concentrate on her breathing and resume her work on her hair, her thoughts continually went to the next room—thinking about Tony’s steamy shower and slippery soap suds.

When Tony re-entered the bedroom, Claire was dressed. His gaze lingered. “I think you look stunning”—his expression didn’t seem to be in full agreement with his words. Lifting the hem of her dress, his fingers traced the top of her new hosiery and his grin broadened—“My! What will they think of next? Very good.” He lightly kissed her lips.

Claire smiled. He was so predictable—well, sometimes.

By the time they reached the front doors of the building Eric had the limousine warm and ready for their adventure. Once in the back of the car, Claire asked Tony about their plans. He would only disclose that their first stop was dinner. The cold crisp night air formed crystals on the windows of the limousine, making the lights of the city shimmer. The crystals seemed to flash rhythmically with intensity mimicking the hum of music coming from the cabin’s speakers.

It didn’t take long, considering the traffic, to reach their destination—the Crown Plaza Hotel on Broadway, in the heart of New York’s theater district. Once inside, Tony directed Claire to Brasserier 1605, a beautiful restaurant bustling with patrons. The hostess immediately ushered them to a romantic table with a stunning view of Times Square. The waiter seemed to know their timetable better than Claire—providing exceptionally efficient service. Tony ordered a bottle of wine—approved a taste—and the waiter poured two glasses. They enjoyed delicious grilled sea diver scallops for their appetizer and seared Atlantic salmon as their main course. Claire thought everything tasted scrumptious. Along with other sensory organs recently reawakened, she had a newfound appreciation for food. She enjoyed the aroma as the plate appeared in front of her, the taste on her tongue, and the texture as she chewed. Tony watched happily as she delighted in each bite of her seafood.

His mood amused Claire. It seemed different—in a positive way. He talked excessively, yet not about anything in particular. She asked when they were going back to Iowa, and he said he did need to have a few meetings on Friday. So, they could leave Friday night or wait until Saturday. Claire felt bad about not being with Catherine on Thanksgiving. She would love to be with John and Emily, but knew better than to ask. Catherine had become her closest family. She hoped Catherine had someone to visit for the holiday.

Tony wouldn’t give hints about their next destination. Being in the Theater District, Claire guessed they were on their way to a show. Smiling, he refused to tell her which one. After dinner Eric appeared to chauffeur them to the Broadhurst Theater. The title on the marquee read The Merchant of Venice with Al Pacino. Claire had heard it was one of the hottest tickets in town. They, of course, had amazing seats. She’d never been a Shakespearean fan, yet in no time at all, she became completely engrossed in the play. By the time it ended she’d laughed and cried. The entire cast’s performances were riveting, taking her to another world for two hours and completely draining her with the range of sweeping emotions. She was ready to go back to the apartment.

Eric waited for them as they left the theater. Tony didn’t ask Claire where she wanted to go next. She assumed they’d be heading to the apartment; therefore, when Eric went another direction she was surprised. They headed north to Fifty-Ninth Street, and Eric stopped at Seventh Avenue, at Central Park.

The cold crisp air awakened her as they moved from the warm limousine to the waiting horse-drawn carriage. The horseman was prepared for the brisk weather with blankets, and Eric supplied mittens and scarves. To keep warm, they snuggled under the blankets, held mittened hands, and observed the beautiful park with lights lining the paths and illuminating some of the trees. The large strong horse pulled the carriage slowly and steadily around the eight hundred plus acres. The methodical trot rhythmically created a cadence for their dialogue. Their noses and cheeks reddened in the cool air as they cuddled, talked, and enjoyed the incredibly romantic setting.

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Gently holding Claire’s mittened hand, Tony spoke honestly with love, “Claire, you know I’ve dated many women.” She said she’d read about some. “There have been women who’ve wanted to date me solely for my money, and I admit to taking advantage of that.” His honesty had her full attention. “You know I’m a private person. Truly there are few people who have seen the real me. There are all sorts of psychological reasons for why I am the way I am. They probably stem from childhood and traumas early in life, but the past is that, and the reasons don’t matter. What matters is that unlike many of my business associates or acquaintances, you’ve met the real me.” That thought made her feel slightly uneasy. “There are sides to me that need subduing. Honestly, I’ve never cared to try, but I do now, and I believe it’s possible.”

She continued to listen. His soft brown eyes held her gaze as he continued, “Claire, the other night you asked me if I cared about you. Honestly—with our initial arrangement—I never intended to, but without a doubt, I do”—she saw something new in his expression—something she didn’t recognize. He asked—“Do you care about me? Do you enjoy being with me?”

Claire considered her answer. Honesty was the best policy, no matter the consequence. “Tony, I do care about you. I want you to be happy, and I would do anything to help that happen, and on a night like tonight, or even a quiet night at home, I enjoy being with you”—she smiled—“more than enjoy”—her emerald eyes shimmered in the cold air—“however, honestly, there are times I don’t. There are times I want you away from me, or vice versa.” She maintained eye contact and watched for his reaction.

He smiled and leaned closer. His kiss was forceful, yet passionate. It wasn’t the reaction she’d expected. The relief overwhelmed her as she kissed him back.

When he pulled away, his tone was sincere, “You are the most amazing woman. I have vice presidents, presidents, and chairmen of boards who have never experienced me as you have. None of them would have the courage to answer that question as honestly as you just did”—she exhaled—“It’s your strength and determination that have infuriated me. That strength and resilience has also made me fall in love with you.”

Perhaps it shouldn’t have been a shock—but it was. He said that he loved her. He had her complete attention, and yet her internal monologue almost drowned out his voice: Love, really? He just said he loves me? Do I love him?

“Claire, I experienced life without you—after your accident. I don’t want to do that again, but I want you to make your own decision. Tonight I would like to present you with two options: your freedom—you may leave tonight and your debt is paid, or”—he removed a diamond solitaire ring from his jacket pocket—“you could agree to marry me and spend the rest of your life with me—not out of obligation or contractual agreement—but because you want to be with me.”

Her heart beat rapidly and her lungs momentarily forgot to breathe. She stared at Tony and at the ring. With only the illumination of the streetlamps she saw the brilliant solitaire diamond. It was surrounded by a delicate diamond border with ad***ional diamonds on the platinum band. She’d never seen anything so beautiful, and Tony was offering it to her. Her mind couldn’t stop spinning. She knew she should answer, speak, say something, but words failed her.

He continued, “You told me yesterday no more black boxes, so I took it out of its box”—he grinned—“could we see if it fits?”

Claire nodded and extended her left hand. Tony smiled as he removed the fuzzy mitten and placed the ring on her fourth finger. She was suddenly glad she agreed to a manicure.

“It seems to fit.” Tony looked into her emerald eyes. “The question still seems to be unanswered. Do you want to keep it on and stay with me? Will you please be Claire Rawlings?”

She weighed her possibilities. He could be the most romantic man in the world. He was incredibly generous with his money, both to her, for whatever she needed, and others—thus much philanthropic recognition. He was the most amazing lover. She’d never in her life experienced sensual highs like she had with him. He was the only person whom she could talk with freely. He knew all about her, because he knew her private information, but—that was the word that haunted her—but he could be dark, mean, cruel, controlling, and sadistic. He was the reason for that private information. “I…I’m so surprised”—she stuttered—“are you seriously asking me to marry you?”

He grinned and bowed his nose to hers. “Yes, my dear, this entire night has been leading to this proposal. I’ve watched you—with me—in private—in public—with my closest friends—and I want you there always. I love you.”

Again, internal debate: Love? He keeps using that word. Love, do I love him? I think I do. When did that happen? Oh my, Claire needed to think about this. The napkin thing happened too quickly, this needed contemplation. “Please”—she implored—“please, let me think. I promise you an answer soon.”

He waited patiently. The carriage steadily moved through the cold crisp air. She saw her breath as she looked at her hand and at Tony. She thought about his patience as she healed from her injuries, about him risking public exposure with Dr. Leonard, about how he made her feel when she saw him walk into a room. Her contemplation took a while. They sat back in the carriage. She rested her head on his shoulder and thought. He didn’t say a word or push. Instead, he waited and tenderly held her hand.

She could decide to leave—and do what? Go back to Atlanta. Did she still have an apartment? He waited. There was a side of him that frightened her, but the idea of living without him—somehow frightened her more. She needed him. He told her that. More importantly, she loved him—she really did. Sometime during the last eight months he’d become her everything. Now when faced with the possibility—Claire couldn’t imagine her life without him in it.

Finally, she answered, “God help me, yes—Tony, I’ll marry you”—he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her tenderly. When their lips separated, Claire confessed—“I love you too.” She watched his eyes glisten with the reflection of the white lights. It was a gaze she could watch forever. As the carriage continued through the park, Claire scooted closer, laid her head back on his shoulder, and looked again at her left hand.

Tony’s voice broke the momentary stillness, “If you don’t like the ring we can look at others. It’s from Tiffany’s. We can go Friday and exchange it.”

“Oh, no! I love the ring, besides you chose it. It’s exquisite. I’m just so surprised.” She thought of something. “Does Catherine know you were planning this?”

Tony said she suspected, but he hadn’t told anyone. He didn’t know her response. “I never go into a meeting that I don’t know the outcome. I’m always prepared for every situation. Tonight I wasn’t sure. You asked about your debt being paid a few months ago. I thought perhaps you would take that option.” He leaned down to kiss her hair. “I can’t tell you how happy I am you didn’t. I know Catherine will be too.”

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When the carriage arrived back at Seventh Avenue, Eric had the limousine warm and waiting. As Tony helped Claire down from the carriage and led her to the car, and he told Eric, “My fiancée and I are ready to go back to the apartment.”

“Yes, sir. Congratulations, Mr. Rawlings, and to you too, Ms. Claire.”

That night after some of the most wonderful lovemaking Claire had ever experienced, she began to consider the reality that she was getting married and that meant a wedding. “I don’t know how to plan a wedding to someone like you.”

“Someone like me?”

“You know what I mean. This won’t be your everyday Indiana or Iowa wedding. You’re Anthony Rawlings. We can’t go to dinner without photographers—a wedding will be a national spectator event.”

He chuckled. “My dear, that’s why there are wedding coordinators and planners—we’ll hire the best. They’ll assist in everything.”

That made Claire feel better. She wondered: if the wedding were a catastrophe; wouldn’t that be a public failure?

“By the way”—Tony added—“how do you feel about a Christmas wedding?”

Her mind went into overdrive. “Christmas? As in four weeks from Saturday?”

“I can’t wait any longer than that to have you be my wife, Mrs. Anthony Rawlings.”

She knew from experience his mind was made up. With queasiness deep in the pit of her stomach, she replied, “I feel that you must hire the world’s best wedding coordinator and planner.”

Claire tried to sleep, but the panic of planning a wedding in four weeks made her suffocate. She lay next to her fiancée and attempted to make sense of everything. Maybe she needed to compartmentalize—one thing at a time: wedding—reception—dress—and maid-of-honor. “Tony, I’d like Emily to be my matron-of-honor.”

He was almost asleep, and his voice sounded far away, “We can discuss it tomorrow. Good night.”

“Good night.”

This is the finest measure of thanksgiving: a thankfulness that springs from love.

—William C. Skeath

Chapter Twenty-Five

‡

They talked into the early morning about the wedding. Therefore, Thursday morning, Claire slept soundly until after 9:00 AM. Sensing she was alone in the big bed, she focused her gaze on her left hand. On the fourth finger was a spectacular engagement ring. Smiling, she marveled at the reality—it wasn’t a dream. She was really marrying Anthony Rawlings. Until last night, Claire hadn’t allowed herself to think of Tony in terms of emotions or endearments. She knew she was having feelings, but she wouldn’t let herself elaborate; however, when he said he loved her—it opened a floodgate. She thought about her feelings and how she missed him when he was gone. How she enjoyed having him around to talk with. How he could make her feel special, and how she thought about him when they were apart. She realized, to her own amazement, she really did love him! She couldn’t contain her smile; this revelation was so astounding!

Claire wrapped herself in a thick long robe and walked downstairs to the dining room. As she approached, the rich poignant aroma of fresh coffee filled her lungs and brought her senses to life. Jan had coffee warm and ready. Tony wasn’t there. When she enquired, Jan informed her, “Mr. Rawlings is in his office. Ms. Claire, if I may? Congratulations.”

“Thank you, Jan. I’m sorry you have to work on Thanksgiving,” Claire offered, as Jan poured her coffee.

“It’s all right, miss. I’m looking forward to having guests this afternoon for dinner. We rarely entertain here.”

“Guests? I’m sorry. If Mr. Rawlings mentioned guests, with the excitement of our engagement, I’ve forgotten. Do you remember who’s joining us for Thanksgiving dinner?”

“I’m sorry. I don’t believe he told me names. I know there’ll be two, and they’re scheduled to arrive at 1:30 PM.” Jan convinced Claire to eat an English muffin and grapefruit. After breakfast, Claire went to Tony’s office door and heard him speaking. She may be his fiancée, but interrupting him uninvited in his office didn’t seem like a good idea. Perhaps some rules would change, but she knew if they did he would choose which rules and when.

Claire went back to their bedroom, showered, and thought about how glad she was she’d bought new clothes. If she needed to be the perfect companion for some business associates, she felt better in well-fitting clothes.

She chose a black pair of wool slacks and a pink knit sweater from Neiman Marcus. The black boots she decided to wear had high heels; Tony wouldn’t seem as tall. Dreamily, she thought about fuzzy socks and her new hoodie—being Mrs. Rawlings would teach her to keep up appearances.

Actually, being Claire Nichols taught her that.

As she straightened her hair, Claire marveled at the new even lighter shade. The auburn showed through enough to be considered low lights, but she was definitely now a caramel blonde. Although Catherine packed many pieces of Claire’s new jewelry, she wanted to wear her grandmother’s necklace and the O earrings Tony brought her from Europe. She shook her head as she remembered the scene in the gardens that seemed so long ago. Once she was completely dressed, she relaxed on the bed and let her mind wander.

I’m going to marry Tony. I’m going to marry Tony in four weeks. I need a wedding dress. I need to call Emily. There are guests coming to dinner. Perhaps after dinner I can approach the Emily subject with Tony. Where will we marry? Who will we invite? Suddenly, a nice destination wedding anywhere, seemed like a good idea.

Her mind went from the wedding to Thanksgiving. She could hardly believe it was truly Thanksgiving. She’d arrived at Tony’s house on March 20. Now she’d be eating Thanksgiving dinner with him and some associates and planning her wedding. She imagined drowning in chocolate sauce, too much of a good thing!

As a means of escape she let her mind float to childhood Thanksgivings. They usually went to her grandparents’ home, where Grandma made all the tra***ional foods. She remembered helping her grandma and mother bake pies. At Thanksgiving they usually had pumpkin, apple, and sometimes pecan and always too much food. Even when she lived with Emily and John, she baked pies and helped Emily with cooking. Part of her wanted to go down to the kitchen and offer to help; however, she instinctively knew it wouldn’t be appropriate.

Claire was somewhere deep in her memories when Tony entered the bedroom wearing slacks and a burgundy ribbed turtleneck sweater that looked wonderful stretched across his broad shoulders and chest. He wore suits so often—Claire liked seeing him in something other than a jacket and tie. He smiled and came closer. “Good morning, my fiancée.” He kissed her lips. “How are you feeling today?”

Claire propped herself up. “Good morning, to my fiancé, I feel well. I was just thinking about Thanksgivings when I was young. Did you eat all the tra***ional Thanksgiving foods when you were young?”

Sitting next to her on the edge of the bed, his eyes darkened. “Claire, don’t talk about the past. We have a future ahead of us, let’s look ahead.”

“I’m sorry, I guess I’m reminiscing”—she touched his arm—“Tony—who’s coming to dinner?”

“First, let me tell you…”—suddenly, his voice brimmed with excitement—“I’ve been on the telephone all morning. Patricia is going to contact Shelly, and a public statement regarding our engagement will be released tomorrow. Also, you have an appointment tomorrow at a very exclusive bridal boutique in Manhattan for a wedding gown. They’re expecting you, the future Mrs. Anthony Rawlings. They want to meet your every need.” He kissed her lips and continued to hold her gaze with his chocolate brown eyes. “I want you to have the wedding and the dress of your dreams. Patricia will also choose a wedding planner and coordinator to meet with us when we return to Iowa. Since Christmas is on a Saturday, the wedding will be December 18, which too is a Saturday. I hope you don’t mind, but with the wedding only three weeks away, I decided to have it at the estate. Now we don’t have to worry about booking a place, and security is already set. We just need to decide how many guests and where on the estate to hold the ceremony and reception. I did reach Catherine. She’s thrilled and told me to tell you so.”

Consequences
Consequences Page 59



Claire felt inundated—information overload! She laid her head back on the pillow and closed her eyes. “Maybe this is all happening too fast.” Tony didn’t say anything, but when she opened her eyes she saw the change in his expression and reached for his arm. “Tony, it isn’t that I don’t want to marry you, I do, but three weeks, that seems very rushed.”

He scooped her into his arms. “I promise you, money can make anything happen. Don’t worry about it. We’ll marry on December 18 and it will be amazing.”

“I just worry about disappointing you.”

“Claire, this is your wedding. I want you to be happy. I also know you’re not back to yourself. I don’t want you to overdo. Just enjoy all the things your money can buy and watch the wedding take shape. It’ll be spectacular.”

“My money can’t buy us a piece of gum.”

He laughed and kissed her. “My dear, in three weeks and two days you’ll be able to buy a gum factory if you want. I want you to share all that I have. You’ll have everything the world has to offer.”

Claire struggled with the meaning of his words. “Tony, I don’t want your money. I haven’t done anything to deserve part of your fortune. I’m happy to share your name—I don’t need any more.”

“My love, you’ve done more than you’ll ever know, and I’m pretty sure you’ll do more.” While he leaned down to kiss her, his hands were busily undoing the buttons on her slacks.

“Don’t we have guests coming?”

“They aren’t due until 1:30 PM. I’m pretty sure we can be successful—multiple times—before then.” He said with a sultry grin, as he removed her slacks. Straddling her legs he removed his sweater and undid his slacks. She watched his seductive smile and his muscular chest as it moved with breaths of anticipation. The scent of his cologne penetrated her senses, and she knew if he bent down she’d be able to taste it on his neck.

“But, Tony—” He put his finger to her lips.

“Shhh…I have better things for those beautiful lips to do than talk.”

They left the bedroom together just before 1:30 PM. As they approached the steps Tony’s stance straightened as he said, “I’m sure you realize, but I’m going to say it for the sake of clarification—just because we’re engaged, divulging private information is still forbidden.”

Claire looked up at his eyes and wondered what he possibly thought she would say to his associates. “I promise, I know that.” They continued to the front stairs, and muffled voices came from the sitting room below. “Now who am I meeting?” As she asked, the voices came into range, her eyes moistened, and she looked to Tony for confirmation. “Is it really them?”

He gently held her shoulders. “Yes, I invited them *****rprise you for Thanksgiving, but now you have even bigger news to share.”

“I can tell them about our engagement?”

He smiled. “Of course, didn’t you say you wanted Emily to stand with you?” She wanted to run down the stairs or cry out, but his grip on her hand tightened. “Claire, follow my rules.”

“I will”—she replied, and obediently fell into step with her fiancé.

When the soles of their shoes hit the marble floor, John and Emily turned toward them. They’d been enjoying the view from the sitting room windows. Her family looked just as Claire remembered—John tall with dark blond hair and playful blue eyes, and Emily with the Nichols brown hair, cut short and sassy, and Claire’s sparkling green eyes. Claire ran to Emily and hugged her.

“I didn’t know you were coming. It’s a wonderful surprise. Oh, Emily, it’s so good to see you!”—Then she hugged John—“And, John! Oh, let me introduce you to Anthony.”

Emily told Claire it was good to see her, too; however, she and John made eye contact, sharing an expression of concern—Claire looked so different. Nonetheless, they proceeded politely as Claire made introductions, “Anthony, this is my sister Emily, and, Emily, this is my fiancé, Anthony Rawlings.” Tony emitted charm as he and Emily shook hands.

“Very nice to meet you, Mr. Rawlings.” Emily’s seemed to slowly make sense of Claire’s words. She looked at her sister quizzically, and asked, “Did you just say fiancé?”

Claire continued with introductions, “And Anthony, this is Emily’s husband—my brother-in-law, John Vandersol. John, please meet my fiancé, Anthony Rawlings.” The two men shook hands and exchanged greetings.

Gracious as ever, Tony said, “Please, we’re about to be family; call me Anthony.”

Claire smiled and they all sat down to chat before dinner. Jan entered the room to offer hors d’oeuvres and drinks. Claire showed Emily her engagement ring and told them about Tony’s romantic proposal in Central Park. John and Emily were speechless—perhaps in shock. Tony was very attentive, holding Claire’s hand, putting his hand on her shoulder or thigh as she rambled on—cautious to not divulge any forbidden or personal information.

During Thanksgiving dinner, Claire learned Emily had attempted to reach Tony around her birthday. Emily didn’t know what else to do. She had no way to reach Claire, and she’d seen pictures of the two of them together in magazines. Apparently, it wasn’t easy to get calls or e-mails through to Anthony Rawlings. Just recently, an e-mail finally reached him, and he called. It was during that telephone conversation—about a week ago—that Anthony invited them to New York City for dinner.

Claire apologized for her inconsiderate behavior. She should have stayed in touch better. Life had been a whirlwind since she started working with Tony. The important thing was that they were together now. Claire asked her family if they were driving home to Troy or staying in the city. John said they decided to spend some time in the city. After all, it was a three hour drive home.

Tony then surprised Claire again. “Well, Emily, Claire has a reservation tomorrow at a bridal boutique in Manhattan. I’m sure she’d love to have you join her to look at wedding dresses.”

Trying not to stare at Tony, Claire looked to Emily. “Yes, I’d love to have you join me, if the two of you don’t have plans.”

Emily looked at John. “Of course, I’d like to help you.”

“Emily” Claire proposed—“I would also like you to be my matron-of-honor. Would you please stand with me at our wedding?”

“You want me? Of course, I will.” Emily sounded cautiously enthusiastic. “But, did you say the wedding will be the eighteenth of December?”

“Yes, it will. That’s all the more reason to find some dresses soon.” Claire smiled at her sister. “Hopefully they’ll have some bright, pink, puffy bridesmaid’s dresses.” Emily laughed.

From her peripheral vision Claire saw Tony’s fleeting expression of disbelief. She turned to her fiancée and smiled. “Tony, it’s a long-standing joke. Emily made me wear a green dress at her wedding. Since pink is my favorite color, I’ve long threatened to have her wear the puffiest, bubblegum pink dress I could find when I married.”

He exhaled and smiled, obviously relieved she wasn’t serious.

Once they finished eating, Tony invited John to the living room for the 4:00 PM football game. He asked the ladies if they’d like to join them, but Emily said she would rather catch up with her sister. Tony kissed Claire before leaving the room. It appeared very sweet, but Claire saw the warning in his eyes.