Chapter Ten
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Standing at the rail of her balcony, Claire stared at the scene in front of her. The rays of moonlight illuminated the yard and tops of the trees, changing the familiar objects to unfamiliar colors. Under its brilliance, the trees appeared black and the grass silver. The multitude of stars glistened as she listened to the sounds of coyotes in the distance. This noise worried her. She thought about the smaller animals in the woods and hoped for their safety.
Although she hadn’t been outside long, the humid air caused her to perspire. She could feel her hair stick to her neck as droplets of sweat rolled down her back. Claire received word—Mr. Rawlings wouldn’t be home until after 10:00 PM and she would dine alone. This was the third night in a row. Last night, he hadn’t come to her suite at all. The night before, it’d only been for a few minutes to touch base. Apparently, things had been extremely busy.
The clock said 11:00 PM when she retreated to the balcony. She hadn’t seen him, or received a message, and wanted to do something—anything. Patience wasn’t a virtue she possessed in her old life. Now as she gazed at the countryside, she knew she was losing what little she’d recently been forced to acquire. She was thinking about how even the air smelled warm when the door behind her opened.
“Oh, hi, Tony, you startled me.”
“I thought perhaps I’d need to search for you again. Then I noticed the drapes.”
“I didn’t know if you were coming tonight.”
He indicated for her to come back inside—she complied. He shut the door. “You didn’t get my message?”
“I did. It’s just later than normal.” Seeing him in the light, she realized he looked tired and thought how he rarely appeared anything but ideal. Things must really be rough with work. She wanted to talk to him about it, but in the past, he didn’t, or wouldn’t, try to explain things.
“I came to let you know I’m flying to New York tomorrow. I have a business deal which apparently will fall apart if I don’t get personally involved.”
“How long will you be gone?”
“Damn it, Claire, I don’t know for sure.” He told her to come to him, and she did. He held her so close that she needed to look up to see his eyes. He lowered his face to her hair. With her head against his chest, she heard him sigh. “This has been a pain-in-the-ass deal. It’s been in the pipeline for years. The time alone has cost me millions, what with research and analysis. Now it seems like everything is falling through.”
Claire didn’t know anything about the deal. She did know this was more than he’d disclosed to her at one time. She wanted to help, to make him feel better. She didn’t want to do anything because he owned her, but because she wanted to. As terrifying as Anthony Rawlings could be when he was strong and controlling, she didn’t like seeing him meek and worn down either. “Tony, is there anything I can do?”
He moved her away, to see her face. “Are you asking me? I don’t think that has happened before.”
She leaned back into his chest. “I want to help you relax before this big meeting.” She stood on her toes and kissed his cheek and neck as her hands unfastened his belt and slacks. She pulled his hand and led him to the bed, where he sat. Claire knelt in front of him, his hands held her face, and she moved toward him.
The entire night, Claire was in control. She did what she wanted, what she believed would help him. Her pace was slow and more thorough. Tony tended to move fast, rough, and hard. Claire moved steadily, softly, and completely. He’d told her exactly what he wanted and how he wanted it for over three months. She knew what he liked. The most surprising part to Claire was that he allowed it. He would sometimes grab her and push, deeper and harder. Then he would allow Claire to take over again.
Lying together in Claire’s bed, Tony surprised her again. “Thank you.” He rolled to face her. “Thank you for giving yourself. You keep me totally amazed.”
They were both almost a sleep when Tony announced, “You’re coming with me to New York tomorrow. You can use that new credit card again while I have my meetings. And after tonight, I may need more of this, depending on how the meetings go.” Claire had a million questions, but stayed silent. Tony continued, “No, I will need more of this, no matter how the meetings go.” They fell asleep.
A little before 6:00 AM, they boarded Tony’s private jet. Catherine woke Claire about 4:30 AM. Since she and Tony fell asleep after mid-night—wake-up came very early. When Claire woke, Tony was no longer in her suite. She showered while Catherine packed her luggage. There would’ve been a time when Claire would’ve been horrified to have someone else pack her belongings for a trip, but today it reassured her. Catherine seemed to know exactly what Claire needed and when she needed it. Allowing Catherine to take care of her needs had become second nature.
Claire’s light yellow slacks and a flowing white blouse were laid out. She obediently put them on. Her luggage was packed. She had a new Prada purse containing her wallet, ID, and credit card, as well as cosmetics, tissues, and other needed items. Carlos came to her suite to take her belongings down to the waiting car.
Before they left Claire’s suite Catherine informed her she would be staying with Mr. Rawlings at his Manhattan apartment. And although she may be tired this morning, do not let it show, she must maintain appearances. Mr. Rawlings would be off to his work as soon as they arrived in the city, she would then be able to rest at the apartment. Claire nodded her understanding.
While Eric drove them to the local private airport, Tony spoke more directly and less compassionately than the night before. “You’ll be at my apartment while I’m working today. Eric will drive you there after he takes my associates and me to our meeting.” Claire smiled and said that was fine. She didn’t have a choice. She knew that, and so did he. “Upon reaching the airport, we will be met by Brent Simmons, the head of my legal team; Sharon Michaels, his associate; and David Field, one of my lead negotiators. They’ll join us on the flight to New York. I’ll introduce you. Brent is already aware of you. Once we board my jet, you’ll sit away from us while we begin our preparations.”
Claire said she understood. “Tony, I don’t want to get in the way. I’m here because you want me to be.”
“Yes.” He was looking at his iPhone, which had just buzzed. “That’s true. It’s my choice, and I want you here. I believe your presence will benefit me.” He became engrossed in his texting.
Benefit him? Why couldn’t he just say “I want you here”? Her stomach tied in knots as she wondered what Brent Simmons knew about her. Did he know what she did? Did he think she was a companion or an employee or worse? As they rode in the backseat of the Mercedes Benz, Claire decided this was time for a mask. Finding it through all the apprehension surging through her mind was difficult, but she did, and put it on.
Claire didn’t know what to expect from a private jet. On the outside it seemed smaller than she anticipated. Once they climbed the steps, she was pleasantly surprised by the spacious interior. To her left was the door to the cockpit and to her right was an open space with a table and four chairs. Beyond was a sofa along one wall facing three reclining chairs along the other. Everything was secured and contained seat belts like you would expect on a plane. The chairs and some of the walls were luxuriously covered with white leather and accented with wood like trim. There was additional space behind the far wall. Claire guessed that it contained a bathroom, maybe more.
Tony introduced Claire to his associates and motioned for her to take a seat on the sofa near the wall. Everyone was polite and friendly. She went to the sofa as she was told. Tony, Mr. Simmons, Ms. Michaels, and Mr. Fields sat around the oval table. Eric joined them on the plane after loading their luggage into a compartment below. Surprisingly, he sat in the copilot’s seat. His talents suddenly impressed Claire—obviously, the world’s most versatile chauffeur.
Claire watched and listened as Tony and the others discussed the impending deal. She honestly didn’t care about the deal other than its impact on Tony. She liked to watch him work—his expertise, intelligence, and control. He respected the knowledge and wisdom of his associates, asked questions, and listened intently to their responses and opinions. With that said, Claire knew when the time came for decisions the only opinion that mattered would be his.
After they were in the air and the discussion at the table became mundane, Claire thought about napping and remembered Catherine’s advice. To stay awake, she looked in her purse—another treasure hunt. First, she opened her wallet. Staring back at her was her picture from her Georgia driver’s license. She read the identification card and saw her Atlanta address. Compartmentalize. Her picture didn’t look like her. The picture was taken two years earlier and her face had changed: slimmed, tanned, and just changed. Her height, five four, was the same; her weight, one hundred and twenty-five, was closer to actual. That hadn’t been the case four months ago. The listed weight was accurate when she was sixteen and like with everyone else it had inched up through the years; however, now it seemed accurate if not erroneously high. Next, Claire spotted the American Express platinum card with Claire Nichols embossed on the front.
When Tony first gave Claire the card, she didn’t want to use it. She thanked him for the confidence and faith and tried to explain there was nothing she needed. She had all the clothes she could possibly wear. She actually had many she’d never worn. Food came to her three times a day and she had a roof over her head. She had no interest in jewelry; having her grandmother’s necklace was all she wanted. She loved to read, but so far the library contained more than she could hope to read.
Tony wouldn’t accept any of her excuses. He told her to ask him when she wanted to go shopping. She didn’t ask. After a week, he apparently gave up. One evening, over dinner, he proclaimed, “Eric is taking you into Davenport tomorrow to shop.” Claire remembered suddenly feeling ill. She didn’t speak at first and only stared. “Claire, did you hear me?” He knew she did; he wanted verbal confirmation.
“Yes, Tony, I heard you. I thought we discussed this and decided I have no pressing need for anything.”
“I’m pretty sure we discussed it, and I said you’re going—tomorrow.”
“But, don’t you need Eric tomorrow?”
His eyes darkened as his tone slowed, “Are you arguing? You were a confident woman when I met you. You’ve learned your lessons well. You need to get out in the world, and for the record, this conversation is now over, unless you feel it would be beneficial to argue?”
Claire wanted to complain and explain that she worried about the Charles Jacksons of the world; however, she’d made that mistake before. She swallowed. “What time does Eric need me to be ready?”
The trip to Davenport was unnerving. Eric picked Claire up in a black BMW. She sat in the backseat feeling awkward without Tony. Driving away from the house, she told herself Tony was right. She had been a confident woman, and besides, one day she would be leaving here. She also knew the truth. This was a test to determine if she could be trusted out by herself. She’d learned from earlier glitches the best way to pass a test was to avoid it. Tony made it clear—avoiding this was not an option.
Eric took her to the River Walk Shoppes, higher-end boutiques in the Quad Cities. She entered each shop and took her time looking around. At first, her senses were on high alert, afraid of everyone that approached. She soon realized no one paid that much attention to her. The clerks were attentive and she was shown everything and anything she wanted. People didn’t browse these shops if they couldn’t buy.
Claire saw no reporters. No one stared or asked questions. By the time she made it down the street to a small coffee shop she felt better about her outing, and even drank coffee sitting at an outside table. She sipped the aromatic rich brew and watched people as they rushed down the sidewalks. She missed being around people; however, the idea of speaking to anyone frightened her. What if she said something wrong?
By the time Eric returned to pick her up, she found a few books on butterflies and some casual clothes for her busy event-filled days. It wasn’t a lot, but she did what she’d been told to do and honestly enjoyed it.
Tony seemed disappointed that she hadn’t bought more, but also pleased she’d done as he instructed. He then expected her to give him a fashion show of her finds and suggested next time she buy some items he would like too. That meant fashions with much less material.
Once the jet landed the five of them entered a waiting limousine. The four continued to discuss their impending meeting. Claire sat silently listening—trying to go unnoticed. It was 9:20 AM and their meeting was to start at 10:00 AM. Eric rode in the passenger seat next to the driver. In no time they were in the throes of New York City grid-lock traffic. The car traveled in short, accelerated movements.
Claire experienced this traffic from the back of a taxi when she lived with Emily and John and knew it could stifle travel and wreak havoc on schedules. Tony didn’t seem concerned. Their car pulled up to their destination with minutes to spare. The four associates got out and proceeded through the big glass doors. Claire found herself alone in a large limousine. She didn’t know where she was going or how long she would be there. Her life was no longer in her hands, and she was somehow coming to terms with that.
Peering around the marble floored foyer, Claire knew his apartment wasn’t like any she’d seen before. Her anxiety eased with the housekeeper’s warm greeting, “Ms. Claire, welcome. My name is Jan. Let me show you to Mr. Rawlings’s room. We’ll put your belongings in there and show you around.”
Claire thanked Jan and followed her up the ornate staircase which ascended to a railed landing on the second floor. The apartment included a massive sitting room complete with fireplace, a dining room, a kitchen, and an office on the first level. Claire called it the first level, but in actuality it was seventy-six stories from the ground. The sitting and dining rooms had floor to ceiling windows looking out over the city and toward the water. She’d spent many days and nights in New York City but had never seen a view as spectacular as this.
Tony’s bedroom was large and decorated in dark masculine colors. A large high bed with a leather headboard and complementary leather furniture filled the room. Jan carried Claire’s hanging bag, and two other staff members assisted with the rest of their luggage. Once things were put away Jan asked Claire if she would like some lunch or if she would rather rest. Claire decided a little lunch before a nap would be good.
Tony arrived at the apartment at about 7:00 PM. He wasn’t alone. Brent Simmons was with him. They arrived conversing about something that happened during the day. Their conversation continued into the dining room, where they opened briefcases, laptops, and resumed their debate. Jan asked Mr. Rawlings if he would like dinner. He told her to just bring them something they could eat while working.
Claire hoped for a night out under the New York lights. Instead, she settled for dinner alone in his bedroom and a night with her book. Wearing a black silk nightgown, she fell asleep before Tony ever made it to bed, and he left before she awoke. If the covers on his side weren’t rumpled, she wouldn’t have known he’d been there.
In the morning she found a note next to the bed:
Eric is available to you all day. Have a good day in the city. Be back by 6:00 PM.
Don’t disappoint me.
There was also cash, with a separate note:
For tipping, remember—appearances!
Okay, she thought. I’m stuck in New York. I might as well enjoy myself.
After her shower, Jan served her a wonderful breakfast and promised to notify Claire as soon as Eric returned from taking Mr. Rawlings to his office. By 10:00 AM, Claire sat in the back of the limousine with Eric driving her to some shopping therapy. She decided if Tony wanted her to shop so badly, this definitely was the place to do it. She always enjoyed shopping in New York City, but this would be a new experience. The vastness of the city, along with the quantity of people, gave Claire the feeling of anonymity—something she didn’t have in Davenport. No one would even notice her here. She could do as she pleased.
“To Fifth Avenue and Fifty-first Street, please,” Claire instructed.
Eric didn’t hesitate. Claire decided she’d busy herself with Versace, Prada, Bendel, and Louis Vuitton for at least four or five hours. Eric gave Claire a card with his cell phone number and explained that she needn’t worry about carrying any purchases. Tell the clerk to call him, her driver. He would pick up everything she bought. He dropped her off near East Fifty-First and Madison and promised to pick her up near the Plaza Hotel at East Fifty-Eighth Street at 2:00 PM. At that time, he would be happy to take her to her next destination.
Claire stepped from the car. Her high-heeled sandals hit the concrete and her chiffon sundress blew slightly in the breeze; she felt like a model doing a magazine shoot. It didn’t seem real. She kept telling herself, Play the part. The summer heat radiating in waves off the pavement and the sounds of the city invigorated her as she fought the crowds of people along the sidewalk.
First, she entered Versace. The ornate limestone facade with the large glass doors, and an unlimited amount of money in her purse gave her a rush of adrenaline. It felt different from exercise. It was the strange sensation that she could buy anything and everything she wanted. She did her best to feign the image of someone accustomed to spending. It didn’t take long before she believed it as much as the store’s associates.
She tried very hard not to notice prices as she chose dress possibilities. She liked a cotton pique sheath dress and a gathered bodice sheath dress. They accentuated her trimmer figure. As she looked at herself in the mirror, she judged her image by would Tony like this? She decided he would. According to the associate she also needed shoes. When all was said and done, and she paid for her two outfits, she almost lost her composure. The associate smiled and said, “That will be thirty-six hundred and fifty seven dollars. Would you like to place that on an existing account?”
Claire worked diligently to keep her mask intact, despite the dramatic increase in heart rate, she replied, “No, I’ll pay for it now and my driver will pick it up. Let me give you his number, and he’ll work out the details.” She handed the associate her American Express.
“Thank you, madam, I’ll be glad to take care of that for you.” She rang the transaction. This kind associate definitely needed a tip, appearances.
Claire preceded north, next stop Cartier. She was determined to make it back to the apartment with items to show Tony. She decided on a nice little pair of sunglasses for only five-hundred dollars. She thought about the ten dollar sunglasses she wore all four years of college. Her shopping adventure continued. The crowds of people talking, the cash registers ringing, the smells of exhaust, the sights of tall buildings as she looked up to the sky, all worked together to create the feeling of elation.
By 1:00 PM, Claire was exhausted. She purchased a few dresses, some shoes, a few new lingerie items, and sunglasses. She successfully spent over five thousand. It truly seemed ridiculous, but she was determined to make Tony proud. She didn’t want to shop anymore. She stopped at the Trump Tower, less than two blocks from her pick-up destination, for lunch. She’d been there before and remembered the Trump Café. The people and beauty of the glass caught her attention as she entered the atrium, but her mind focused on food.
In the past four months she hadn’t made one decision about food. Now, she salivated at the idea of ordering anything she wanted. There were even desserts. She took a few minutes wandering around the cases—so many choices. The aroma from the grill caused her to think of hamburgers in the summertime. She could almost taste the foods as she inhaled their delicious scents. She silently debated her options.
Claire found a table near the window and ate her spinach salad, iced tea, and yogurt. It was still her choice but eating healthy made more sense. She ate and watched. New York had always been fun, and even today, by herself, she found it fun. She glanced at her watch, 1:40 PM. She finished her lunch and walked toward the Plaza Hotel. Tony wouldn’t be waiting, but Eric would, and she didn’t want Eric to tell him she was late.
When Eric pulled the car to the curb, Claire was ready; however, she waited for Eric to park, get out, and open her door. She’d learned to perform her part well. Once back on the road, he inquired as to the next destination.
“I believe I’m tired and would like to go back to the apartment. Oh, did you pick up my purchases?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Eric replied, and continued to explain that they were in the trunk. He would have someone take them to Mr. Rawlings’s room immediately upon arriving at the apartment.
Claire sat back, closed her eyes, and let herself be taken back to Tony’s apartment. It wasn’t until she was almost back that it occurred to her—Emily and John were only three hours out of the city. She could get there by train. If she had Eric drop her off near a station, she could get to their house and be back in the span of a day. She used to ride the train all the time. No one would ever know. She couldn’t do it today, but excitement brewed as she began to work out the details in her head for tomorrow.
Napping soundly on his large bed, late in the afternoon, Tony’s voice brought Claire back to reality. “We did it! The deal is complete.”
She pushed the sleepy fog from her mind and tried to concentrate on his words. “That’s great. I’m happy for you.”
“I believe a celebration is in order!” Smiling at his enthusiasm, Claire began to get out of bed.
“Where are you going?” His intimidating tone narrowed her focus.
She watched his accomplished expression quickly morph into a new menacing gaze. Claire felt a chill, despite the warmth of the blankets. “I thought you wanted to celebrate. I need to dress.”
“Yes, you do, but first, you need to undress.” Tony removed his Brooks Brothers suit jacket and silk tie, allowing them fall to the floor, and unbuttoned his shirt. “Our celebration will begin here.”
Claire hadn’t expected him to return this early and was napping in shorts and a camisole. Her instincts told her the vigor and energy acquired from his successful business dealings would be unleashed here and now. Thankful she’d napped, she obeyed and removed her shorts and top.
Apprehensively, Claire watched as Tony approached. His clothes created a trail from the doorway to near the foot of the bed. Adjusting her eyes to the dim light, she beheld his completely nude body. She’d been groggy when he first entered the room, but something about his demeanor alarmed her, like the warning rumble of thunder indicating an imminent storm. Now, fully awake, her body quivered. Coming toward her, she beheld his wide chest, defined, and covered with dark hair, his trim abdomen, his narrow hips and waist. There was a light trail of hair, leading to where…Claire could plainly see he was ready to celebrate. Everything about his presence said power.
She steadied herself as Tony pushed his body against her petite form. Moving fast and rough, he pulled her into his embrace. Forcibly engaging her lips, she tasted coffee and attempted to slow his actions—trying to control his explosion of energy. It was a matter of momentum. Claire was helpless to slow this force of nature. Her only defense was to move with it. Anticipating his actions, she expected to be lifted onto the bed. Instead, he turned and pushed her to the bed. Her cheek felt the softness of the satin covered, down comforter. His plans were unexpected, and he hadn’t prepared her. She stifled the urge to cry out in pain, as her fingers gripped the cover, forming fists. Dominating, Anthony Rawlings showed no meekness, only total control.
His voracious need was only momentarily satisfied; he instructed Claire to kneel, held her head and dictated her movements until he was ready again. Insatiable, the afternoon went on and on. He took his time. His authoritative tone resumed, as did instructions and directions. Eventually, he led her to the shower. They needed to get ready to go out. The soap, the multiple shower heads—he continued.
Finally, gratified—Tony took shampoo and began to wash Claire’s hair. After ravaging her body, he reverently caressed her chestnut trusses. Suddenly, his movements were tender and gentle. Outwardly, she responded appropriately, but inwardly she burned with loathing. One day she wanted to help him, to be with him, the next he treated her like a whore. It made her furious and her heart ache, but she stopped the tears. He’d already taken too much. She wasn’t giving him those too.
That night, dressed in a sleek black strapless dress with black heels, Claire was escorted by Tony to Daniel, a four-star restaurant in Manhattan, located on the Upper East Side. It was known for its elegant ambiance and delicious French cuisine. En route, Tony reminded Claire about his rules: do as she was told, keep up appearances, and the severity of punishment for public failure. Perhaps he sensed her unspoken revulsion and her overwhelming desire to flee, and he felt the need to reiterate the consequences if she tried.
When they arrived to Daniel, they went to the lounge where Tony ordered cocktails. They sipped drinks while Tony chatted about his amazing rescue of this sensational deal. Claire felt like she was spending the evening with two different men. He could chastise her in one breath and be refined and charming in the next. While talking about his deal he said he didn’t like to talk about money, but today he made more than most people do in an entire lifetime, quoting, “Hell, more than most families do in their lifetimes.”
When the ma?tre d’ informed them their table was ready, they moved to the exquisite dining room. Again, Tony ordered their meal. Claire’s attention was completely centered on him. He required that—maintaining appearances. That evening, Claire discovered Tony spoke French. Since she did not, she didn’t know what was said to the waiter. When the bottle of wine arrived, after sipping on cocktails, Claire tried unsuccessfully to hide her surprise. Tony explained, “This is a special occasion.”
The waiter poured a small amount of wine into a glass and offered it to him. He approved and two glasses were poured.
If the prelude hadn’t been so tempestuous, the dinner would have been more pleasurable. Claire remembered Tony saying he didn’t approve of alcohol because it diminished the senses. Currently, feeling her body, head, and heart ache, she welcomed the diminishing effects. Of course, she didn’t show her uneasiness with the return of the Anthony Rawlings she’d known. She obeyed the rules and remained the perfect companion.
On the way back to the apartment, Eric drove them around Manhattan to enjoy the lights, sights, and sounds. New York City was truly spectacular, and it had been so long since Claire had experienced so many people and so much energy. If Tony weren’t running his hand up her thigh—it would have been more enjoyable.
Tony informed her they would return to Iowa in the morning. As they were about to fall asleep, he asked about shopping. Her body exhausted, her head spinning from the alcohol, she replied, “It was nice…may I please show you the purchases in the morning?”
They both fell asleep.
We shall draw from the heart of suffering itself the means of inspiration and survival.
—Sir Winston Churchill