Chapter Six
?
Her eyes didn’t open until she heard the door and her breakfast arrive. It usually came after she awoke. Looking at the clock, she saw that it was 10:30 AM, the latest she’d slept since her initial arrival. The young lady with the food apologized, “I’m sorry, Ms. Claire. I know you were still asleep, but Mr. Rawlings would like you dressed and in his office by noon. Catherine said you need to eat.” She handed Claire her robe as she got out of the bed.
“Is Mr. Rawlings working from home again today?” Claire’s head pounded and body ached. This was way too late for coffee, and perhaps the activities of yesterday were affecting her.
“Miss, today is Sunday. Mr. Rawlings is usually home on Sundays.” The young lady left the suite. Claire made a mental note: Watch out for Sundays.
Timidly, Claire approached the mirrors in the bathroom. Lowering the soft robe, she saw long red stripes on her back and new bruises. She didn’t cry; instead, she steamed with anger. Of course, it was directed toward him but also at herself. She wanted this nightmare to end, but she couldn’t figure out the solution. Claire wasn’t accustomed to the feeling of helplessness, and she didn’t like it. Her only solution was to remain resolute until an opportunity for escape arose.
At 11:57 AM, Claire knocked on Anthony’s office door. The door opened, and he looked up from his desk. “Good afternoon, Claire.”
Smiling respectfully, she replied, “Good morning, Anthony. I believe it’s still morning.” Claire walked into his office and stood before his desk, the same place where twenty-four hours earlier had been the terrifying scene of his rage and domination. With her back straight, chin high, and smile plastered on her lips, she looked at his eyes and wondered who he would be today.
The blouse she chose and her make-up covered the visible signs of the prior day’s happenings. Anthony sat quietly and studied her. The silence made her uncomfortable. She prayed he couldn’t hear her heart beating too fast or notice her wet palms. Long ago, she learned that awkward silences were an interview technique. She wouldn’t be the one to break the silence.
Finally, he said, “I believe you are correct, for another two minutes.” Anthony’s eyes seemed lighter, so Claire breathed easier and smiled. She was on time. He continued, “Lunch will arrive here in a few minutes. I thought we would discuss some of the glitches that our business deal has encountered.” He stood and moved toward Claire.
She kept her ground, neck straight, and watched as he circled the grand desk. He stopped only inches away. She inhaled his fragrant cologne and tilted her neck upward to see his face. He didn’t speak but indicated with a gesture that they move to the conference table where he pulled out a chair for her to sit; she did. He sat at the head of the table with Claire to his right. The room was silent as Claire thought to herself how his gentlemanly behaviors were such a farce.
With her smile still intact, Claire asked, “Glitches? I’m not sure what you’re referring to.”
*
Before responding, he sat back and contemplated Claire Nichols. Her eyes contained an intense fire. She had more daring than half of the presidents of his many companies. After what he put her through, he couldn’t help but be astounded.
“I wasn’t sure you would come here today.”
“I wasn’t aware I had a choice. I believe my job duties include doing as I’m told.”
“That’s correct.” He chose his words carefully. “Perhaps you can be trained.”
*
Claire’s mouth twitched, but she stayed steady. Getting upset would only accomplish losing control. By losing control she would be giving it to him. He may take it, but by God, she wasn’t giving it. “I’m trying my best. Now glitches?”
A knock came as the door opened and their lunch arrived. They sat in silence as the young lady placed their food in front of them and asked Mr. Rawlings if they needed anything else. He informed her they were currently fine. She retreated from the office and closed the door behind her.
“Glitches, yes—I spent 215 thousand dollars for a business deal. I make deals that will be lucrative to me. I expected a better return for my money than I’ve experienced in the last three weeks.”
If this was supposed to shock Claire, it didn’t. She casually picked up her fork, ate a piece of broccoli, and responded, “I would believe that yesterday you successfully increased your return.” Stabbing another piece of broccoli, she added, “Besides, wasn’t it you that decided your business holding would be locked away for almost two weeks?” She ate more broccoli. Part of her feared retaliation, but the other part believed he appreciated the bravado.
“That is true, and after what I’m currently witnessing, I’m considering the possibility that it was worth it.” He watched her expression as he spoke. “And we have no deadline for completion of our contractual agreement.”
Claire didn’t know if she should be happy that he seemed impressed. She did think an estimated timeline would be nice, but she didn’t mention that either. Instead, she said, “Then apparently, the glitches have been resolved.” She felt she appeared respectful enough to avoid confrontation, but impertinent enough to demonstrate resilience. The light brown gleam around his irises, somehow told her he wouldn’t explode. She would learn to read him. They continued to eat.
Claire let Anthony do most of the talking. He discussed more of the house rules. She could roam the house; however, in anticipation of more glitches, she was not permitted to go outside or consider leaving the property. His office and the corridor of his suite were off-limits. Her schedule would be hers for most of the day—unless told otherwise by him or Catherine. He didn’t work from home that often, but when he did she would be required to be nearby and available at all times. On days he went to the office, his only requirement would be that Claire be back in her suite by 5:00 PM to receive evening instructions. He was a very busy man and wouldn’t be home every evening to dine with her; however, on the nights he intended to be home, she would receive instructions for time of dinner, apparel, and other plans he may have. If he were in town, she would receive instructions as to his intentions regarding visiting her suite and the estimated time of his arrival. Claire verbally responded to all of his rules.
The young lady with the food came back to clear the dishes and brought a carafe of coffee with two cups. Claire’s headache was improving with food, but more coffee would be helpful. Anthony told the young lady that he and Ms. Claire would be having coffee on the sun porch. She thanked him and left with the coffee. Claire didn’t remember a sun porch from the tour.
Walking beside Anthony, they left the office. Located in the rear of the main section of the mansion, through the archways behind the grand stairs, and past the sitting room, they stepped down into a room made completely of glass. Claire felt faint as her eyes adjusted to the sunshine and she inhaled the fresh spring air. The room was decorated with brightly cushioned rattan furniture as well as tropical plants. Anthony sat on a loveseat and Claire on a chair. The sides of the room were opened to allow a cool fresh breeze. Her bogus composure disappeared as the sensation of the fresh spring air blew her hair and she listened to the faint sounds of nature.
When she was a child, her dad, a policeman in Indianapolis, knew how much Claire loved the outdoors. Each spring he’d take her to one of the many state parks. They would spend the weekend together hiking, fishing, talking, and wandering. Her grandfather, his father, had been FBI. It was ingrained in them to be cautious. On those weekends he let Claire believe she had control over their plans and the direction of their adventures. Remembering their activities she smiled, knowing he did most of the steering and all of the protecting. The aroma of the fresh spring air brought the memories of those adventures soaring back to Claire’s consciousness.
Just off to the side of the sun porch Claire saw a large pool. The water was covered with a large tarp, furniture was absent from the deck, and fountains were nonoperational. Though not in season, it definitely held potential for a wonderful place to spend her Claire time once the weather warmed.
As they sat and sipped warm coffee with a cool breeze, Anthony informed Claire that he’d be leaving for three days on a business trip. His businesses were located all over and traveling was an important part of his work. He would leave later in the afternoon as his meetings were scheduled to begin very early in the morning. He did plan to be home Wednesday evening, and she would be informed if his plans changed.
“Anthony, what do you do?”
“Do you truly not know who I am?”
It frightened her to bruise his ego, but erring on honesty was always best. “I’m sorry if I should, but I don’t. I thought at first that your name sounded familiar, Anthony Rawlings, but I’ve tried for over two weeks, and I admit I don’t know.”
He leaned back on the loveseat and offered a brief autobiographical synopsis. He called himself a businessman who had built his fortune from nothing. The beginning of and bulk of his success came with the Internet; he and a friend created one of the first Internet search engines. He later bought out his friend’s part of the company, diversified his holdings, and has done pretty well.
Claire chuckled. “You made your fortune, because this”—looking around the vast expanse of his mansion—“is more than doing pretty well, with the Internet? And the only technology in your home is in your office?”
“Perhaps I want my home to be an oasis from my business life.”
Claire pondered that for a moment. “I understand. My grandfather and my father were both in law enforcement. They saw things that people should never see. Sometimes my grandfather would be gone for months at a time doing undercover work. Actually, I remember a story from when I was young, where he was gone for around two years. My father was home each night, but anyways, my dad didn’t want home to be anything like work. I couldn’t even watch COPS on TV. I think it was like you were saying—an oasis.”
Anthony went on to ask about Claire’s family. She said her grandparents passed away before she graduated high school. Her parents were tragically killed in a car accident during her junior year of college. She did have a sister and brother-in-law in New York State. Fleetingly, she wondered when she would talk to Emily again. With the breeze and the sound of birds, Claire casually went on talking. She asked Anthony about his family. As soon as her question left her lips she saw his eyes darken. She calmly added, “But if you don’t want to say anything, I don’t need to know.”
Perhaps it was her quick observation or the realization that she could read him, but his eyes lightened. “My parents are also gone. It was an accident when I was twenty-four. I have no siblings, and my grandparents are also gone.” The serenity returned as they both offered each other sincere condolences at their loss.
Claire’s coffee was gone and she didn’t know what else to say or discuss. She could see Anthony watching her as she stared out to the pool area. Beyond the pool was the backyard. The corner of it could be seen from her room but not the pool or porch. Past the yard were trees. From the second story she knew they went on forever, but from this vantage, they created a gray veil surrounding the yard. Soon little starts of green would transform the bleak veil into a colorful curtain. Claire really enjoyed spring.
Anthony excused himself, saying he needed to prepare for his trip, and informed Claire she was welcome to stay on the porch or go elsewhere in the house. He would look for her before he left. He smiled what appeared to be a real smile. “I’m pleased that the glitches have been resolved. I have plans for our agreement.”
The smile seemed right, the unspoken portion of his statement made Claire shiver. After he left, she looked down at her arm and saw the goose bumps that rubbed her sleeves. She told herself they were caused by the breeze.
Claire returned to her suite recognizing that with the ability to roam she didn’t feel the need. Besides, she was tired. Sleeping late can do that to a person; however, her gut told her yesterday’s glitches were more likely the cause of her fatigue and her aching body. She contemplated a nice long bath in her beautiful garden tub as she entered her room.
On the bed, laid out so she could see each one, were multiple bathing suits: one-piece suits like she wore in high school swim class and bikinis that would be perfect for the sun. She liked the styles but wondered if they would fit. Of course, they would, hadn’t everything else? She had to wonder how a promise made Saturday morning could be so quickly fulfilled on a Sunday, seemingly far away from anywhere.
Anthony told her that she would have bathing suits tomorrow. Apparently, he was a man of his word. That earned him one on the positive column. The negative column had more tallies than Claire could count.
Peeking out from under the white cover up was a wrapped gift. It was a small box wrapped in white paper with a gold foil ribbon. Claire usually liked gifts, but she didn’t feel good about this one. What did it mean? Was it because of how he had been or because of how he would be? She picked it up and decided she didn’t want to know. Sitting the gift on the corner of the bed, she wearily entered the bathroom to soak in the tub.
After the bath she chose the same soft robe she wore before. It felt warm. With some slippers, she would be comfortable until she retired. Combing out her wet hair, she chose to not put on make-up. It was only 5:30 PM but she was exhausted.
Anthony said he would look for her before he left. She expected to find him in her suite. If she opened the door and he wasn’t there, would she be disappointed? Only because she wanted him to leave, so seeing him one more time would be a means to that end. Upon opening the door, she wasn’t disappointed, and his presence didn’t startle her. He was seated at the table with the gift in his hand. “You haven’t opened your present.”
“I knew it was from you and thought you might want to see me open it,” she lied.
He set the gift on the table and walked toward her. Although his height dominated her small frame, she held her ground and looked up at him as their bodies touched. He pulled her close and held her there with his strong, solid arms. She knew her emerald eyes appeared weary as he examined her face. His soft brown eyes gleamed while his musky fragrance overwhelmed her senses. She wasn’t afraid, only tired. Silently she prayed, Dear God, if he wants me to do something, I hope it’s over soon.
In one swift yet gentle motion he lifted her and carried her to the bed. Although he had a trip to take, he didn’t seem rushed. Instead, he laid her on the bed and leisurely untied her robe. Claire remained still as he stood and looked at her body—completely nude—pink from the warm bath—and smelling of bath beads. Neither one spoke. There were no instructions, no insults, and no rules. Attempting to conceal his burning carnal desire, Anthony’s fingers moved slowly as his light touch traced over her breasts, down her stomach, and over her hips.
The heat intensified as his touch turned to caresses. She didn’t want to respond. Wanting to remain unfazed by his actions, she reminded herself, this is the man that hurt me; however, when his lips contacted her soft skin, beginning at her neck, nuzzling her collar, and suckling the flesh of her breasts—her body stirred deep inside. Fighting the sensations, she remained stoic until his tongue tenderly teased her nipples and his fingers explored new depths. Unconsciously, she pushed away the absurdity of the situation, as well as the abrasiveness of his five o’clock shadow. Her nipples hardened while her back arched, pushing her breasts upward.
The open drapes filled the room with natural light. As his mouth tantalized her skin, she sat forward allowing him to gently remove her robe. It was then—Anthony gasped.
Claire froze—unsure why he made such a sound, and turned to see his face. His features were softer and more concerned than she’d ever witnessed. He didn’t say a word but tenderly caressed her neck and back. His actions were sensual, careful, and tender.
Slowly, he joined her on the bed, and only after ensuring that she was moist and ready did he enter her body. He’d been there before, but this was different. The only sounds from his mouth were incomprehensible noises that made their meaning clear. Soon, she responded in the same language. This time he wasn’t the only one to experience fulfillment—Claire did too.
After they were both satisfied, she rested on the satin sheets while he walked to the table, completely nude. From her vantage point she saw his muscles defined from exertion, and firm skin glistening with perspiration, as he picked up the gift and turned back toward her. Lifting her head from the pillow, her long damp brown hair cascaded in waves around her face. Anthony handed Claire the gift and watched as she removed the wrapping from the black velvet box. Inside was a Swarovski wristwatch. She smiled.
“It’s meant as a way to avoid glitches in the future,” he said softly.
“Thank you. I would really like to avoid those.”
She handed him the box and lowered her head to the pillow. Completely drained of energy, she closed her eyes and felt the soft warmth as Anthony lifted the covers over her body. She could still smell his musky scent as she drifted into unconsciousness. She didn’t wake until Monday morning.
In that time between sleep and wakefulness, Claire wondered if yesterday evening had been real. How could it be real if Saturday was too? Could Anthony Rawlings really be two such different men? As the fog began to clear she realized that whoever he was—he was gone for the next two and a half days. This comprehension gave her a renewed vitality. She didn’t know what she would do with her sixty-five hours of freedom, but she knew she would find something.
Her breakfast sat on the table when she exited the bathroom and the drapes were opened. The sky radiated a very light shade of blue, and there seemed to be clouds forming in the distance. It was spring in Iowa. The weather could be unpredictable. After breakfast she decided to try the indoor pool. She swam laps for forty minutes and rested in the hot tub. It felt wonderful to push her muscles beyond their limit. Other than her duties, she’d done nothing to exercise in almost three weeks. Surprisingly, the lack of physical activity didn’t seem to cause weight gain. She didn’t have a scale, but she could tell in the mirror and with her new clothes. If anything she’d lost weight. She lay back and closed her eyes amid the hum and bubbling of the tub and realized it was her diet. In three weeks she hadn’t had any alcohol—not even a glass of wine. She also hadn’t consumed one ounce of dessert—not a cookie, brownie, or even a piece of dark chocolate. Now that the realization hit her, Claire craved chocolate.
The sixty-five hours passed without event. She thoroughly investigated the house. It was luxurious, vast, and held many amenities; however, the more she explored, the more she realized, it was still a prison. She couldn’t leave. She couldn’t go outside. It may be bigger and grander than her suite, but it still had walls.
Claire made an effort to get to know the names of the staff. The young lady who brought food was Cindy. The young man who speaks little English was Carlos. Anthony’s driver was Eric. There were others that cleaned, cooked, did laundry, and tended the grounds, but Claire rarely saw them, so she didn’t have the chance to learn their names, yet whenever she passed one or encountered them in a hallway, they would nod and acknowledge her, “Ms. Claire.”
On Wednesday, before Anthony was scheduled to return, Claire watched from the sun porch as nimbostratus clouds formed in the west. A month earlier this weather phenomenon would have thrilled her. Watching storms form, either in person, or on the radar screen, had always filled her with excitement. As the dark clouds approached, she began to hear the distant rumbling of thunder and felt the distinct drop in pressure. Claire knew that Iowa, like Indiana, had its share of tornadoes. Despite the drop in pressure, her instincts told her this was going to be just a good old-fashioned spring thunderstorm, the kind that’s loud and boisterous, but usually blows over with little damage. Momentarily, she became mesmerized as she watched and listened. In the past, she’d been too busy to just watch and listen to the weather. Now, with the time, she just stood.
Catherine finally broke the spell. “Ms. Claire, please come in. We need to shut the windows. You’ll get wet.”
Claire came in and went to her suite. The howling of the wind electrified her emotions. She knew Anthony would return today. She hated him with every bit of her being. She detested his patronizing demeanor, his callous attitude, and above all his abusive mentality, and she hated being alone. She liked Catherine very much, but she treated Claire like a guest or a superior. Claire longed for someone to talk to, to laugh with, and to just be near. With all her heart and soul, she didn’t want that person to be Anthony Rawlings. Therefore, when 5:00 PM arrived and Claire waited for word of his arrival, she should have been pleased with Catherine’s report, “Mr. Rawlings is delayed due to the storm fronts. The pilot won’t fly west of Chicago, due to high cloud banks. He’ll be home tomorrow evening and plans to dine with you at that time. You’ll know more tomorrow.”
Claire thanked Catherine for the information, ate her dinner, read a little, and went to bed.
After Anthony returned, the schedule he discussed went into full gear. She was in her suite at 5:00 PM each evening to learn his plans. Things were very busy with his work and many nights he didn’t visit at all. Sometimes they ate in her suite and sometimes in the dining room. Sometimes he called upon her for her duties, other times he said he had work to do. The days turned to weeks and the weeks to another month.
The positive aspect was that there’d been no more glitches. That didn’t mean that Claire experienced anything like the afternoon in her suite. On the contrary, each task to fulfill her contractual agreement was about him. Nonetheless, she felt content to avoid the explosive unpredictable glitches.
At some point during the beginning of May after Anthony was finished with Claire, he chose to stay in her bed. She realized this after she fell asleep and woke in the middle of the night to the sound of his breathing—steady and rhythmic. The consciousness of his presence frightened her. Did he have additional plans? Should she be doing something? She was too afraid to wake him and ask. Instead, she quietly, slowly moved to the edge of her side of the bed and fell back to sleep. When she awoke in the morning, he was gone.
On May 12, a Sunday, Catherine informed Claire that she and Mr. Rawlings would be eating on the back patio. The temperature had steadily increased and the backyard was vibrant with color—intense shades of greens, ruby reds from the red bud trees, and pure white from the dogwood trees. Anthony employed groundskeepers that had been busily planting thousands of annual flowers in the gardens, beautiful clay pots, and flowing hanging baskets. The pool was recently opened with ever-flowing fountains which at night produced a colorful light show that changed the water from clear—to pink—to blue—to green—to red—and back to clear.
Claire remembered the day, because as they sat to eat Anthony asked, “Have you been swimming in the outdoor pool yet? It’s heated.”
After so much time of following his rules and being incarcerated inside, her bravado failed; she started to cry. Her reaction obviously surprised him. Through muffled tears Claire replied, “This is the first time I’ve been outside in two months. I didn’t think I was allowed to go outside.”
If he had been initially moved at her emotional response, he quickly recovered. “Yes, that’s correct. I know exactly how long it’s been since you have been outside.” His voice resumed the authoritative tone she despised. “And I’m happy to hear you still remember who’s in control of your access to additional privileges.”
Claire nodded her head ever so slightly, she understood. Anthony cleared his throat. She looked into his eyes trying to blink the tears from hers. “Yes, I understand, but, I truly love being outside.”
“Surely you are smart enough to figure this out,” Anthony teased.
Confused and upset by the loss of her falsely perceived equality, Claire said, “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Claire, I’m an important man. I have hundreds of thousands of people in hundreds of companies who depend upon me for their livelihood. I balance a lot on my plate. Being observant to your wants and whims is not on my list of priorities. If you want to go outside—ask.”
The simplicity startled her, and the reality nauseated her. She was an adult, and she was asking permission to go outside. Her memory seemed foggy, but she couldn’t recall doing that since she was maybe ten or eleven. It was one of his tests. Would she surrender to his authority or would she refuse and spend the summer inside? If she surrendered was it really submission or was it her way of manipulating the situation? The internal debate continued for a short time.
“Anthony, may I please leave the house and go outside?”
“You may be outside; however, you may not leave the property without me or my permission.” His tone continued; nonetheless, Claire’s only concern was his meaning. He continued, “Remember to be available to me whenever I’m here. Therefore, no wandering the grounds if I’m present, and you must be in your suite by 5:00 PM each evening for instructions. Can you follow these rules?”
“Oh, yes, I can!”
It may still be a prison, but it had just multiplied in size.
Greed, for lack of a better word is good Greed in all its forms for life, for money, for love, for knowledge has marked the upward surge of mankind.
—Gordon Gekko, Wallstreet