Although her refusal surprised him, he didn’t let it show. In the long run, it wouldn’t matter, but he would play into her chastity. “I truly understand, dangerous man from out of town tries to learn your secrets and offers to help you with your aspirations. You are wise to keep your distance.” Although his grin had sinister written all over it, he assumed she would detect the facade.
“A girl can’t be too careful. Truly, I am honored, and I don’t think you seem that dangerous.” She began to scoot out of the booth, but he caught her hand. Their eyes met, and he bowed his head to kiss the back of her hand.
“It was wonderful to meet you, Claire Nichols.” With a smile, she retrieved her hand and slowly slid from the booth. The next minute, he was alone. He took the pen, signed his name, and wrote the date on the same napkin. He carefully folded it and placed it in the pocket of his suit jacket. Then he pulled out his phone and texted his driver: “PICK ME UP NOW.” He always used full words. Text language was a joke. Closing his eyes, he thought, Yes, my acquisition is going quite well. Thank you for asking.
To look backward for a while is to refresh the eye, to restore it, and to render it the more fit for its prime function of looking—forward.
—Margaret Fairless Barber, The Roadmender
Chapter 3
She contemplated her situation as she ate. She didn’t take the napkin discussion seriously. Anthony probably expected that. She didn’t prepare to move from her Atlanta apartment or even consider the possibility. His recollection of a document that legally bound them was a complete surprise. Claire’s gut told her it wasn’t legal, but what recourse did she have to fight from this room? She searched high and low for a telephone, computer, or some way to call for help—nothing.
She actually thought she would walk out of this twisted nightmare. However, it wasn’t a nightmare, twisted or otherwise. It was her reality, and her mind searched for a way to survive and escape.
Claire relished the warm oatmeal, fruit, bacon, perfectly brewed coffee, and juice. She devoured every ounce, even checking twice for more coffee in the carafe. Yesterday she hardly ate. She was thankful that starvation wasn’t part of his plan.
Standing to go to the shower, she moved carefully, experiencing the same aches and pains of the day before, except intensified. Claire wasn’t sure if she wanted to see herself in the mirrors as she cautiously stepped into the generous bathroom and slowly approached the dressing table. The reflection that looked back was scary. Her hair messed and tangled, and her face sported various shades of red and blue. The worst image had to be her lips, looking as if she had received Botox injections. This time, there were no tears. Instead, she stared and considered.
Grandma Nichols told her more than once she was an unusually strong young woman. In Claire’s mind, Grandma was always strong. Grandpa’s work in law enforcement took him away from home, and Grandma never complained. Instead, she was the heart of the family—always there for everyone and often giving advice such as, “It is not the circumstances that make a person a success. It is how that person responds to those circumstances.” Grandma believed every situation could be made better by the right attitude. Claire dropped the robe. Looking at the vision in the mirror, she believed Grandma never anticipated a situation like this.
After the shower, Claire decided to not dress appropriately in expectation of an Anthony visitation. If he were to walk in her suite, he would find her in jeans, a T-shirt, and fuzzy socks. Furthermore, there would be no makeup and no hair primping. It may be a small act of rebellion, but Claire didn’t have many rebellious options, and every bone in her body told her to fight. She tried to fight during the past two nights, but that didn’t work out well.
Entering the grand closet/dressing room, Claire realized that she hadn’t truly appreciated all it had to offer yesterday. First, she began to look for underwear but remembered that it didn’t exist in any of the drawers. So Claire searched for jeans. There were multiple pairs, different shades of blue with different leg styles. Wearing jeans must not break any rules; if it did, they wouldn’t be there. The brands she read on the labels she had only seen in stores like Saks: Hudson, J Brand, and MIH. She never in her life tried jeans like these on. They were soft, amazingly comfortable, and fit perfectly.
Now she wanted a T-shirt. Feeling a chill as she removed the robe, she decided a sweater would be better. The choices were countless and fashionable. She decided on a Donna Karan pink fuzzy cashmere sweater. Before putting it on, she looked for a bra. Apparently, bras were against the rules too because she couldn’t find one. However, she did find a drawer full of various colored camisoles; she chose pink.