“Shit 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 more positive slant.” Clawson distributed the report. The room filled with uncomfortable silence as the two Rawls men read the new report.
“Where is 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 23
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 was prevailing.
Claire floated in that place before consciousness, having difficulty distinguishing reality from fantasy, unsure what she was feeling. The epiphany came in the realization she was . . . feeling. It had been so long since she felt anything. She was feeling warm, good, safe. Her mind tried to convince her it was a dream, but she remembered feeling that way before she fell asleep. She questioned herself, Is this real? Her soft skin rolled on the silky sheets, felt radiating warmth. Hesitantly, she slowly opened her eyes. Right in front of her, close enough to touch, was Tony’s firm broad chest. Again, the 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 head.
“Good morning, what are you doing still in bed?” The room was quite dark. “Or is it early? It is so dark.” The eyes that watched her weren’t.
“I have been watching you sleep.” He slid his arm under her back, placing her head upon his shoulder. His aroma was exhilarating. 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. She inhaled deeply.
He took her chin and turned her face toward his, gently kissing her lips. “I have been watching you because you are 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 am not going to keep bringing this up, but I want you to know how much I regret it. And how amazing I think you are. You went through so much. I don’t want anything like that to ever happen again.”