Truth



With her get-together complete, Claire maneuvered the BMW toward Tony’s estate and contemplated the long winding drive. She tried unsuccessfully to diminish the beauty of it. She’d driven off his estate twice; this was her first solo drive back onto it. Looking at the dashboard clock, it was nearly eleven, and the wedding wasn’t until five thirty.

Coffee with Sue was nice. Sue obviously felt guilty for not supporting Claire in her troubles. In many ways Claire felt bad lying to Sue now about her and Tony’s reconciliation. Or was she? Claire’s emotions were so jumbled -- sometimes she didn’t know what was real and what was pretend. To Claire, the best part of their meeting was seeing Sean again. While the ladies chatted, he busied himself with toys. Claire smiled, remembering how Sue picked the bright colored rattles off the floor at least fifty times.

Claire pulled the car to the front door, not worrying about taking it around to the garage. Eric would do that. As she walked up the steps toward the house Claire realized how easy it was to slip into that place where others did things for her. Was this part of Tony’s plan? Did he want her to remember the perks of being here?

She opened the door to the massive sparkling entry. While she decided if she wanted to go upstairs to her suite or down the hall to Tony’s office, Catherine came hurriedly down the hall to greet her. “Claire, you are back!”

“Yes, I just went to town,” Claire looked questionably at Catherine, “Did you think I wouldn’t come back?”

“I was only concerned when Mr. Rawlings told me you’d taken one of the cars.”

“Where is he?” Claire asked.

“He is in his office. Would you like me to let him know you are back?”

Claire remembered his rules: she was only allowed in his office by invitation or summons. Claire decided this was another opportunity to push the envelope. “No, thank you. I will.” She saw Catherine’s surprised expression as Claire turned toward the corridor and walked to office. Should she knock?

As she contemplated, she heard his voice from behind the large doors, “... that was two days ago. I wanted an answer yesterday. Your incompetence is...” His speech stalled, hearing the simultaneous knock and opening of his door. Claire watched his expression morph through a series of emotions. Wasn’t there a time when she couldn’t read his thoughts? Seeing him go from anger -- at the person on the telephone -- to shock at the unrequested intrusion and finally to amusement by Claire’s forwardness, she wondered how anyone couldn’t read his every thought. With a mischievous smile, he continued speaking. Although his heart was no longer in his tirade, he attempted to conceal that from the poor soul on the other end of the line. “It seems as though another pressing matter has come to my attention. We will postpone this conversation. Mr. George, I expect to hear from you Monday morning. Do not disappoint me.” He disconnected the line. His eyes remained fixed on Claire’s from the moment she opened the door.

She smiled as he walked around the large mahogany desk toward her. His movements were graceful yet powerful, like a lion stalking its prey. The light behind his intense dark chocolate eyes made her tingle with anticipation. She’d seen that sultry look before. Why was she smiling? She’d come to his office to let him know she was back, and suddenly the temperature of the regal room was rising exponentially.

She thought about his words on the phone. She’d heard that closing statement a hundred times. “That should be your tag line.”

“Oh, but you are so right.” He was now only inches away, looking down into her confident expression. His cologne penetrated her nostrils and filled her lungs. “I do not like being disappointed.”

“I remember that about you.” She hesitated. If she just leaned forward, they would be touching. She stood straight, fighting the urge for contact. “Your car has been returned in one piece, scarcely a scratch.”

The tips of his lips twitched and his eyebrow cocked, “A scratch?”

Claire’s grin broadened, “Wasn’t that your concern, that I might scratch it?”

He took the initiative and leaned forward. Their subtle touch increased the beating of her heart. Almost instantaneously, her tender breasts responded to the sensation of his massive chest. “I don’t recall being concerned with a scratch,” he said. “The whole damn car can be replaced. I believe my concern was with your safe return.” Because, Claire hadn’t resisted their contact, Tony chose to make another move, wrapping his arms around the small of her back. With their proximity, her face tipped upward.

Aleatha Romig's books