Rarely, if ever, did Anthony Rawlings receive an ultimatum. Now faced with one, he didn’t anger or hesitate, he answered, “I want to know more about your prison delivery.”
She eyed him, more assessment: honesty. Apparently the conversation wasn’t closed the night before, only tabled until today. After the fourth ring, she brushed the screen and answered. “Hello.” “Yes, this is Ms. Nichols.” “Yes, he did.” “Thank you.” “Yes. I will. Good-bye.” Tony watched intently as she spoke. She had the sensation of a bird, being evaluated by a cat. Should she fly away, had she just thrown away her only chance of ejecting him from her home, or would she be consumed by a power greater than she could manage?
After her conversation with security ended, she turned back to her guest, “I have plans today. Please make this quick.”
His eyes scanned up and down her petite form. “Yes, I see you are dressed for business. What do they call that, business casual?” The vulnerability of her light weight pants and top made her uneasy. Refusing to take his snide bait, Claire remained silent. His tone turned sultry, “I’m not complaining. I always found the casual Claire as sexy as the one who rocked designer dresses.”
Dreaming or awake, we perceive only events that have meaning to us.
- Jane Roberts
Chapter 18
Claire looked up into the sparkling velvety brown eyes. Damn, she’d been seeing those same eyes and that Cheshire expression all night long. Crossing her arms over her breasts, she exhaled, “Please, I have lunch plans, and I’d like to change. Question what you want and go.”
“Do you only entertain in the entry, or may we sit?”
His gentlemanly tone was difficult to resist. “We may sit.” She led him to the living room. As they sat, him on the sofa and her in a chair, she added, “I know you enjoy coffee, I’d offer you some. But, the last time I got you coffee, it didn’t work out so well for me.”
Tony smirked, “God, Claire you’re something else. I can’t imagine anyone else joking about that.”
“Well, see, you misinterpreted. I wasn’t joking. I’m actually still pissed as hell.” This wasn’t something she could have said while they were married. And definitely not something she would have said in a restaurant, even a restaurant devoid of other patrons. Some details of their life could only be discussed in private. His rules regarding privacy and appearance were as ingrained as punctuality.
“Good for you.” He leaned toward her, his eyes devouring her entirely, until she questioned her own presence. “Your ability to admit your displeasure is refreshing. It encourages me to be honest, too.”
Claire did her best to glare, “Honesty. That would be a refreshing change.”
His expression remained soft and so were his words, “You should know ...I am sorry.”
The world as Claire knew it, shifted. Perhaps it was an earthquake, they do happen in California. Why couldn’t he be domineering or abrasive? That she could resist. But, apologetic, in the depths of her soul, she never expected to hear those three words.
“What?” She tried unsuccessfully to subdue the overpowering trembling. The volume of her voice rose exponentially with each phrase, “You’re sorry?” The years of submission, incarceration, and domination bubbled out. No, not bubbled -- gushed. This was not his house. She was not sequestered away from the love and support of others. She’d say whatever she wanted, and then tell him to leave. If he didn’t – she’d call security. They were after all, on her call log. “Well, Tony, I believe I need a little clarification. Tell me what exactly you’re sorry about. I’ll gladly give you a few options.”