Текст книги "Truth "
Автор книги: Aleatha Romig
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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 42 страниц)
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.”
The fury surging through her veins wouldn’t allow her to remain seated. She stood and paced, around the coffee table, in front of the large windows, back to the chair and again to the coffee table. She felt his eyes on her, as she made multiple slow and methodical loops. Her mind was a whirlwind, a tornado, of words. Each syllable vehemently rushed to get out. Instead of opening the flood gate, Claire took a few deep breaths. She wanted to proceed slowly, clearing away the debris cluttering her mind, and choose the right words. Finally, she began, “First, you’re sorry for invading my privacy for years, years before I even knew you existed. Second, you’re sorry for kidnapping me, isolating, controlling me, and manipulating me. Third, you’re sorry for lying to me, pretending you cared and oh yeah, marrying me. Fourth, listen carefully Tony, this is a big one... you’re sorry for framing me for attempted murder, resulting in incarceration in a federal penitentiary.” She sat back down, arms once again crossed over her breasts. It was the most direct she’d ever spoken to him, and it felt liberating. Unfortunately, the resentment coursing through her veins wouldn’t allow her to relish her new found independence.
She expected her words to incite anger; after all, she’d experienced his anger before. Nevertheless, carelessly and unapologetically Claire forged ahead, “I would prefer the words, but you are welcome to say, one through four, if that’s easier for you.”
He leaned forward. Cautiously she looked up into his face. Her body trembled. The cause may have been the fury she’d just released, or perhaps fear of his anticipated reaction. Then she took in his expression and without warning the trembling stopped. His eyes were soft, the color of melted chocolate – even sad, overflowing with regret. He reached for her hand and gently tugged. Slowly, Claire released her appendage, allowing it to sit in his large palm. Tenderly he closed his fingers encasing her petite hand.
“I am deeply sorry for one and four.” He rubbed the top of her hand with his thumb. “I did provide you with an alternative destination for number four.” Claire exhaled audibly, Tony continued, “I am not proud of two, but three would never have happened without it.” His tone deepened and slowed, “I am not, and never will be sorry for three. And, for the record, I never lied about or pretended to love you. I didn’t realize it at first, but I have loved you since before you knew my name.” He slowly lifted the hand he held and lowered his lips to the firm soft skin. “And, you forgot our divorce. I am sincerely sorry for that also. Had I known you would be released so soon, we could still be married.” He placed her left hand on her knee, and stroked her empty fourth finger. “You could still officially be mine.”
Was he implying that unofficially she still was? He waited.
As Claire contemplated Tony’s words, she thought about her rings. Did he know she’d sold them? Then she noticed him eying the two cellphones on the table, in front of her. She quickly reached for her Emily phone and slid it into her camisole between her breasts. Yoga pants don’t have pockets.
Tony closed his eyes and gently shook his head. “If I didn’t want to see that phone before, I sure as hell do now.”
“It’s my work phone.” When had lying become so easy?
“Oh, I was unaware of your employment.”
“Really, I guess I forgot to inform you or your spies.” She didn’t think it was appropriate to use Phillip’s name.
“Claire, I want to show you that I can change. Have as many damn phones as you want. Two seem excessive, but go for it.”
“Thank you for your permission. I don’t need it. I can have fifty phones, if I want.”
Tony nodded, with a stupid grin and a spark in his eyes. Claire continued, “It’s documented, when a person is forbidden something, once it’s made available, they tend to overindulge.”
Tony met her gaze, his tone a sultry melody, “Before it is made available, a person may dream of it, long for it, and fantasize about it. Especially if they once had it and know how amazing it is.”
God she hated him, and not! Her insides tightened as the feelings from last night returned. The inappropriate sensations, deep inside, threatened her irrelevant tone. “I don’t recall availability being an issue for you.”
“Be careful, Claire. That could be interpreted as an invitation.”
“Then once again, you would be misinterpreting.” She stood.
He stood and stepped toward her. She remained strong and defiant, straightening her spine and standing as tall, as her five–four frame would allow. At the same time, she wanted to crumble. Their bodies stood resolute, untouching, separated by inches. Those inches might as well have been miles. The space created a deep chasm, filled with a magnitude of baggage and memories. Impassable, the gorge served as an insurmountable barrier.
Or, could the gap be closed? His voice held more than a hint of sensuality, “I believe you want, what I want, as much as I do.”
Claire feigned strength and ignorance. What had she told Phillip Roach? She said, she didn’t recommend lying to her ex-husband. Yet, here she was, giving it her all. “If you’re suggesting I want you to leave, you are absolutely correct. If you’re suggesting anything else, it couldn’t be farther from the truth.” His cologne penetrated her subconscious, the same exhilarating scent that infiltrated her dreams.
His head bowed slightly. Claire feared he would kiss her. She wanted to back away and at the same time, she wanted to feel his lips on hers. She fought the urge to lift her chin toward him, surrendering her hungry mouth.
The only possible conclusion she could ascertain was Tony was a giant magnet. His pull affected everything, from the rotation of the earth, to her mind’s ability to reason. Losing her battle, she slowly tilted her face upward.
He gently held her chin, as his voice continued with its seductive undertone, “You, my dear, have never been a good liar.”
In a moment of strength, Claire backed away and sat, exasperated. She’d willingly admit defeat in this stupid stare-off. His proximity was more than she could bear. She needed air and space. Her arms once again crossed her heaving bosom, igniting friction on her disloyal nipples. Frustrated, she admitted, “You’re right. Your deceitfulness far exceeds my modest attempts at dishonesty. I bow-down to your superior duplicity.”
Tony retook his seat on the sofa as his knee touched hers. “I know you have no reason to believe me, but I thought you should know why I came to California.”
She looked up into his genuine gaze, “Why?”
“To take you back to Iowa.”
Claire stared at her ex-husband. A momentary feeling of panic filled her senses. She sat dumbfounded, unable to respond, afraid to trust her own voice. The appealing idea to slap his smug face and scream at him, danced through her consciousness. She knew she couldn’t do it. She’d already pushed her luck with her earlier verbal tirade. Nevertheless, the fleeting thought made her smile. Simultaneously, she fought the desires she’d been experiencing all night. That traitorous part of her wanted to forget all reason and take whatever he offered, and more. Eventually, wisdom prevailed; she responded, “Well, since this time I have a choice, I’m going to say no.”
“Catherine misses you.”
She searched his face for insincerity and found none. However, she’d misjudged that in the past. The sound of the woman’s name made her heart ache. Claire had no reason to lie, “I miss her, too.” Hesitantly she asked, “Does she believe I tried to kill you?”
His half smile and softened eyes disappeared. Breaking the connection he looked down at his own hands. Shaking his head slightly, he answered, “I’m not sure. We’ve never discussed it. I know at first she was worried about me. Then once I was well, she was upset, but I don’t know for sure if it was at you or at me. The subject’s never come up.”
“Then how do you know she misses me?”
“I just do. When word came of your pardon...”
She interrupted him, “You were angry.”
This time he stood and paced. Claire watched his jaw clench and unclench. She’d seen it before; his attempt to maintain control. Part of her wanted him to lose it, not a masochistic desire, more clarification. The frightening domineering man was much easier to resist than the sensual, apologetic one.
Tony stopped at the large windows. His back toward her, he seemed to be absorbing the view, taking in the mountains and sunlit sky. Silently she waited and watched. Eventually his shoulders squared, and with his back still toward her, she heard his restrained voice, “I was. I admit I was... stunned. Governor Preston informed me of your release two weeks after it occurred.” He emphasized the two weeks. “I was angry at everyone, at you for being pardoned, at Jane Allyson for presenting the petition, at Governor Bosley for signing it. Hell, I was even mad at the clerk that filed it.” He turned toward her. She knew those black eyes. He may have restrained his voice, but his true emotion shone like beacons through his intense gaze. Refusing to look away, Claire met his stare with her own intensity. He went on, “I finally figured out, the person I was the most upset with, was me. For the first time in years, yes more than three – you know that now– I’d lost track of you.” His volume increased, “My god, you were gone!”
There were so many things churning in her brain Claire couldn’t speak. There were statements, accusations, and questions. None would make themselves known. She just watched, knowing she’d done what she’d subconsciously wanted. She’d pushed him to the brink. Tony lingered on the precipice; a slight breeze could push him into a complete meltdown.
Her heart beat rapidly, as he walked toward her. There was no violence. His tone and eyes mellowed. He resumed his seat. “Damn it, Claire. Nothing has been the same without you. The house is just a big empty hole.”
She exhaled and asked, “Tell me why?”
He looked puzzled, “Why is it empty? Because you are not there.”
“No, Tony. Why did you do it to me? Why’d you set me up, worse – arrange my entire life to look as though I was after your money, setting you up for the kill? You know I continually told you, I didn’t care about the money. But everything from the beginning was manipulated to make me look guilty. Now you say you loved me. You don’t do that to someone you love. Tell me why you did it.”
“It isn’t past tense, Claire. I still love you. And I thought you knew why.”
“I want to hear it from you.”
“What was in the box, you said you received? What information did you think I revealed?”
She didn’t have time to filter her answers, the words came tumbling out. “There were pictures, articles, and a letter. It all explained that your birth name was Anton Rawls, you changed it after the death of your grandfather and parents.” As the words flowed, she realized the thing she’d been missing. She didn’t say grandparents and parents. What happened to Tony’s grandmother? Could she still be alive? She would be very old. Maybe, she sent Claire the information? Or maybe, she was behind this vendetta. Would it lessen the sting if Claire learned it wasn’t all Tony’s doing?
“Was it handwritten? Where is it? I’d like to see it.”
“Yes, the note was handwritten. I thought it looked like your writing. It wasn’t signed, but you never signed anything.” It was Claire’s turn to look down. “You can’t see it,” She exhaled, “I burned it.”
She heard him laugh, “You what?”
Looking up, squaring her shoulders, she repeated, “I burned it, all of it. I took it to the incinerator at the prison and watched it burn.”
He stared for a moment and exclaimed, “You are serious. You have no proof of anything you just said? You burned it.” His shoulders relaxed. The tension that glued his muscles together, dissipated before her eyes. He continued, “I don’t know who sent it to you. I did confirm, today, that you received a box in October of last year. The prison said the return address was Emily’s.”
Claire nodded. “Yes, I assumed it was books or something.”
He exhaled again, “Burned it. Why?”
“I’ve asked myself that same question a thousand times. I believe it was a cleansing of sorts, my way of removing you from my life.”
Tony smirked, “How is that working for you?”
The tension in the room disintegrated, like the ashes of her information. She couldn’t help but grin. “Not as well as I’d hoped.” Claire glanced at a clock, 11:16. “I really do need to get ready for my lunch date.” There was no reason to emphasize the last word, but she did. “If we’re done, I’d like you to leave.” Her voice no longer held the urgency from before. While the ability to direct his movements empowered her, the memory of destroying the evidence subdued her.
“I would like to ask you one more thing?” She nodded; her strength to fight him was waning. “Who was the expected recipient of that dazzling smile?”
Claire’s mind spun. What smile? “What are you talking about?”
“When you first opened the door, your smile was earth shaking. Who were you expecting?”
“A good friend.”
Tony raised his eyebrows, but Claire didn’t respond. She didn’t have to. She’d answered his question, the first time he asked. She didn’t owe him anymore. Truthfully, she no longer owed him that.
Claire stood, “If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to the door.”
Tony stood, “I will not give-up my quest.” Though his tone was friendly, his words were both a promise and a threat; they both knew it.
The living room and hall continued to stretch making the walk to the door endless. Finally they reached her destination.
“Please give Catherine my love.” As she reached for the door handle she continued, “If you have truly changed, as you claim, you will respect my decisions. If that is the case, you are wasting your time.”
“I have invested much more.” He paused, “One last thing,” his words slowed, “do not share your unsupported theories – with anyone.”
Claire straightened her neck, once again facing off with her ex. “I’m sorry. It’s too late for that.”
He reached for her hand. Her thoughts were forming too slowly to react with enough speed, to save it from his clutches. He lowered his lips to soft skin as his fingertips brushed her palm beneath. Waves of warmth radiated throughout her body. Before releasing her captured appendage, he warned, “Be careful. You don’t want to disappoint me.” He dropped her hand as his dark brown eyes peered into the depths of her soul.
She maintained eye contact, “That – is no longer my concern. Good-bye, Tony.”
He nodded, turned and strode toward the elevator. She watched his tall, elegant body disappear down the hallway.
It took her a minute; finally, she shut the door and collapsed with her back against the hard wooden surface. Her Emily phone fell from her camisole. The sound of shattering, refocused her thoughts. The small black devise lay helpless on the shiny marble floor. Dropping to her knees, she retrieved the phone. Opening its cover, the screen was black. Not registering the implication, she remembered Tony’s eyes. When he left, were they black, or had he kept them under control? Could he really change? Could she ever forgive him?
She tried to focus. The phone would not turn on.
Closing her eyes and absorbing the coolness of the marble floor, she fought to think. Each thought was epic and yet minuscule. She needed to get another phone. She also needed to call Harry. It was too late for lunch; she was too drained. Maybe she should nap, and later she’d face life’s decisions.
Dragging herself to the living room, she found her iPhone, so heavy. She managed to complete her unfinished text to Harry. Focusing, she read what she’d started an hour before: it talked about missing him at breakfast and being sorry for her behavior the night before. She just hadn’t pushed send before Tony arrived. She added: WOULD YOU JOIN ME FOR DINNER? And hit send.
Her bed seemed too far away. Yawning, Claire noticed the soft inviting sofa. Nestling onto the indulgent, cool leather she reached for a throw pillow and inhaled his scent. The brief exhilaration morphed to disappointment, questioning her future. Would Tony ever let her go? What exactly did he mean by his comment not giving up his quest?
Waking at two in the morning was not a good idea. Sudden exhaustion engulfed her. Claire was so tired. The large glass windows filled the room with sunshine. She glanced toward the mountains in the distance, appreciating their beauty, as their purple haze filled her vision with color. Dreamily, she observed the sky above. The amazing clarity reminded her of a Midwestern sky, crystal blue with light fluffy wisps of clouds. She wondered when the high pressure system had settled in, very unusual for Palo Alto this time of year. She knew that from meteorology, not experience. After all, she’d only lived on the west coast over a month. So much had changed in such a short time.
Normally, on a beautiful day like this, she’d go for a walk. Her daily hikes provided fresh air, exercise, and a wonderful view of the city. They took her to places she might not see by car. Surprisingly, there was something reassuring about Phil’s surveillance. His omnipresence gave her confidence, like the cameras back in Iowa. She was being monitored. She could choose to focus on the negative, or she could relish the positive. Claire was confident Tony didn’t know she and Phil had spoken. Nonetheless, if anything threatened her, she knew, Phillip Roach would be there. Inhaling Tony’s cologne, Claire surmised Phil would intercede with any perpetrator – except his employer.
That was apparent with Phil’s departure from the restaurant last night. Claire made a mental note to question Phil. Thoughts were becoming too elusive, slipping away. Her attention was once again outside. The blue of the sky melted into the purple of the mountains, bleeding into a swirl of color until her eyes could no longer focus. Finally, succumbing to the tremendous weight of her eyelids, Claire closed out the light and color. The darkness absorbed her thoughts. Everything else could wait; she needed a little nap.
Claire tried to wake, but was that possible from within a dream? The one, from the night before, was back. Again, it felt so tangible. Why couldn’t her subconscious just let her sleep?
It began with Tony’s voice, coming from a fog, “Put your arms around my neck.”
The directive was not demanding; yet, she struggled to resist. Undaunted, he controlled her movements. Not with words, that she could resist. No, he manipulated her thoughts and actions with the most devious means of persuasion, a kiss – his warm full lips engaged hers. Conscious reasoning evaporated into the fog of her dreamlike state. Tony didn’t need to repeat his demand; her arms encircled his neck. Her obedience was rewarded with more of the kissing, more warmth, more bliss. Then the world moved. Claire had the sensation of Tony lifting her, or maybe she was floating. That can happen in dreams, can’t it? There’s even a line in a song: in dreams our feet never touch the ground. Claire reassured herself, this wasn’t real.
She’d watched him walk away and locked the door. Didn’t she?
Convincing herself this was only fantasy, Claire nuzzled into his chest and allowed the illusion of his powerful, yet tender arms to transport her through the condominium. Familiar sights passed blurrily before her eyes. Was it from the dream, or the speed with which they traveled? Claire closed her eyes and accepted the journey, anticipating the destination.
Somehow she was on her bed. When she woke at two in the morning, she didn’t straighten the bed clothes. The exposed, soft sheets were cool against her skin. Gently, the clip was freed from her hair, allowing her auburn trusses to fall in waves onto her soft pillow. Piece by piece her clothing disappeared. She obeyed the simple commands, “Lift your arms over your head.” Her oversized t-shirt was eased over her head, then the camisole. Claire moaned as the cool air caused her nipples to harden. Her physical reaction did not go unnoticed. His now gentle fingers lightly caressed the hard nubs. Closing her eyes, with her arms above her head, she arched her back, surrendering her vulnerable breasts. She ached for more.
Next, her yoga pants were eased past her ankles, exposing her black lacy panties. The barely visible material was but a scant hurdle on the road to their destination. Nevertheless, a streak of panic ran through her, like ice on overheated skin. Goose bumps formed on her arms and legs. The sudden alarm intensified everything, from the sound of their breathing to the touch of his hands. The small lace barrier was another direct violation of his rules. She watched his expression as his fingers traced the delicate trim. In the center, inches below her bellybutton was a small, black, satin bow. His strong hands encircled her hips as his thumbs teased the tiny adornment. She was a present – a gift, wrapped only for him. He didn’t speak, but his chest rose and fell, as his breathing deepened. She sighed with relief, when the tips of his lips turned upward into his handsome, devilish smile.
The panties were gone.
“This isn’t real. This is a dream.” She wasn’t sure if the words were in her head or if she’d spoken them aloud.
They must have been said aloud, because Tony responded. “Do you want it to be a dream?”
She shook her head, no.
No, she didn’t want it to be a dream? Or no, she didn’t want it to be real? She didn’t know. “It isn’t real.” Claire repeated, a little less confident of her words or her ability to speak.
It felt real. The fragrance of his cologne filled her room, as only she filled his sight. It was that all-encompassing gaze, the one that removed everyone and everything from the world, leaving only them. The heat radiating from his amazing body was overwhelming; she wondered if it could burn her. Yet, she wasn’t concerned. This wasn’t the man who hurt her. The man in her dream was the one she loved and loved her. Her mind searched for reason. He’d proclaimed that love again, in the living room. Now her subconscious wanted to fulfill its desires. She submitted to the dream. Fighting would take too much energy. Even her unconscious knew her energy would be better utilized in other ways.
His clothes were also gone. When had he taken them off? Time can be so elusive in dreams...
He was talking; asking questions and voicing appreciation of everything before him. Nevertheless, his words didn’t register, only the rhythm of his deep sensual tone. That cadence, along with the strong beating of his heart, within his massive, heat-radiating chest, calmed and excited her. Claire listened and nodded, even though she was unsure of what she authorized.
Her senses were on high alert. The amazing sight of him, unclothed, his distinctive scent, the warm commanding touch of his hands, the sound of his sexy breathing, so close to her ear, and the taste of his soft lips, produced gasps and moans. The unrelenting provocation generated overwhelming desire. She heard her own voice, pleading for more. Yet, she wasn’t conscious of speaking. Everything was in another dimension. Involuntary actions and reactions overtook her mind, words, and body. When had fantasy ever taken her to this height?
His hands felt so real, as they caressed her skin. Each touch intensified the electric sensations and passionate desires. She’d been fighting these images all night. She couldn’t do it anymore. The man of her dreams didn’t take, as the real one could. He asked, as Harry had done.
That was it, Claire reasoned. Her subconscious created a combination, an amalgamation of sorts. When the husky voice requested permission, her body screamed with need, “Oh god yes, please!” His smile, too, seemed real. Reaching up, she longed to touch his face. Unlike the night before, her fingertips connected their target. She caressed the smooth, freshly shaven skin of his cheeks and wove her fingers through his thick black hair. Her sensitive nipples pushed toward his chest. Instead of feeling them against his warm skin, Tony bent down and suckled the vulnerable hard tips. Again and again, her back arched. She wanted everything. It had been so long.
What truly wakes one from the depths of sleep? Was it external, like the sound of a ringing phone and noises from the street below? Or was it internal, like the twisting in your stomach from ravenous hunger? Snuggling into the soft, smooth sheets she thought about food. When had she last eaten? Slowly her consciousness took over, and an unreasonable fear filled her being. It was the fear that when she opened her eyes, she’d no longer be in Palo Alto, but in her suite – in Iowa.
Trying unsuccessfully to subdue the rising panic, Claire did the only thing she could. She opened her eyes.
Relief escaped in a deep exhale as she viewed the inside of her room, in Amber’s condominium. She rolled toward her clock, 5:17. Was it that early? She closed her eyes. No, it wasn’t that early... it was that late. She’d slept the entire day away. Pulling back the covers she revealed her clothed body. The only piece of clothing she no longer wore was the large t-shirt currently lying on the rug near her bed.
Walking toward her bathroom she remembered her dream. She stopped and took a moment to survey her room. Nothing seemed out of place. Yet, hadn’t she fallen asleep on the couch?
When she was young, her mother told her she would sometimes sleepwalk. Perhaps, that’s what she’d done. Turning on the warm water of the shower she decided to freshen up before dinner. Removing her clothes she inspected herself in the mirror. There were times when she was with Tony, that her body displayed evidence of their intimacy or his domination.
Her skin appeared untouched. Nevertheless, her body felt ... she wasn’t sure how to describe it... content? The unrelenting tension she’d been experiencing since Harry’s first video game session was gone. Satisfied – yes, that’s how she felt, content and satisfied. It was as if she’d been thoroughly taken, filled and pleased, by a memory.
Claire stepped under the soft hot spray. When the water struck her nipples she flinched and shielded them from the assault. That’s strange, she thought. Why am I so tender? As she poured the shampoo into her hand, she briefly inhaled the fragrance of Tony’s cologne. Her next breath was filled with the scent of flowers.
Claire shook her head as she massaged the floral cream into her hair. Her imagination was working overtime. She needed to compartmentalize Tony away. Hopefully, she had dinner plans with Harry. He could help her leave the world of fantasy and concentrate on reality. She wanted to tell him about Tony and about the bombshell of him not being the sender of the box. There was something else too... stepping from the shower, onto the soft mat, she tried to recall.
As she dried her skin, she remembered. It was Tony’s grandmother. She wanted to research Sharron Rawls... Something in the mirror caught Claire’s attention. It was her pile of dirty clothes. She picked up the camisole and the yoga pants. Hadn’t she been wearing under wear?
