Текст книги "Truth "
Автор книги: Aleatha Romig
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Текущая страница: 25 (всего у книги 42 страниц)
Entrepreneurs are simply those who understand that there is little difference between obstacle and opportunity and are able to turn both to their advantage.
—Niccolo Machiavelli
Chapter 34
Sophia listened as Hilary Cunningham described Anthony Rawlings’ marriage to Claire Nichols. Hilary’s excitement built as she spoke about both of them being present at this function. Sophia didn’t need to feign interest; this was better than a TV show. She couldn’t believe this kind of intrigue existed in real life. She anxiously awaited Claire Nichols’ presence at their table. According to Mrs. Cunningham, Ms. Nichols was a surprisingly attractive and friendly woman.
Occupied with sipping her champagne, tuning out the crowd, and listening to Hilary’s words, Sophia almost missed the vibrating sensation coming from her handbag. Excusing herself from the conversation, Sophia looked at her phone and read the screen: Mr. George 3 missed calls. Walking tentatively from the ballroom into the quiet hall, she returned his call. He answered on the first ring.
“Mrs. Burke, I’ve been trying to reach you.”
“I’m rather busy this evening, Mr. George. What can I do for you?”
“The mystery buyer, he wants to meet with both of us... tonight.”
Sophia collapsed against the wall, allowing her shoulders the relief of a sturdy anchor. “Tonight? I’m with my husband at a very important event. I can’t leave.”
Mr. George continued undeterred, “He’s at the Saint Regis Hotel in San Francisco and wants both of us there in fifteen minutes. Maybe I can pacify him until you arrive.”
Sophia looked toward a group of waiters with wheeled carts and stacks of covered plates. “Mr. George, I’m at the Saint Regis. Where are we supposed to meet?”
“Consigner’s desk, before 8 PM.”
She looked at her delicate watch, 7:46 PM, and asked, “Will you be here in time?”
“Yes, I’m in a cab as we speak. I’ve been trying to reach you for over a half an hour.”
“I’ll be there.” Sophia disconnected her call and gathered her nerve. She needed to explain to Derek; she’d only be gone from the festivities for a very short time. Seriously, what luck the buyer wanted to meet at this hotel?
*****
Though the large hand which held hers radiated warmth, the unyielding grip was not intended to be misconstrued as comfort. It was undeniably a warning. Tony made it clear; Claire would again follow his rules. Magnanimous as ever, he kindly reminded her of the most important ones: do as I say, public failure is not an option, and be the perfect companion.
Tonight’s duties required obeying all three. In order to assure SiJo Gaming’s complete recovery from its current troubles, Claire must attend the National Center for Learning Disabilities Gala as Anthony Rawlings’ companion. The silk wrap covering her shoulders failed to keep the trembling at bay. Claire stared at their perfect reflections upon the mirrored door of the private golden Penthouse elevator. With each floor of their descent, her mind reeled with this new reality.
Perhaps, someday she’d learn to expect the unexpected, and his actions wouldn’t shock her. Yet, as was their history, whenever Anthony Rawlings was in Claire’s life, so was the potential for abrupt change. Remembering the past hour, she bowed to the reality of her new paradigm.
In their figurative game of chess, Anthony Rawlings had Claire in check. Every move she made, he countered. When she wanted their dinner to be public, he made it private. When she wanted to surprise him at a public event, he chose to make it the stage for their refound allegiance.
*****
After Claire regained her composure in the St. Regis Penthouse, Tony ordered crackers and cheese to the suite. While Claire ate and sipped a soda, Tony asked for her purse. Although, she didn’t want to relinquish it, the recent change of events and his familiar domineering demeanor left her momentarily unable to resist. In a matter of minutes her world had returned to his control.
Taking her elegant black clutch, Tony removed her iPhone, turned it off and placed it in the breast pocket of his silk shirt. Then he methodically unzipped and searched each compartment of the bag.
Finally Claire asked, “What are you looking for?”
“Your work phone.”
“It isn’t here. I left it in my condo.” That statement was true in all aspects, except that it wasn’t a work phone, but Claire’s only communication with Courtney.
“As you may remember, while at a function such as this, your attention should be on me and your duties at hand. I believe tonight you’re representing SiJo Gaming.” Despite the recent snack, hearing Tony say Simon’s company made Claire’s stomach twist. His tone and expression hardened, “As well as representing it to the masses downstairs, your behavior will go a long way in solving their current situation, or...” he paused, “making it public.”
Claire nodded, then remembering his propensity for verbal responses she replied, “I understand.”
“I am glad you do. You’ll get your phone back when this evening is done. I believe you’ll have enough on your plate, you don’t need another distraction.”
Next he handed her a printed page. Compartmentalized memories of previous news articles flooded her consciousness. Never had a similar situation been favorable. There was the Meredith Bank’s article and the information regarding Simon’s death. Tonight’s information wasn’t as dramatic, but the aftershocks could be. Claire’s hands trembled as she took the page from his hand.
“What is this?” she asked.
“It’s a news release. My press secretary released it moments before you arrived to the penthouse.” Smiling he added, “I just saw a text from Shelly; it’s already viral.”
Her stomach twisted, hearing the same word Meredith used regarding him. Move, countermove, the game continued. Claire focused on the page before her.
Associated Press May 24, 2013
Mr. Anthony Rawlings, CEO of Rawlings Industries, asks the public for patience at this difficult time. He believes two years ago he and the world were deceived. Despite circumstances and appearances, he is now convinced his ex-wife, Claire Nichols (Rawlings), is innocent regarding her unfortunate accusation of attempted murder.
This realization came to Mr. Rawlings through a series of personal and private encounters with Ms. Nichols. Listening to instinct and following his heart, a combination of resources which have successfully helped to create his global empire, Mr. Rawlings is now certain of Ms. Nichols innocence.
In an effort to correct the wrongful prosecution by the state of Iowa, Mr. Rawlings attempted to reverse the ruling of the judge, to no avail. In a moment of inspiration, Mr. Rawlings personally contacted Governor Bosley and requested Ms. Nichols’ pardon. With the assistance of Jane Allyson, Esquire and the signature of the late Governor Richard Bosley, the innocent Claire Nichols was pardoned and released from prison March 9, 2013.
Mr. Rawlings regrets initially denying connection to her pardon. He also refuses to answer who he believes was responsible for the poisoning which resulted in his near death and lead to the false accusations. He will only respond, “It is a personal issue.”
It has been reported that multiple longtime employees of Mr. Rawlings have been released of their duties.
At the current time, Mr. Rawlings is concentrating on renewing his relationship with Ms. Nichols. He confirms that theirs is a complicated and passionate bond and asks for privacy at this important time of healing.
As she processed the words, Claire’s stomach reeled with thoughts of Harry. Did Tony say this news was already viral? Had Harry seen it? Or was he too preoccupied trying to defuse the problems Tony set into motion at SiJo? With all her heart, Claire wanted to call Harry and explain. That wasn’t an option. Obviously, that’s why Tony took her phone before he handed her the press release.
“Why are you doing this?” Tears threatened to overflow her painted eyes. She couldn’t even pretend to be strong as she placed the page on a nearby table.
“I’ve tried to tell you my feelings for you. I’ve even apologized to you for past behaviors and attempted to explain.” Claire heard his attempted restraint as his tone once again hardened, “And yet, you blatantly flaunt another man at a shared function.”
Perhaps it was the food, but strength was returning, if only enough to respond. “I was not flaunting. We, you and I, are divorced. This,” she picked up the news release, “is false. You didn’t secure my pardon. You had nothing to do with it.”
“And who’s going to refute my claim? Governor Bosley, no, he’s dead. Jane Allyson, I think not.”
“Why Tony? What have you done to Jane?”
Grinning triumphantly, Tony stood and looked down at Claire, “Again, so much credit. I should be honored.”
Claire stood to meet his stance, her words slowed, “Tell me what you’ve done.”
“While I may be able to assume some responsibility, it is quite the opposite of what you suspect. Miss Allyson is currently enjoying the honor of an invitation to one of the most prestigious law firms in Des Moines.” Checking his phone, Tony read a text message. His shoulders relaxed and he continued, “As informative as this conversation is, we can continue it later. It’s almost eight, as you know this gala started at seven. You may remember – I do not like to be late.”
For the first time since she entered the penthouse, Tony evaluated the woman before him. “My, Claire, you do look lovely. I admit I doubted your financial ability to dress as would warrant my companion for the evening. There’s a complete ensemble in the master suite for you, but I like your choice.” Scanning her from head to toe, he stepped toward her and lifted the pearl of her grandmother’s necklace. His eyes shone in triumph as he said, “Yes, after you touch up your make-up, I believe we’ll be ready to attend our reunion gala.” Gently dropping the cream colored pearl, he softly brushed the back of his hand against her cheek. His voice dripped with bogus compassion, “Don’t look so strained, my dear, this is a happy occasion. You wanted our dinner public. Your wish is my command. Besides, you came here to represent SiJo Gaming. I promise this will bring that small company more publicity and positive public relations than would have originally happened.” Taking her small hands in his, he squeezed and said, “This is a win, win.”
Claire squared her shoulders. Her eyes found the fight she’d momentarily loss. Although the emerald green flashed and her voice seemed stronger, she submissively asked, “Where can I get ready?”
As he directed her upstairs, she noticed his demeanor calming. He had her over the proverbial barrel. If she chose to argue or disobey, SiJo would suffer. He’d given her no alternative. That, plus the content of a text message he’d just received, seemed to mellow him. Claire wondered why he could divide his attention between telephones, text messages, and those around him, and she couldn’t. Feeling the prickling sensation of the hairs on the back of her neck, she chose not to voice that question.
The ostentatiously large bath of the master bedroom suite contained rows of buttons capable of illuminating the room from every angle. The glass, chrome, mirrors, and tile sparkled as she depressed each switch. Claire beheld her reflection. In many ways she resembled the woman back at Amber’s condominium. Yet, the aching behind her temples, paler complexion, and strain behind her eyes reminded her of a woman she used to be, Mrs. Anthony Rawlings.
Some powder, blush, and lipstick helped the complexion. A few acetaminophens from her purse would eventually aid her head. Claire believed only the conclusion of this nightmare would relieve the stress. Nevertheless, when she emerged from the bath and found Tony waiting, in his custom Armani jacket and tie, she secured her mask and appeared the perfect companion. Old habits die hard.
*****
Minutes earlier, Sophia walked briskly through the crowded lobby of the Saint Regis Hotel. She glanced again at her watch, 7:56. Across the sea of people she saw Mr. George with a tall man in a nice suit. She watched as Mr. George acknowledged her to the other man. Both of their postures relaxed. She wondered if they’d been concerned she wouldn’t come.
“I’m sorry I’m late. The walk from the grand ballroom was farther than I realized.”
Mr. George smiled nervously, “Sophia, let me introduce Eric Hensley. Mr. Hensley, this is our very talented artist, Mrs. Sophia Burke.”
Eric extended his hand, “Mrs. Burke, so nice to finally meet you. I apologize for disrupting your evening. I certainly hope this meeting hasn’t caused you too much inconvenience.”
Sophia smiled, “Well, as you see, I’m dressed for the gala down the hall. However, after your generous allocation of my paintings, I felt unable to deny this request.”
“Mrs. Burke, I apologize. I’m not the one who purchased your art, although I have seen it and think very highly of it. I’m here representing someone else. He would like to meet with the two of you privately.”
“Privately, Mr. Hensley?” Sophia asked, “I was told this wouldn’t take long. My husband is waiting for me; dinner is soon.”
“I understand, Mrs. Burke. I will let my employer know that you aren’t able...”
The shocked expression on Mr. George’s face said more than the words from Mr. Hensley. Sophia interrupted, “No, I apologize. Of course, I’d like to meet with your employer. I do hope we will meet here.”
Eric continued, “Yes, upstairs in one of the Presidential suites.”
Sophia nodded at both gentlemen, “All right, let’s go.”
With that, the three of them walked toward a bay of elevators. Once inside Eric slid a plastic card in the reader and pushed the button for the twenty-seventh floor. The presidential suites were located on the floor below the penthouse. As the compartment ascended, Eric removed his telephone. “I must text my employer. He’ll be very happy to know you’re on your way to the suite.”
*****
Anthony and Claire did not pass GO... they did not pass through the waiting room, as she’d done earlier. When the golden elevator opened, a well-dressed gentleman met and greeted them, “Mr. Rawlings, we are so happy to have you with us tonight.”
Tony shook the man’s hand, “Yes, Mr. Wilkins, I apologize for our tardiness. My companion was not feeling well, but all is better now.” Tony inclined his head toward Claire, “Perhaps you remember my companion, Claire,” he paused momentarily, “Nichols.”
Claire extended her hand, “Mr. Wilkins, it is so nice to see you again.”
Though visibly shocked, Mr. Wilkins accepted Claire’s hand and smiled weakly, “Ms. Nichols, yes. It is a surprise to see the two of you,” he regrouped. “It is always a pleasure.” Turning back to Tony, “Now, Mr. Rawlings, and, Ms. Nichols, if you’ll follow me we will make your introductions.
Tony replied, “Although I’m here to speak, I am also representing Shedis-tics and Ms. Nichols is representing SiJo Gaming.”
Mr. Wilkins nodded affirmatively and promised proper introductions. Tony once again seized Claire’s hand and slowed their pace, allowing Mr. Wilkins to lead the way to the ballroom. He whispered, “Well, if that’s any indication, reactions alone should keep this night entertaining.”
She smiled and replied, “Entertaining is not the word I’d use.”
Her quickness delighted him. Though his soft voice divulged his amusement, his grip, and words revealed his warning, “Be careful, Ms. Nichols; don’t let your recently discovered independence get you into trouble.”
Utilizing her previous southern charm, she replied, “Why, Mr. Rawlings, I believe I am already in more trouble than I can handle.”
They both quieted as the doors opened and an MC announced, “Ladies and Gentleman, we are proud to introduce, Mr. Anthony Rawlings and his companion Ms. Claire Nichols.” A hush followed by applause echoed through the large ballroom. Except for a few waiters and waitresses, the room of people stilled and looked their direction. The MC continued, “We are honored to have Mr. Rawlings, of Rawlings Industries, with us this evening as one of tonight’s prestigious speakers and as a representative of Shedis-tics. Ms. Nichols is also present as a representative of SiJo Gaming.” There was more applause and Tony placed his hand in the small of Claire’s back. They stepped into the sea of people. Immediately, they were surrounded by people wanting to meet and speak to tonight’s honored guests.
A thing long expected takes the form of the unexpected when at last it comes.
—Mark Twain
Chapter 35
Intermittently sipping ice water, Claire sat at the head table, two seats to the left of the podium and listened intently to Tony’s speech. As the evening progressed, each scene she performed became easier, almost comfortable. After all, it was the role she’d created; she was the original costar in their perfect couple show. The only constraint to her seamless performance was the daunting concern lingering in the back of her mind. Each time her thoughts turned to Harry or Amber, Claire immediately compartmentalized them away. She couldn’t continue this charade if she allowed herself to worry about what was happening at SiJo or imagined the hurt in Harry’s soft blue eyes when he learned about her evening.
Tony’s speech concentrated on the National Center for Learning Disabilities and its many accomplishments. Claire noted how Tony rarely referred to the electronic tablet before him. Yet, he cited statistics and philosophies perfectly. She had to wonder how someone who just came from a confrontation like the one they’d just had upstairs, could perform so flawlessly.
It wasn’t just his speech, but everything about him; the way he conversed with others, his attentive looks, and even his light chatty dinner conversation. His social presence always had, and still did, fascinate Claire. No wonder he was so successful; this Anthony Rawlings was truly captivating. With time, she forgot the circumstance of her situation and fell into her own role as his companion.
That was what he wanted, and shouldn’t Claire Nichols know, Anthony Rawlings always got what he wanted. Listening as he concluded his speech, she found herself applauding appropriately and smiling approvingly at the handsome professional man before her.
When he turned from the podium and their eyes met, there was a moment when she was once again – Mrs. Anthony Rawlings. His velvety brown eyes filled with appreciation, directed at her. It was a look only shared with someone who knows you, truly understands the real person. How many people did Tony have like that in his life?
In the few months since her pardon, Claire had rekindled relationships with friends and family, as well as forged new ones. Who did Tony have?
As he took his seat, he reached for Claire’s hand, and gently lifted it from its resting place on her lap. This time, his grasp wasn’t a warning. Instead he lowered his head, keeping his eyes fixed on hers and brushed her knuckles with a soft sweep of his lips. The warm light touch made her smile. It was then she remembered the room of onlookers. Her cheeks reddened and she whispered, “Very nice speech, Mr. Rawlings.”
His smile lit up the room, “Thank you, Mrs. – Ms. Nichols, you are mighty remarkable yourself.”
Someone else was speaking from the podium. Their voices were a faint whisper against the sound from the nearby speaker; Claire raised her eyebrows and asked, “Mighty?” It was a strangely common word to hear from Tony.
He gently squeezed her soft hand, “Mighty.” They both smiled and turned to listen to the next orator, a woman from the Center for Learning Disabilities thanking the audience for their support.
Their most interesting exchange occurred before the meal was served. Truthfully, they weren’t able to make much progress moving about the room. Person after person and couple after couple made their way to them. When Claire saw Mr. and Mrs. Cunningham from Shedis-tics waiting for their attention, she decided to warn Tony she’d spoken with them earlier. Her social instinct served her well in the past; she knew it was best to listen. Therefore, before the Cunninghams made their way to Tony and her, Claire excused the two of them from the public conversation and whispered in his ear, “The Cunninghams from Shedis-tics are making their way to us. You should know I spoke with them a few minutes in the waiting room prior to being asked to your penthouse.” Claire practiced her statement. The asked could have been summoned, or perhaps dragged. She decided asked sounded best. Her temples throbbed at the pressure of once again weighing each word. She watched displeasure cloud his eyes and braced for his response.
“You were supposed to be brought up immediately, before you had time to talk with anyone.”
“Well, that is someone else’s concern. I was out of the loop on your plan. I just thought you’d want to know.” Maybe she was caving to his plan, but her verbose response was pointedly more abrupt than it would have been years before.
Tony assessed Claire’s expression for a moment and responded, “Thank you, I appreciate knowing. Did you discuss...” he hesitated.
She knew he wanted to ask about Harry. “I said I was alone because of an issue at SiJo. However, who I was supposed to be with was never mentioned.”
Tony nodded and he replied loud enough for others to hear, “Most certainly, I’ll gladly get you something to drink.”
Before he could move, a waiter appeared with a tray of crystal fluted glasses, the contents bubbled from the stem to the rim. Tony took two flutes and handed one to Claire with a nod. She returned his nod. Claire understood the conversation was done; he was happy with her honesty. Each such behavior helped her figurative chess king live one more day.
When the couple from Shedis-tics finally arrived, Tony gallantly proceeded, “Mr. and Mrs. Cunningham, it is always a pleasure.”
Roger Cunningham replied, “Mr. Rawlings.”
Tony continued, “Ms. Nichols tells me you have met?”
Claire wasn’t sure, but the Cunninghams appeared embarrassed or apprehensive about their earlier meeting. She joined the conversation, extending her hand, “Yes,” she smiled pleasantly at both of them, “I was so lost in that large room. I appreciated your friendly greeting.”
The Cunninghams visibly relaxed with her comment. Mrs. Cunningham spoke, “Ms. Nichols, it was a pleasure to meet you. I’m sure this collaboration between Shedis-tics and SiJo will be beneficial.”
Claire continued, her mask intact, “I’m sure you’re aware, it goes way back. Mr. Rawlings gave Simon his first opportunity in Silicon Valley with his dream job at Shedis-tics. Simon Johnson never forgot where he started and enjoyed the allegiance between the two companies.”
Mr. Cunningham replied, “It’s easy to forget the origins of our companies. Thank you for reminding us. I’m sure Mr. Johnson would be happy that the allegiance has remained.” Claire radiated confidence. Her never wavering smile successfully hid the contained emotions she successfully compartmentalized away. Mr. Cunningham indicated the man to his left. “Mr. Rawlings, Ms. Nichols, this is our promising new associate Derek Burke.”
Everyone shook hands. Claire evaluated Derek Burke: tall, polished, and polite. He approached Tony with an honest reverence yet with enough self-confidence to indicate he deserved the praise bestowed upon him. There were so many people who blabbered incoherently in Tony’s presence. Claire assessed Tony must also be impressed by Derek’s poise because they conversed longer than Tony usually did with one person. Unfortunately, his attention toward this new associate left Claire, once again, at the disposal of Mr. and Mrs. Cunningham. Their friendly greeting earlier in the waiting room turned to gushing compliments about Claire’s attire and the gala. More incoherent babbling, Claire thought.
Eventually, the next set of attendees made their way to Claire and Tony. When dinner was announced, Claire was relieved beyond words. She’d played her role well – very well. Even Tony complimented her regarding the Shedis-tics couple. Nevertheless, her body ached from standing in high heels and the stress. The act of sitting was a welcome relief.
At one point, before the speeches, Claire excused herself to visit the ladies room. She expected a warning glance or gesture. Surprisingly, she received neither. All the way to the restroom she considered borrowing someone’s cellphone and calling Harry. The problem was – she didn’t know his number. She called it multiple times a day. But, the number was programmed into her phone. After racking her memory, she gave up and made her way back to her new assigned seat.
On her way to Tony, she passed the round table where she should have been sitting. Claire noticed three empty seats. It was the only table within the large room with so many vacancies. The Cunninghams, Derek Burke and another couple were politely chatting. Claire moved quickly, to avoid another conversation with Hilary Cunningham.
*****
Sophia believed she’d suffocate if she spent another minute in the beautiful sitting room of the Saint Regis’ Presidential Suite waiting for the mystery buyer. Walking through French doors onto a balcony she observed the lights of the Golden Gate Bridge. Although almost the end of May, the evening air was brisk against her exposed skin. Mindlessly she wrapped her arms around her chest and dissected the view, as only an artist can do. The towers glowed more orange than gold, she thought as she as she viewed the illumination from Route One.
She stood motionless at the rail and inhaled the salty air. It wasn’t the same as Provincetown. There was something about Provincetown Harbor which was unique from San Francisco Bay. Nevertheless, closing her eyes and listening to the distant rush of waves, the similarities made her homesick. She glanced at her watch, almost nine thirty.
She and Mr. George had been in this suite both alone and with Mr. Hensley for an hour and a half. Though she’d communicated with Derek regularly, she knew he was upset. He should be, she reasoned. This was ridiculous and rude.
Sophia even felt sorry for Mr. Hensley. The poor man was doing his job. It truly wasn’t his fault his employer was delayed. The first excuse was about traffic on 280. When eight thirty came and went, Mr. Hensley kindly ordered them dinner. At eight forty five they fired up Mr. Hensley’s lap top and virtually viewed Sophia’s art. At nine fifteen Mr. Hensley received a text message and excused himself from the suite.
Now Sophia and Mr. George continued to wait. The night air helped relieve Sophia’s distress. Although she hadn’t been looking forward to Derek’s big gala, she knew how much it meant to him. He’d been anxiously anticipating spending this time with his boss and Mr. Cunningham’s wife. He was also very excited to meet the CEO of Shedis-tic’s parent company. He’d told Sophia his name and Hilary Cunningham had gone on about a woman named Nichols, but currently the CEO’s name escaped Sophia. More than anything she wanted to be back in that crowded, pretentious ballroom.
“Mrs. Burke, I apologize for this inconvenience.” Mr. George was now on the balcony too.
“I don’t blame you. It’s just that my husband is so close, and I should be with him.”
“Mrs. Burke, if this weren’t important, I wouldn’t have asked you to be here.”
“Do we even know the name of this mysterious buyer?”
Mr. George rubbed his temple. “No, Mr. Hensley is the one I’ve been dealing with.”
They both turned, upon hearing the door to the suite open. Mr. Hensley entered. When it was clear he was alone, they both exhaled and moved to join him within the suite. His voice was more assured. “I cannot adequately express my sincere apologies regarding this horrid meeting. Circumstances beyond anyone’s control have delayed my employer. He would, however, like to offer an olive branch.”
Sophia and Mr. George didn’t reply. It had been a long evening.
Mr. Hensley continued, “If you two could please have a seat. My employer would like to fund an exhibition of your work, Mrs. Burke. He was thinking of an exhibition which would run in multiple cities, in succession.”
Mr. George and Sophia sat. Her tired mind spun with this new offer. First, this mysterious man paid 2.3 million dollars for three of her paintings and now, he wanted to fund a moving exhibit. She momentarily forgot about Derek and the gala. Her thoughts now centered upon Mr. Hensley and the papers before him.
Eric went on, “Mr. George, commission of all sales at all locations would be directed through you. Mrs. Burke, if we could take a few minutes to discuss possible locations?”
Sophia nodded. She wasn’t sure her voice could sound composed.
*****
When the final speaker concluded, the MC from earlier came to the podium and announced, “Ladies and gentleman, the orchestra will be in place soon. If everyone could please make their way back out to the atrium, dancing will commence in less than a half an hour.”
Claire looked down at her watch. It was only nine-forty, but she was exhausted. If this were Harry she’d let him know. But it wasn’t. She was back to weighing each word. “Are we staying for dancing?”
Tony leaned closer, his eyebrows raised, “Do you want to dance?”
“No, I really don’t. I’m tired and I’d like to go home. If I could have my phone I’ll call for the SiJo car.”
Tony leaned back against his chair. His lack of response caused Claire’s skin to crawl. The contrary emotions his actions elicited made her feel as though she were with two different men. One minute he was courteous and social, the next he was his old domineering, controlling self. She tried to remain obedient. With each passing minute her insolence increased. Finally, she leaned toward him, smile glistening. From afar they appeared to be having a friendly chat. Claire’s voice betrayed her current emotions; she could only restrain them visually, audibly was too much. Her voice cracked as she questioned, “Have I done everything you asked?”
His external facade remained intact, “Yes, but I want more.”
