Текст книги "Truth "
Автор книги: Aleatha Romig
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Текущая страница: 26 (всего у книги 42 страниц)
Her heart sank, “Please, I’m tired.”
“Then perhaps you should go to bed.”
She saw the twinkle in his eye. Her mask momentarily shattered, she leaned closer, as panic filled each syllable, “I am not agreeing to sleep with you.”
His perfect smile remained unwavering; however, his eyes registered darker than she’d seen since the penthouse, “Sleeping, my dear, is not what I had in mind.”
She closed her eyes and waited for the distress to pass. When it merely subsided, she turned to her ex-husband, “I will go upstairs with you. I will complete this scenario. I will not have sex with you.”
“Why do you fight it?”
People mingled close. There were waitresses and waiters clearing tables. Other couples milled near. Claire inhaled and exhaled. The urge to cry was almost beyond her control. “May we please go upstairs? This conversation is upsetting me. If you want to maintain this charade, we’d better leave while I can maintain a smile.”
Tony stood and chivalrously offered Claire his hand. She exhaled and took it, allowing her fingers to be swallowed by his girth. “Ms. Nichols, shall we bid our ado’s to the appropriate people?”
“Yes, Mr. Rawlings. I am but so ready to close the curtain on this performance.”
Tony leaned toward her ear, “The press release is viral. This, my love, was only the first act.”
An older couple from the National Center for Learning Disabilities approached. With her stomach in knots, Claire bravely continued her duties. When they finally reached the golden elevator, Tony removed his phone from his jacket and sent a text. Claire remained silent until the doors opened to the Penthouse entry. “May I have my phone?”
Tony looked at his watch, 10:17 PM. “My dear, the night is still young.”
*****
Sophia looked at the list of cities: San Francisco, Seattle, Phoenix, Dallas, Chicago, Louisville, Atlanta, Miami, Charlotte, New York, Boston and Bangor. The tour consisted of two weeks in each city. Exhibition halls rented, advertised, and paid. Lodging and food stipends, as well as travel expenses. Mr. George would receive his customary fifteen percent. The mysterious buyer would receive five percent. The rest of all sales would go to Sophia. With two weeks in each city and the occasional time off, the tour would last approximately thirty months.
“I have some overseas commitments,” Sophia said as Mr. Hensley discussed the exhibitions.
“I’m sure that can be worked out.”
“I really need to discuss this with my husband.”
“Of course,” Eric replied as he glanced at his phone. “Let me give you this written information.” Looking to Mr. George, “You have my number. Please call when Mrs. Burke has made her decision.”
Mr. George responded, “Yes, we’ll talk.”
Eric Hensley turned to Sophia, “Mrs. Burke, again, I apologize for the inconvenience. I hope my employer’s olive branch will help to make amends for the missed gala. I’m sure you would like to join your husband. I look forward to talking to you again soon.”
Sophia stood with the realization she’d been released. “Thank you, Mr. Hensley. Mr. George and I will be back to you soon. Please tell your employer I do appreciate his offer.”
Eric walked Sophia to the door of the suite, “I will. Do you need an escort back to the ballroom?”
“No, thank you. I’ll be fine.”
Eric Hensley nodded as Sophia walked from the suite. As she waited for the elevator Sophia sent a text to Derek. I’M FINALLY RELEASED. DO YOU STILL WANT ME?
Her phone vibrated within seconds, DINNER IS DONE. DANCING IS ABOUT TO START. I’D LOOK FUNNY DANCING ALONE. I ALWAYS WANT YOU!
Sophia smiled as the mirrored cubical descended to the main level. When the doors opened, she hurried toward the ballroom.
The single biggest problem with communication is the illusion that it has taken place.
—George Bernard Shaw
Chapter 36
Perhaps it was her look of desperation or the tears that lingered on her perfectly painted lids. The reason was not yet revealed. Nonetheless, once the golden elevator closed and Tony and Claire were alone in the entry of the Saint Regis Penthouse, he opened his Armani jacket and handed Claire her phone. She contemplated taking it to an isolated area and calling Harry. Instead, she bravely stood before Tony, waited for it to turn on, ignored the icons indicating missed calls and messages, and scrolled for the number of the SiJo driver.
Although Tony stood resolute before her, Claire refused to turn away. Maybe it was a replay of a scene from their past. Maybe it was a move, counter move. Nevertheless, she waited while the phone rang. When the driver answered, she heard, “Ms. Nichols, this is Marcus, are you ready to be picked up?”
Looking Tony in the eyes, she replied, “Hello, Marcus, yes, this is Claire Nichols...”
She didn’t complete her sentence. Tony unexpectantly took the iPhone from her hand and spoke, “Hello, Marcus. Ms. Nichols will not need your assistance this evening.” Claire could no longer hear Marcus’s response, only Tony’s: “This is Anthony Rawlings.” “That is correct.” “Yes, you are relieved of your assignment.” “Thank you, good night.” He turned off the phone and placed it back in his pocket. His dark chocolate eyes glowed in the dim light of the penthouse.
Claire wanted to fight, she wanted her iPhone back, and she wanted to be back in Palo Alto with Harry and Amber. However, after Tony disconnected the call, she dejectedly walked to the sofa and collapsed. The tight reign she’d had on her emotions all night severed. How could it not? The tension was too much. With tears cascading down her cheeks, Claire closed her eyes and waited. She’d been here before. Not this hotel or this scenario, but one with enough similarity she knew the drill. Her only option was conceding – until her side regained strength.
Momentarily, Claire remembered Courtney, Brent, Jane, Amber, Harry, John and Emily. She wasn’t a lone chess piece – isolated, without support. The realization fortified her. Claire didn’t stand and declare victory. Nonetheless, she silently accepted their support and sat taller. Drying her tears she stared compellingly into the depths of her ex-husband’s dark abyss. If those people could stand for her, she’d sit straighter for them. Inhaling deeply and exhaling, Claire asked, “What do I need to do, to leave?”
Tony sat next to his ex-wife. His gaze mellowed. “Eric will take you home whenever you want. You may leave at any time.”
She didn’t hesitate, “Then I want to leave now.”
Tony nodded, and removed his phone from his jacket. It was at that moment she remembered why she was there, why she’d done as he asked, “Tony?” Her voice quivered with concern, “Is SiJo secure? Did they get their problem fixed?”
He placed his phone back in his pocket and replied, “Do you want to know what I have been thinking about all night?”
Claire struggled to stay on track, “What you’ve been thinking about? All right.”
“Many things, the first – how amazing you’ve been. I’ve endured many companions since our divorce. I have not enjoyed any of those evenings as much as I have tonight, being with you.”
Claire stared; she wondered what part of that statement was supposed to warrant her response, his many companions or her exemplary performance.
Tony continued, “Shelly was not happy with my desired press release, but I decided it was the only answer. Now the world knows of our reconciliation. It is official.”
“You say that, as if it’s beyond debate.”
He peered unquestionably into her emerald eyes, “Beyond challenge. It is public.” The failure is not an option went without saying.
“SiJo?”
“The breach has been resolved. It has been since about eight o’clock this evening.”
Claire exhaled, “Thank you.”
Tony accepted her gratitude and answered, “Actually, I will have Eric take you to your condominium. It’s probably better if you don’t know what else I’ve been pondering.”
Claire sat straighter, “Thank you, again. I’m ready to leave.” She watched as he nodded. The familiar attraction sucked her into his gravitational pull, and without thinking she took his hand in hers. Propelled by curiosity as well as concern, Claire asked, “What else have you been thinking?”
“Those black lacy panties.”
Claire released his hand and stood abruptly. “What did you say?”
“I’ve been thinking about your black lacy underwear; there was a small bow.” His smile turned sensual, “I’ve been wondering what color you’re wearing tonight.”
Her voice came out an octave higher, “How do you know about black lace panties?”
Tony stood, his hands grasped her shoulders. Their chests touched and his breath quickened, “Why can’t you believe I still love you?”
“Really? After an entire night of blackmailing me into being your companion, threatening my friend’s company with disaster, and now learning that you ... that you,” her body trembled, tears once again flowed, her voice broke and became a whisper, “raped me.”
His tone was more of a plea, “No, Claire. Don’t even suggest that.” He lifted her chin and their eyes met. “You agreed to everything. You more than consented; you wanted it as much as I did.” He released her chin and her face fell against his chest.
She remembered the day he came to the condominium. She’d been up half the night dreaming about him, about them. She remembered telling him good-bye, and she remembered wanting him.
Her knees weakened as his arms surrounded her. The sound of his heart echoed in her ear, and the familiar aroma of his cologne filled her subconscious. Claire melted into his embrace; she had no strength left from which to draw. He was right. She wanted him that day. Truthfully, even at this moment she enjoyed the familiar touch. There was something about the continual challenge that kept her senses electrified. The range of emotions he elicited and the depth of understanding they shared, created a bond. She’d fought it all night. Closing her eyes she conceded the current battle. There was no fight left within her.
Tony kissed the top of her head and scooped her up into his arms.
Her voice was soft, but determined, “No. Tony, not tonight.”
“I’m putting you on the sofa. You’re about to fall.”
She nodded against the silk of his shirt. The softness against her cheek and the steady drum of his heart calmed the aching in her temples. Together they sat on a large white sofa facing the tall windows. With Tony’s long legs stretched out onto a matching ottoman and his arm still tenderly around her shoulders, Claire removed her high heels and curled her legs onto the plush cushions. Molding to his side she accepted the comfort of his embrace. For the longest time they stayed like that, silent, watching the vista before them.
The towers of the Golden Gate Bridge glowed from the street level illumination. That same light reflected picturesquely onto the water below. The night was clear and the sky appeared a deep blue black. There were no visible stars, yet the moon shone low over the darkened land on the other side of the suspension bridge.
Claire felt his chest rise and fall with the inhale and exhale of a deep breath. His rich voice resonated through the silence, “Are you ready for me to call Eric?”
When he spoke the vibration tickled her cheek. She didn’t lift her head. “What I really want are answers.”
“What kind of answers.”
“Truthful.” It was what he’d asked of her in the past. Some of their deepest heart-to-heart discussions occurred in a similar pose, intimate times when they couldn’t see one another’s expressions. When Tony didn’t respond, Claire pushed on, “You say you still love me. You’re a very intelligent man. Surely you understand actions speak louder than words.”
“You said, no.”
“I don’t mean sex. I mean actions, like tricking me tonight and setting me up for your attempted murder.” His chest rose and fell again. She felt his warm breath blowing across her hair. “Tell me why.”
“I told you. It was a loop hole.”
Claire shook her head, “I don’t understand your puzzles.”
“You, too, are very intelligent. I don’t believe you’ve spent the past year and a half without suspicions.”
“I truly didn’t understand, until I received that box of information.”
“And what did you conclude from that?”
She contemplated her answer, as her fingers mindlessly played with the small buttons down the center of his silk shirt. Finally she spoke, “Well, it’s hard to answer. You see at first I thought you’d sent it. So, I thought you were adding insult to injury, you know, rubbing salt in my wounds.”
His embrace tightened, “And you thought I’d do that?”
“What else could I think? You set me up and left me.” Her emotion ladened voice trailed into silence. Closing her eyes, she remembered him at the jail in Iowa and saw visions of her prison cell. Her body trembled as she fought to contain the sobs within her chest.
“There are few people in this world whom I’ve cared about.” Tony’s voice had a faraway quality. “Few people whose opinion of me I value.” He lifted her chin and looked into her moist glistening emerald eyes. “I know you have reason to doubt me. Hell, reasons. But, Claire, you are one of those people.” She closed her eyes, and he continued speaking, “I need you to understand. I made promises, and I keep my word.”
She didn’t know where the words came from. It wasn’t something she’d been consciously thinking, yet they came anyway, “You made me a promise, on December eighteenth...”
He interrupted, each word coming slower than the one before, “Two thousand and ten, in our estate, to love you forever. I keep my word.”
His lips found hers and passion glued them together. It wasn’t fevered, like a wildfire roaring through the California Mountains. It was deep and painful; the kind of bond that yanks at your heart, until your only desire is to remove the pumping organ with your bare hands.
Abruptly, Claire stood. The room spun from her quick movement. Tony reached up and steadied her. She heard the honest concern in his voice.
“Are you all right? What happened?”
Claire picked up her shoes and smoothed her dress. “I’m fine. I want to go now.”
He didn’t argue, though his gaze never left hers. He reached inside his pocket and removed his phone. She waited while he spoke to Eric.
“Eric will have the car ready in the private garage in a few minutes.” Her expression must have asked her unspoken question about the location. In the past, cars were always outside. Tony replied, “If we enter the car in the garage, we can avoid paparazzi.”
“Oh, good idea. I need to use the restroom, and I’ll be ready to leave.” Claire turned to walk away and then turned back. “We? Tony I don’t need you to ride with me.” She paused, “I’d prefer you didn’t.”
“Then I will escort you to the car. If that is acceptable?”
Claire nodded and walked away; her dress swept the cool floor, while her shoes dangled from her fingertips.
Though considerably less tense than the earlier decent, the ride down the golden elevator was awkwardly quiet. Their reflections in the gold mirrored doors were much less polished than before. Claire’s eyes displayed signs of her multiple emotional breaks. Her lids were no longer painted to perfection and her mascara was gone. While freshening up in the restroom she cleaned the dark circles from under her eyes. If they’d planned on exiting through the lobby, she would have needed to redo a great deal of her make-up.
Tony’s jacket was gone and his tie hung loosely through his unbuttoned collar. His shirt contained clues to the location of her missing mascara. Multiple dark smudges stained the now wrinkled white silk.
When the elevator opened to the private parking area, Eric immediately opened the door to the back seat. Claire nodded to Tony’s driver and sat down. She heard Tony’s voice, “Ms. Claire would prefer to ride back to Palo Alto alone. Please call me when she is safely to her door.”
“Yes, Mr. Rawlings.”
Claire heard Tony say, “I can get this.” She then saw Eric move around the front of the car to the driver’s seat. Next, Tony’s face appeared in the opening of the door. She looked into his dark tired eyes. In his outstretched hand was her cellphone. She took it and placed it upon her lap.
“Thank you, Tony. Good-bye.”
“Don’t forget the news release.” His sturdy voice once again held his authoritative CEO tone, the one that gave orders and expected unquestioning obedience. She’d heard that tone for years, directed both at her and at others. Instinctively, the tone heightened her defenses, caused her neck to straighten, and eyes to blaze. She never liked that tone.
“How could I?”
“We will need to discuss it further.”
“I’m discussed out.” Later Claire would reflect on their candor in Eric’s presence. Sometime ago Tony’s intimate staff became part of the woodwork. Claire didn’t mean to say they weren’t people, but, on most occasions she’d forget they were even present.
“I can tell you’re tired. Go get some sleep. We can continue our discussion tomorrow before I leave for Iowa.”
Claire closed her eyes. The last thing she wanted was Tony in Palo Alto with Harry. “I have plans tomorrow. Call me after you’re back to Iowa.”
“This would be better discussed in person.”
She exhaled, “Let me meet you somewhere.”
His eyes returned her blaze. “Ten o’clock. Text me the location. Palo Alto is fine.”
Claire nodded. She didn’t want to meet, but the concession was better than having him at Amber’s condominium. “Tomorrow.” she replied.
“Tomorrow, Claire.” He closed the door.
Eric eased the Mercedes C-Class out of the underground garage and around the front of the Saint Regis Hotel. Along the sidewalk, under the bright lights of the canopy, were multitudes of people. Some had cameras while others only wanted to see the attendees of the gala, as they made their way to the line of waiting cars. Claire reclined against the soft leather seat, thankful for Tony’s discretion, and the tinted windows. No one seemed to notice the dark grey sedan as it made its way to US 101.
Once on the highway Claire turned on her iPhone. The time appeared, 12:13 A.M., where had the night gone? The screen filled with messages: 16 missed calls, 3 voice mails, and 11 text messages. She debated. Should she listen and read, or should she just call?
Sweeping the screen with her finger she sought her call log and tapped Harry’s name. Her heart beat rapidly as the sound of ringing filled her ears. Glancing forward she saw Eric’s eyes in the rearview mirror. She knew anything she said would be repeated to Tony as soon as she exited the car.
Harry’s voice sounded strained, “Claire.”
She took a deep breath, “I’m finally on my way home. I should be there in about an hour.”
Silence... finally he asked, “Can you talk right now?”
Her heart broke hearing the emotion in his voice. “Not really.”
“Is he with you?”
She imagined his clenched jaws and strained blue eyes. “No, I’m being driven by his driver.”
“And he can hear you?” There seemed to be relief in the knowledge Claire wasn’t currently with Tony.
“Yes.”
“I’ll tell Amber you’re on your way. Will you please come here first?”
Although she was exhausted beyond belief and didn’t want any more confrontations, Claire knew she owed this to Harry. “Yes, as soon as I can.”
“Can we work this out?”
She thought about the news release. Had he seen it? Were there pictures of her and Tony on the internet? What did he think happened? A tear fell from her eye as she replied, “I hope so.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
She nodded into the phone as the connection ended. He didn’t say good-bye. She couldn’t remember a time in the past when he hadn’t said good-bye. Claire leaned her head against the seat and watched the lights of the highway. She thought about checking the messages and missed calls. Instead she watched the lights.
Power resides only where men believe it resides.
—George R.R. Martin, A Clash of Kings
Chapter 37
Sophia gripped tightly to Derek’s elbow as they walked past the crowd of onlookers. The bright lights of the hotel’s canopy illuminated the night. A gentleman wearing a black uniform opened the door of the Shedis-tics’ limousine. Gracefully Sophia lowered herself into the spacious compartment and settled into the plush leather seat. Once Derek was beside her, the door closed and the car eased forward. It was the same car which brought them to the gala. Sophia whispered in Derek’s ear, “I like some of the perks with your new job!”
Momentarily closing her eyes, Sophia enjoyed the silence of the limousine. Compared to the gala, the tranquility was heaven. With the multitudes of people talking, the music, people dancing, and the paparazzi outside the hotel, for the past three hours noise had been constant. Suddenly she remembered the presidential suite. Sophia struggled with her mixed emotions. She was angry she’d missed part of the gala, sad at disappointing her husband, and excited about the mystery buyer’s newest offer.
Derek’s familiar touch warmed her hand and brought her thoughts back to the man beside her. She leaned against his sturdy shoulder. Her cheek brushed the sleeve of his new tuxedo while her fingers played with the satin lapels.
“Are you tired?” Derek asked.
“I am, but I enjoyed the dancing very much.”
“Me too.” He kissed the top of her head.
Sophia exhaled; she’d already apologized a hundred times for missing the meal and speeches. Nevertheless, she felt the need to do it again, “Derek, I’m so sorry I missed part of the gala.”
“You don’t need to keep apologizing. I understand. It’s your job.”
Sophia nodded. She rarely thought of herself as employed. Yet, Derek was right; art was her job. She reasoned he understood job responsibilities and equating her temporary absence in that way made it easier for him to justify.
Derek continued, “I just wish you could have met Mr. Rawlings. Roger said he doesn’t visit often.”
“How was his speech?”
“Excellent. What surprised me was how much he knew about my projects. The ones I’m currently working on. He asked specific questions. I had this strange feeling I was being quizzed.”
Sophia grinned, “Well if you were, my guess is you responded appropriately and received an A.”
“I don’t know. I hope you’re right.”
“Hilary sure likes to gossip.” Sophia said, stifling a yawn.
“Yes, I noticed. She was in seventh heaven with Mr. Rawlings’ ex-wife.”
“I think she was disappointed the ex-Mrs. Rawlings didn’t sit at our table. However, I think that poor woman is lucky. Hilary would’ve eaten her alive with her relentless questions.”
Derek replied, “Well, I only said hello to Ms. Nichols, but she seemed nice enough.”
Sophia sighed, leaning into her husband’s arm. “I missed so much. According to Hilary, the whole thing will be all over the gossip pages, probably before we’re home. I’m usually not into that kind of thing, but I may make an exception.”
Derek lifted his arm and placed it around her shoulders. Sophia again lowered her head to soft material of his tuxedo. His words rang clear and true, “I think people deserve privacy, no matter who they are...”
Nodding in agreement, his voice faded away as she closed her eyes. Her mind filled with thoughts of the moving art exhibit. She hadn’t had the chance to mention it to Derek. The gentle vibration of the car soothed her. Sophia decided she didn’t have the energy to discuss it now. It could wait until morning.
The next thing Sophia knew, Derek was gently shaking her. His soft voice slowly infiltrated her dreams, “Hey, sleepy head, we’re home.” Her eyes fluttered; she saw her husband’s sweet smile.
The Shedis-tics’ driver opened the door and cool night air filled the limousine’s cabin. Derek thanked the kind man, and they made their way up the walk to their condominium.
At such an early hour the street was quiet and a velvety dark sky concealed the stars above. Derek leaned down to his wife’s ear. With her hair pinned back he had easy access. In a deep sexual voice he whispered, “Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?”
Her gray eyes sparkled as she looked up to his loving expression. “Yes, but I like hearing it.”
Stepping into the foyer of their new home, Derek turned from the closed door and traced his finger from Sophia’s ear to the apex of her plunging neckline. The light touch sent chills throughout her body. Suddenly sleep didn’t seem important. She was very glad she’d napped. With his hands caressing the gathered waist of her evening gown, his lips lingered near her ear and her breath quickened.
“I was wondering,” his words contacted her skin in hot bursts of air, “if perhaps – you need – help – getting out – of this – amazing dress?”
Sophia nodded as the silk chiffon gown molded against his black tuxedo. Despite the layers of material she could feel his intention against her hip. “I do,” she whispered.
Once within the confines of their new bedroom, the day’s disappointments and satisfactions melted away. Derek no longer remembered the frustration of sitting alone as everyone else sat in pairs. Sophia forgot the stress of waiting for a mystery buyer who never arrived. Derek’s excitement at speaking to Mr. Rawlings faded. Sophia’s exhilaration at the new amazing offer waned. Their joy came in each other, the ecstasy of pleasing and being pleased.
When they finally settled into the soft satin sheets and gave into sleep, calm contentment relaxed them. They both glowed with the serenity associated with compete trust in the person by your side.
*****
Text message sent: May 25: 01:17 AM – To: Anthony Rawlings
MS NICHOLS JUST EXITED GRAY MERCEDES. SHE SAFELY ENTERED HER BUILDING.
Claire didn’t need to knock on Harry’s door. When she turned the corner in the hall, she saw him leaning against the jam in his open doorway. She sighed in relief at the sight of him; his casual appearance made her cheeks rise. She saw his customary faded jeans and black t-shirt had replaced the tailored tuxedo from earlier. His blonde hair now lay in waves, unrestrained by the earlier gel.
Prior to entering the building Claire gave Harry the opportunity to avoid this meeting. She sent him a text message. After all, it was almost one thirty in the morning. It said: MINUTES AWAY. DO YOU STILL WANT ME TO COME BY?
His short reply appeared almost immediately, YES.
It wasn’t possible to read emotion or attitude in a text message. Nevertheless, as Claire neared and her eyes met Harry’s, his unhappiness loomed omnipresent, surrounding them in a cloud of despondency. His hardened expression cooled her progress, almost stopping Claire in her tracks. Instead of summer skies, Claire saw ice in his light blue eyes. She searched for miniscule signs of acceptance. Instead she found frost. His lips pressed together in tight straight line.
As her glistening high heels propelled toward him, the scent of whisky filled her lungs.
“Well, if it isn’t the belle of the ball?” he asked cynically.
He gestured for Claire to enter. Initially she planned on kissing him hello. Even with his bare feet and her shoes, he stood several inches taller. In order to contact his lips or cheek she’d need to stand on her tip-toes, or he’d need to bend. The furrowing of his brow, as she neared, weakened her resolve. Claire looked pleadingly into his cold eyes, as she passed, entering his foyer.
Throughout the entire car ride, Claire divided her time between reliving the evening’s confrontations with Tony and imagining her reunion with Harry. It was at least thirty minutes into the trip before she realized she and Eric were driving in complete silence. It wasn’t as if they’d ever chatted, but in the past their relationship was cordial. Nevertheless, when Claire recalled his persuasive behavior from earlier, she felt no desire for familiarity. Besides, her mind was too full of thoughts and memories; the outside world seemed temporarily irrelevant. It was when those thoughts incited tears that Claire asked Eric to turn on some music. Truly it was an attempt to conceal her crying from Tony’s informant.
Interestingly, Claire noted Eric never asked her where she lived. Perhaps more thought provokingly, she never questioned his knowledge. Music was their only topic of conversation. Eric’s only words during their entire drive were those in his reply, “Yes, ma’am, do you have a preference?”
She shook her head to the eyes in the rearview mirror and turned again to the side window. The interior of the Mercedes filled with the sounds of Doc Severinsen and Louis Armstrong. Claire doubted the moisture on her cheeks and occasional ragged breath escaped Eric’s observation. Nevertheless, she took comfort in the fact the jazz music muffled her involuntary sounds.
In Claire’s likely scenarios for their reunion, she imagined Harry sad, hurt, or more optimistically relieved that she’d made it back. She imagined his supportive embrace as she explained the events of the night. Not once during her hour long journey did she foresee anger. Why would she? In the three months she’s known Harry, she’d never witnessed him upset.
Stepping into his entry, Claire saw and felt the aura of his fury. After dealing with Tony’s anger, she was now face-to-face with an obviously irate Harrison Baldwin. Her imagined scenarios paled in comparison. This was worse than she’d predicted.
He displayed the source of his discontentment on the table near the sofa. Laid out for her viewing pleasure were pages of information, multiple internet stories complete with photos featuring her.
Shit, she thought, this stupid gala only happened five hours ago. How did all of this get out already?
Claire walked silently to the table and scanned the headlines: Rawlings’ Reunited, Anthony Rawlings Asks for Privacy, Innocent? Anthony Rawlings’ New Claim. There were more but she just couldn’t stomach to read each one. Each article contained pictures. There was one photo of them during the introductions, Tony’s arm behind Claire’s back. They were both smiling. Another picture was during the meal. He appeared to be smiling at something she was saying, a friendly conversation. There was another picture of them standing together talking to another couple. The other couple was not identified. Claire read the caption:
EVERYONE IS TALKING! The big news at this year’s National Center for Learning Disabilities Fundraising Gala, in San Francisco, is not the millions of dollars raised for a worthy charity. It is the reunification of Anthony Rawlings and Claire Nichols. Their unexpected inseparability during the festivities begs the question: is this merger only personal or will it include Shedis-tics and SiJo Gaming?
