Текст книги "Consequences"

Автор книги: Aleatha Romig

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 36 страниц)

  There are two things a person should never be angry at,

whattheycanhelp,andwhattheycannot. —Plato

 Chapter 16

She sat at her table, writing. Tony couldn’t see what she was writing. The cameras didn’t have enough zooming capability. Her body language didn’t look nervous. It showed a proud and defiant pose. He watched as she wrote, sitting straight, her neck tall and proud. The only hint of uneasiness would be the way her feet fidgeted under her chair.

From his office screens, he could access different views of the room. From another view, she sat farther away, and he could see her bed in the background. Of course, there was the view that kept the bed centered, but the table wasn’t visible from that one.

Trying to contemplate his options and the consequences of her actions, Tony closed his eyes and reviewed the day. When he entered her suite this morning, he anticipated anxiety but found calm. And that smile when they got in the car. God! Her smile when it was real melted him. Her emerald eyes could glisten and shine. Of course, he didn’t see her real smile much. He did today, and seeing her with his friends, she was perfect.

He told himself the reason he had trouble keeping his eyes off her was strictly because he needed to monitor her behavior. It had nothing to do with how beautiful she looked. Now as he watched the screens, he wondered what she was thinking. Was she thinking about him, about her future? It was all up to him. She knew that. He knew that. The power didn’t give him the satisfaction it once had.

Damn, why in the hell did Sue give her that phone number? What did they talk about when he wasn’t there? His head filled with unanswered questions and plausible scenarios. She wanted to leave him. Why wouldn’t she? Did she initiate a plan? Why wouldn’t she follow his rules?

His internal monologue momentarily caused him to lose focus of the screens. Now as he scanned, she was gone. He scanned the other views until he noticed the open door to the balcony. He could only see the back of her head. He really needed another camera installed.

Over an hour had passed since they came home. Making Claire wait for him was part of his plan. But watching her, it seemed she controlled her nerves better than he. Maybe he needed fresh air too. No, he needed to make a decision. It was his mantra. She knew the rules. It doesn’t matter if you do something 99 percent right, perfection is required. The fact remains she must have broken his rules. He needed to make a decision. Behaviors have consequences, consequences can be unpleasant. Tony told himself he had warned her, she chose not to listen.

She inhaled and exhaled. The country air filled her lungs with cool, refreshing strength. Claire thought about the people she met and about talking and laughing. It was fantastic. Courtney’s reassurance and Tony’s unusually kind smiles relieved her initial anxiety. She knew it was a charade. But it was fun, getting out around people. Then the telephone number came. It boggled her mind that something so incredibly simple could cause such ridiculous repercussions.

She thought about Tony. He would enter her suite soon, of course without knocking. And he would have some verdict regarding her insubordination. The fact that she wasn’t insubordinate wouldn’t alter his decision. She wondered if he handled business issues this way too, without input. With her mind scrambling, she asked herself, Do I have any options?

Her wild emotions caused a rush of adrenaline concealing the cool night air from her consciousness. His impending decision terrified her. His smiles today gratified her and his physique in jeans aroused her. How could her body defy her mind so severely? Claire believed her body was the true offender of insubordination!

Thinking about Bonnie made Claire laugh at the irony. She thought Claire was securing a sugar daddy. The reality couldn’t be farther from the truth. However, at that moment, instead of wanting to explain she was honored to be associated with Anthony Rawlings. Irrational best described her thoughts. Maybe if she could get her body and mind to work together she could devise some kind of plan. The sound of the suite door closing brought her thoughts to the present.

Tony didn’t speak but his eyes did, acknowledging Claire on the balcony and bidding her to enter. She did. Determined to continue the bogus act of strength she walked within inches of him and stood her ground. He didn’t greet her, instead he lifted her chin. His eyes looked as cold as his hand felt. Claire knew without a doubt this will not be good. “What did we discuss just before we arrived at the Simmonses?”

Her eyes flashed fire but her words sounded respectful. “I told you I wouldn’t let you down and I didn’t.”

“Actions have consequences, I have told you that. Why is that difficult for you to understand?”

“Tony, it isn’t. If—” He stopped her, not with a gentle finger to the lips but with a slap to her left cheek. Claire stopped speaking, her eyes moist, but she refused to look away or back down.

“Actions have consequences. I have been thinking quite a bit about an appropriate punishment.”

Claire decided she had nothing to lose. There was punishment coming, so she might as well push her luck. “Tony, if you would please let me talk. I know your decision is set, but allow me to speak.” Impressed by her strength, he nodded and told her to make it quick. “I was nervous about going to this barbeque today, but I had a wonderful time. Courtney was the perfect hostess and very charming. Everyone was nice to me. I really didn’t know what to expect.” She tried to hurry. “Well, everyone except Bonnie. By the way, I overheard Bonnie and MaryAnn talking and everyone there had your back. That includes me. And Sue, well Sue is lonely. She told me that Tim works long hours, which she mentioned he enjoys, but she is lonely. At some point, she asked me for my number. I don’t have one, as you know. But I thought that sounded dumb, everyone has a cell phone, so I just said I didn’t have it with me and I didn’t know my number. I never call myself. So I am guessing that is why she gave me her number. I really didn’t know she was going to do it. If I did, would I have her do it right in front of you?”

Tony hadn’t stopped her, so she decided to keep rambling, pacing a little. “When Courtney introduced me to Tim and Sue, I told Tim I’d heard good things about him from you. I can only guess that made Sue and I instant friends. Women love to hear good things about their husbands. I would have told you if I’d gotten the number without you knowing. I have no way of calling. And if I just didn’t call, it would appear rude. I know how you feel about appearances.” She didn’t know what else to say, but at least she had said her piece. “I really did well today, this is just a misunderstanding, and your friends are very nice.”

She stood and maintained eye contact. Tony continued speaking as if no words had been spoken. “I have decided you may choose. Perhaps you would like to know your choices?”

Claire’s heart sank. She lowered herself into a chair at the table and looked away. Nothing she said mattered. He hadn’t listened to a word. “Tony, your decision is made, I don’t care.” Defeat filled her voice. She looked at the table, where on a piece of paper was a list of positives from her day.

“The first option is a two-week timeout in your suite.” What? That never crossed her mind. There was no way, she couldn’t take that. She glared at him.

Tony watched her. She stood and met him face to face. God, her strength captivated him. “Then I choose number two.” Claire’s voice sounded resilient. He didn’t respond. The silence grew. He wanted her. He wanted to tell her he was sorry, he had overreacted, but that wasn’t him. He couldn’t.

“Very well, undress.”

She didn’t hesitate, she obeyed his command. She started by unbuttoning her blouse, one button at a time. Then she shimmied out of her slacks, she didn’t argue or complain, and maintained eye contact the entire time. Tony’s arousal was becoming difficult to conceal. Her body before him trembled slightly and his demeanor dissolved.

“Claire, come here.” She did. He held her shoulders and looked into her green eyes. “Damn you, Claire.” He pulled her close. “I make snap decisions based on the evidence I see. Appearances are important. I assumed you had something planned with Sue, something that I hadn’t approved. I was wrong. Your speech,” he lifted her chin, gently this time as his tone softened, “was very brave.” He watched her expression. “It helped me see that I’d jumped to the wrong conclusion.”

He put his head down on her hair. Claire exhaled at the unexpected revelation: Anthony Rawlings was apologizing. She stood still while he encircled her with his arms, her trembling ceased and she let her face fall against his chest, inhaling the scent of smoke on his shirt. She felt his erection against her hips and the tension began to build within her depths. Tony’s tone, now mellow, “Up until the moment Sue handed you that note I was extremely proud of you. You were amazing. Courtney told me that about ten times.” Claire lifted her eyes to see his expression, smiling matching his tone. Claire smiled and felt her body relax against his. “There is something I would like us to do.”

The relief of his apology overwhelmed her. Her body continued its disregard for reason. She wanted him to take her and didn’t hesitate. “Whatever it is, yes.”

“Your hair, smells like smoke. I would like us to shower.” Claire took Tony’s hand and led him to her shower. He followed. Once there she helped him undress, and he started undoing her braid. Under the warm spray of the shower he wet her hair, added shampoo, and gently massaged. “Your hair is beautiful, but it really needs trimming. And the weather is getting colder, so maybe some highlights. I believe you will enjoy the spa. It has a great reputation.”

She turned to face him. “You didn’t cancel my appointment?”

Smiling tenderly he said, “No, I was hoping something would change my mind.”

After working the cream rinse into her hair, he took the shower gel and began to lather Claire’s back. Wrapping his arms around her, he lathered her breasts and stomach. Finally, he couldn’t control himself any longer. Claire didn’t want him to. His tender touch caused an ache deep inside of her. He turned her around and lifted her. She wrapped her legs around him and his mouth excitedly nibbled her breasts. His tongue created intense sensations as it tantalized her hard round nipples. She gripped his wide shoulders and let her fingers run through his wet hair as his strong arms and torso held her body against the wall of the shower and moved her. She yearned for him. He tempted her with his fingers until self-control was beyond his reach. He filled her completely. Thunderous convulsions overtook her body. She expected his actions, but the fulfillment made her back arch and sounds escape her lips. Their bodies moved as one, not because of instructions or demands. Instead, the cause was erotic carnal physical instinct. In time the ardent passion moved from the shower to the bed. He received his desires, but he made sure Claire did too.

At some point during the night, Tony asked Claire what she overheard. She told him. At first, she didn’t want to say anything about her looking for a sugar daddy, but why hide anything now? Tony laughed.

He was happy to learn about MaryAnn and that Courtney and Sue were so helpful throughout the day. She told Tony how much she liked seeing him in jeans. Definitely sexy, she told him. He told her he preferred her without jeans or anything else. That started them again.

Claire’s spa appointment would be the following Wednesday. Initially she didn’t want to go, but now she thought about Chicago and Tony’s apartment. “How many apartments do you have?”

“As many as I need. I don’t like hotels much.” They both drifted off to sleep.

Tony woke before his alarm. Hearing Claire’s soft and delicate breathing, he saw her curled into a ball on the far side of the bed, covered only by a sheet. With the pale light of the lingering moon he noticed her chestnut hair fanned around her head, damp and wavy, her body petite, soft, and supple. He carefully lifted the blankets and covered her. As he watched, the warmth of the blanket allowed her to unconsciously relax and settle into a deeper slumber.

This was not his plan. Things had been in the works for so long and now emotions were wreaking havoc. It was supposed to be easy. Her only purpose was for physical enjoyment, release of energy, and personal pleasure. He had watched her for so long. He told himself he deserved that. Yet somehow, now while at work, in a meeting, on a plane, anywhere, without warning he would recall something she said or did and a smile would come to his lips. Tony even noticed strange looks from Brent, a visible sign that his thoughts were revealing themselves.

This was wrong. Tony didn’t want to have feelings. The sex was great. It was okay to want her, dominate her, and control her. It was not okay to want to be with her, please her, and love her. Yet every one of his senses desired Claire. Watching her sleep, he wanted to see her emerald-green eyes that flared when she was upset with him, her neck that straightened with defiance even when her words accommodated his demands, and her body that filled his every waking thought. He wanted to touch her skin, warm, soft yet firm, and her long silky hair. He wanted to taste her. He wanted to smell her scent when he first came home, clean and fresh with her chosen perfume; and the aroma of her after sex, warm, moist, and exhausted. And he wanted to hear her. At this moment, he heard her faint breathing but he also liked to hear her endless talk. He knew she longed for companionship and camaraderie. He also knew he was currently her only choice. He tried desperately to appear uninterested, but her voice filled him with an intense desire he’d never experienced. That desire had a sexual component, but it also contained a desire to fulfill her yearnings. Tony never previously considered fulfilling someone else’s desires. His entire adult life had been about his wants, goals, ambitions, and needs.

As his mind pondered these dilemmas, he thought about her just a few feet away. He wanted her again. He knew he could wake her and she would accommodate his demands. Laying his head back on the pillow he remembered the sex they experienced and wondered when did this happen? He no longer wanted to dominate but to satisfy. This situation was completely unplanned. His entire life, business, everything was calculated, how could this happen?

He hadn’t realized until he heard himself apologize. When he entered her suite he knew what he was going to say. It wasn’t what he said. Anthony Rawlings could count on one hand the people to whom he’d apologized. Now this woman, a piece of his plan, was on that shortlist.

At the Simmonses she performed beyond his expectation. Then his overreaction almost ruined everything. Claire’s strength, standing up to him, explaining the situation, and then not complaining yet complying with his punishment touched him. But when she was relieved by his realization, instead of upset by his overreaction, she melted him.

In reflection he berated himself. He should have stayed indifferent, dominant, and in charge. The words from his past echoed in his memory, “Only the weak apologize.” He reconsidered waking her, fulfilling the indifferent domineering qualities that would prove he wasn’t weak. Then he saw her peaceful expression and thought of her giving and surrendering herself over and over. Quietly, he got out of bed, put on his trousers, and left her suite. Stepping into the corridor, he decided to work out.

  There is something perverse about more than enough.

When we have more, it is never enough. It is always somewhere

out there, just out of reach. The more we acquire,

themoreelusiveenoughbecomes. —Unknown

 Chapter 17

Clawson tried one more time. “It is very easy. Textiles have made you a fortune, a fortune you can now plant and invest to grow a lot more. This is 1977. The real money isn’t in creating. It is in owning and selling. See these figures?” He handed Nathaniel the reports. “You have capital not only in profit margins but also in secured retirement plans. That money is just sitting there, waiting for those employees to get old. Hell, many of them won’t be eligible for retirement for another twenty years. Use that money, invest it. Grow it. Right now, it’s just rotting away in these accounts.”

Samuel stayed quiet as long as he could. His father’s dark eyes were starting to flash dollar signs. “Clawson, the problem with your plan is that our employees own that money, not us. They’ve entrusted us to keep that money for them so it will be available when they retire. And it is growing interest.”

“With all due respect, Mr. Rawls, have you seen the interest rates? Your employees will have their money because you aren’t going to lose it. You’re growing it. Then when the day is done, they’ll have their retirement and Rawls Corp. will have additional profits.” Clawson spoke to Samuel, but hoped Nathaniel was the one listening.

He was. Nathaniel said, “Jesus, Samuel, have you looked at these reports? Where are the figures on Hong Kong Industrials? Since the exchange-trade options change of seventy-three, it’s a cake-walk to manipulate these options.” Clawson handed Nathaniel the reports. “We set our strike price. If the stock price starts to move out of the option near expiration, we set the cap.”

Clawson smiled. The old man was finally getting it. “You have the capital to do that.”

Samuel threw a report on the table. “It isn’t our capital.”

Looking first to the suddenly disorganized stacks of papers, then to his son, Nathaniel’s dark eyes darkened. “Like hell it isn’t. It is my goddamn company. I built it from nothing. Do you think those employees you’re so damned concerned about would have a job if I didn’t work my ass off thirty years ago?”

  Who will tell whether one happy moment of love or the joy of breathing or walking on a bright morning and smelling the fresh air is not worth all the suffering and effort which life implies. —Erich Fromm

 Chapter 18

A week later, they flew to Chicago. Tony absorbed himself in his work and laptop as Claire sat quietly and thought about the city. It had been a frequent haunt during her college days. Valparaiso is only an hour and twenty minutes from the Loop. She and her sorority sisters would spend entire afternoons or evenings enjoying the sights. They would shop, dine, or go to the theater. They knew their way to all the best deals.

Claire remembered the fun as they rode the L and the train around the city. Sometimes they would go with guys to a baseball game, usually the Cubs. She enjoyed watching people at Wrigley Field. Not really a baseball fan, she liked warm evenings with a group of friends, enjoying hot dogs and beers. They would all pile into someone’s vehicle and road-trip. It really didn’t get better than that. They were even known to blow off classes for a day at Wrigley. Claire rationalized it as academic research, her major being meteorology and baseball held outdoors, it all made sense.

Friends made baseball fun. To Claire, the guys, all from the same fraternity, were more like brothers. After a brief romance her freshman year she decided to concentrate on school instead of love. Suddenly, Claire realized that her reminiscing made her sad. She wondered where those friends were today. She became so busy concentrating on her career. She lost touch with most of them. Maybe if they’d stayed connected they would have noticed her missing last March.

As the jet approached the private airport, Claire saw the skyline against the blue of the lake. She told herself to put the sadness away. Compartmentalize. She should concentrate on great times in Chicago. But she wondered, when driving there in an old minivan, she knew fun times were ahead. Now leaving the private jet and entering the backseat of the leased limousine, what was in store?

Eric chauffeured the limousine as they drove toward the lake at seven thirty in the morning. Claire could see the buildings, smell the exhaust, and feel the vibration of the road as the car turned north on Lake Shore Drive. She felt more at home than she had in months. Filled with excitement, she wanted to talk about everything they passed: McCormick Place, Soldier Field and Grant Park. As they approached Millennium Park, she thought about the concerts that took place all summer long.

She didn’t speak. Tony was occupied on his cell phone. He’d been in a conversation with someone since they landed. His voice sounded amicable but she could see his body language. It told another story. Listening to Claire give a tour of Chicago wouldn’t help his disposition. She also worried that he may not approve of her comfort level with Chicago. Originally she didn’t want to join him on this trip, now she couldn’t wait to enjoy the city.

The limousine pulled up to the Reliance Building and Tony gathered his briefcase, laptop, and cell phone. Eric came around and opened the door. Still talking on his phone, Tony nodded to Claire and got out. She found herself in the familiar situation, being chauffeured to a completely unknown destination.

Before they arrived, Tony informed her she could rest at his apartment. He hadn’t mentioned the location or when he would return. She took a deep breath and waited while Eric moved the car through the crowded streets. In a short time the limousine idled in a line approaching the front entrance to the Trump Tower.

Eric lowered the window that separated the two compartments and gave Claire the first information on her destination. “Ms. Claire, Mr. Rawlings’s apartment is the eighty-ninth floor of Trump Tower. Security has your name and will allow you access. As you enter the main doors, walk around to the left. You will see a security desk. They will help you reach the apartment. I will park the car and bring your and Mr. Rawlings’s bags up as soon as I can. The staff of the apartment will be available to assist you once you reach the eighty-ninth floor. Do you have any questions, miss?”

“No, thank you, Eric. I will be fine.” Then she waited while he stopped the car and came around to open her door. Only having five hours sleep, Claire felt like a mouse placed in a maze. Would she be able to find the cheese?

A cool lake breeze hit her legs as she stepped from the car and proceeded into the Trump Tower. She thought about her appearance, the blouse, skirt, sophisticated heels, and hair pulled up and back. She didn’t resemble the college girl that used to roam these streets with her friends. Doors opened and the bellman nodded as she passed. She looked like she belonged in a limousine. The guard at the security desk didn’t question her as she spoke with confidence, “Hello, I am Claire Nichols. Please show me to Mr. Rawlings’s apartment.”

“Yes, Ms. Nichols, we have been expecting you. We hope your flight was enjoyable. Please follow me this way.” The guard tried his best to make small talk, but Claire’s mind lingered six years behind.

Once the elevator reached the eighty-ninth floor, Claire tipped the guard, thanked him, and entered the open door to the apartment. Immediately, a charming gentleman greeted her, “Hello, Ms. Claire, my name is Charles. I am very pleased to meet you.” He showed her to Mr. Rawlings’s room. Would she be interested in some breakfast, coffee, or anything else?

Tony’s room reminded her of his apartment in New York, more of the masculine natural colors. The shades were drawn and Claire asked Charles to open them. The room felt dark and dreary and she knew on the other side of the shades the sun shone brightly. The view as he opened the drapes took her breath away. The windows faced north toward the lake. Far above most of the city, she could stand close to the window and look down at the buildings. Just a little to the left she could see Navy Pier and out on the lake boats. The beautiful vista hypnotized her. She loved Chicago, and there it was eighty-nine stories below.

“Ms. Nichols, will you be staying or going out?”

Pulled from her trance, she knew her desire and reality differed. She and Tony hadn’t discussed her activities. “I believe I will be staying here for now, and I would like some coffee please.”

Charles returned with coffee and their luggage. If she were back in Iowa she could be on her way to her lake. Instead, she was sequestered in Tony’s apartment. She lay down on his big luxurious cold bed, covered herself with blankets, and fell asleep. When she awoke the clock said 12:30. Tony may not be back for at least five hours. If only she could contact him, find out his plans. Instead she investigated his apartment.

Not surprisingly it was magnificent and apparently took the entire eighty-ninth floor. Like his New York apartment there were floor-to-ceiling windows throughout the dwelling. She found an office that contained computers and telephones, no doubt Tony’s home office in Chicago. She opened the office door, looked around, and closed it. Under no circumstance was she permitted in his home office without him. There was no reason to believe the rules would be different here.

It occurred to Claire that perhaps Eric would be able to contact Tony and find out his expectations. Charles informed her that Eric was with Mr. Rawlings. He didn’t know when they planned to return.

Next Charles served lunch. It bore a striking resemblance to her everyday lunches in Iowa. Claire knew that there were restaurants with various delicious foods just an elevator ride away. Her appetite disappeared, and she settled onto the sofa in the living room with a book. Between the stunning view and the undeniable yearning to be in the city, she had difficulty concentrating. Finally, at four thirty, Charles informed her that Mr. Rawlings called. They had dinner reservations for six and tickets to the theater, the eight thirty showing of “Wicked.”

As she prepared for the evening, Claire opened her garment bag to a Nicole Miller taupe strapless dress with sequins. She’d never seen the dress before, but of course it would fit perfectly. The matching Gucci shoes and handbag completed the ensemble. It even had a small jacket with matching sequins, just right for an autumn evening. She piled her hair on top of her head with large spiral curls dangling down her neck.

As she completed the finishing touches to her makeup, Tony entered the bedroom, greeted Claire, and went to the adjoining bath for a quick shower. She smiled. His tone sounded chatty, like other people were near, and his eyes were milk chocolate. He emerged from the bath clean-shaven, hair wet, and a towel around his waist. The aroma of aftershave filled the bedroom.

Watching him, she momentarily thought about an ongoing conversation she’d been having lately with herself. It usually started with thoughts of him, pleasant thoughts. Then she would think about the way he made her feel or how much she liked to see him happy. It would then turn to questioning, something like, Are you completely crazy or only unstable. She didn’t know how she could be feeling this way about him. After all, he kidnapped her. He hurt her, but when he was good . . . Claire tried to remember, there was a song or something that said: when he is good, he is so good—and that summed it up.

She pondered the many puzzling sides of this enigma as she watched him in the mirror. First, looking at him as he removed the towel, her pulse quickened and she forgot about her primping. No one could deny his incredibly handsome physique. Hell, he was gorgeous. Despite the almost twenty-year age difference, she observed his defined muscles, broad shoulders, and firm abdomen. Momentarily, she fantasized about the feel of his skin against hers. Second, he was undoubtedly an extremely successful businessman who desired to keep his life private. Third, he utterly and completely believed in appearances. Fourth, he had an insatiable sex drive. In that arena Claire had come to terms with his varying approaches, anywhere from tenderness to domination. However, the side of Tony that bothered Claire the most was his unpredictability. His temperament could shift without warning, making an Indiana tornado seem docile.

Due to his position, his desire for privacy and appearances were understandable. It was the swiftness with which he could go from serene to furious that concerned her. Nevertheless, as Claire watched him dress, smelled his cologne, and heard him chat, her body tingled in anticipation. She looked forward to being on his arm, enjoying Chicago’s nightlife.

Their dinner reservations were for Sixteen, a fine restaurant on the sixteenth floor of the Trump Tower. Their table had an amazing view of the Wrigley Clock Tower. Tony ordered their wine, appetizers, and meals. The reputation for outstanding cuisine proved true, everything tasted delectable. They chatted throughout the meal, mostly about Chicago and its many possibilities. Claire didn’t complain about spending the day in the apartment, but she mentioned that after the spa she would like to do some shopping. After all, wasn’t it Tony that kept encouraging her to shop?

After dinner Tony suggested they walk the short distance from Trump Tower to Cadillac Palace Theater. Having wanted outside all day, Claire thought his idea was fantastic. Feeling the warm city breeze, walking arm in arm down South Street through the crowds of people, gave her a rush of anonymity. They talked and laughed as the evening faded into night. Claire’s deprived senses filled with sounds of traffic, the feel of a crowd, and visions of buildings transforming into monuments of architecture as darkness descended and lights illuminated.

Claire could have walked forever. Even the sensation of her shoes hitting the hard concrete delighted her, but their journey ended too soon. Upon entering the theater, she saw the show bill high above their heads. She’d long been a fan of the “Wizard of Oz” and immediately became excited about watching the performance of “Wicked.”