Behind His Eyes: Truth

by Aleatha Romig

  The next step was Claire. He’d tried calling her between Tim and Tom’s house and again didn’t receive an answer. Looking at the corner of his screen and seeing that it was almost 3:00 PM, he dialed her number.

  He was just about to give up when Claire answered, “Tony, this is the third time you’ve called today. We aren’t making any public appearances for two weeks. Please give me some space.”

  A chuckle came from the depth of his throat. “Hello, Claire, so nice to hear your pleasant tone.”

  “I’ve got a lot going on. What do you want?”

  Tony contemplated her agitation. Part of him feared that allowing her any distance was asking for her to change her mind. He tried to keep his voice light. “Let me say, I would call less frequently if you would answer your phone.” She didn’t respond, so he continued, “I made plans for us, for this coming weekend.”

  “I agreed to go to Chicago, in two weeks.” Each phrase grew a bit louder and more clipped. “I’m not going anywhere with you next weekend.”

  “I believe I might be able to persuade you otherwise.”

  “Is that a threat? What are you going to do this time, arrange a walk-out of SiJo’s employees?”

  “No, Claire. No threats,” he reassured. “I believe you’ll want to attend this function.”

  “Why? What function would I possibly want to attend with you?”

  “Caleb and Julia’s wedding.”

  Claire gasped. “B-but all of your friends think I tried to kill you.”

  “The press release says differently.”

  “That doesn’t mean they’ve changed their opinion. They probably don’t want me there—”

  “That’s not true,” he interrupted. “I promise that I’ve spoken to all of our closest friends. I’ve explained things to them.”

  “I-I don’t know?”

  Tony had put too much effort into this. It was the perfect plan to get Claire to Iowa, not just to be there, but to be there willingly. He wouldn’t stop until she said yes. He explained about Brent and Courtney and how Courtney had talked to Sue. There may have been a few details that he forgot to mention: questions and tones of voices, but that wasn’t lying—it was omitting. Slowly, Claire began to come around. The irritation Tony heard when he first called morphed to what he hoped could be interpreted as excitement.

  By the time their discussion concluded, Claire agreed to fly commercially, but only if she had a return ticket to Palo Alto on Sunday. She also agreed to the get-together at Sue and Tim’s on Thursday, the rehearsal reception on Friday, and the wedding on Saturday. The subject of accommodations took a little more persuasion. It was when Catherine was mentioned, and Tony expressed how badly Catherine wanted Claire at the estate, that her undebatable stance began to sway.

  Tony smirked at Claire’s ultimatum. “My room will need a lock.”

  “That isn’t a problem.” It wasn’t a problem at all. Tony imagined the electronic lock that could so easily be reactivated on the door of her suite.

  Perhaps sensing his thoughts, she qualified, “It needs to be a lock that operates from the inside. Also, I will keep my phone at all times and have access to your Wi-Fi.”

  “You drive a hard bargain. I’ve told you before that you should go into business. You’re a master negotiator.” Hell, he’d have promised the moon and the stars if it meant she would once again be under his roof—their roof.

  Thursday couldn’t come soon enough.

  The first condition of progress is the removal of censorship.

  —George Bernard Shaw

  Everything happened in slow motion, from Eric’s driving, to the opening of the large iron gates. If Tony didn’t get into his house soon, he might combust. It didn’t help that his recent conversations with Mr. George and Danielle grated on his already frayed nerves. With Sophia in New Jersey, it was the perfect opportunity for Danielle to convince Derek Burke that he could find comfort elsewhere. Why the stupid girl hadn’t gone to China with Burke in the first place was beyond Tony. Did all of these people need him to micromanage their lives? He had much more pressing matters with his own life.

  Eric had barely put the car in park on the brickyard in front of Tony’s estate before Tony had his door open and was halfway up the steps. From his peripheral vision, he saw Eric’s head shake. That man knew Tony better than anyone else, probably even better than Catherine knew him. It wasn’t that Eric pried, like she did. No, Eric was observant and omnipresent. He didn’t comment or judge; he just was. Tony appreciated his objectivity, such as how he concisely described picking Claire up at the airport and taking her to the estate. In every situation, Eric was calm, ready, and loyal. Tony couldn’t ask for more.

  The grand foyer of his home shone with a welcoming glow that he hadn’t noticed in over a year. As Tony entered the grand doors, Catherine turned the corner. “Oh, my, Mr. Rawlings, you seem to be in a hurry.”

  “Come to my office.” He didn’t wait for her to respond before his quick step and long legs had him safely within the confines of his private domain.

  Following closely behind, Catherine entered and closed the door behind her. “Yes?” she asked, the word elongated and her brow lifted.

  “Where is she? What was she like when she arrived? Eric said that she was upset. Why?”

  Catherine chuckled as she settled on a nearby chair. “She’s in her old suite.”

  Tony’s eyes opened wide before he narrowed them questioningly. “You did tell her that she could stay in any of the rooms, didn’t you?”

  “I did. She was the one who asked about her old suite.”

  He exhaled, as some of the pent-up tension eased from his taut shoulders. That was a good sign, he hoped. He’d left her a note in her suite, as well as in two other rooms, but he was happy with her choice. Catherine went on. “She was upset when she arrived, not about anything in particular. I believe that returning was emotionally overwhelming.”

  “And you?” he prompted.

  “Did what I do.” Catherine’s gray eyes dulled. “You know me—the kind housekeeper.”

  Tony shook his head. “Stop it. She doesn’t think of you that way. I believe she came here as much for you as she did me.” Suddenly, that truth bothered Tony. He didn’t want to share.

  Catherine shrugged. “We spoke for a little while, she ate, and now she’s resting. It was a long trip.”

  Tony inhaled deeply. “Ate? We’re eating at the Bronsons.”

  “It was just a snack and she seemed… shaky.”

  “Shaky? Is that why she’s resting? I want to see her.”

  “I can get her, but I suggest that you let her rest. Traveling can be tiring. You don’t need to be to your dinner for almost two hours.” Catherine’s head cocked to the side. “You know, if you hadn’t turned off the cameras, we’d know for sure if she were sleeping.”

  “I know. I also know that she hated those cameras. This is better.” He turned on his computer and began to search the end of day stock-market analysis.

  “She asked about the delivery.” Catherine’s statement caused the business at hand to disappear.

  “Did you tell her?”

  “No,” she answered indignantly. “You said you didn’t want her to know.”

  “I said that if you tell her, you’re opening yourself up to her questions and suspicions. If you tell her, you might as well be willing to lay it all out. If you’re not willing to do that—don’t tell her.” He lowered his tone. “At least I’m giving you the option.”

  Catherine looked away.

  When she didn’t look back, Tony asked, “What else happened? Is she all right?”

  “Yes, of course. Why?”

  “I get the feeling you’re holding something back.”

  Her lips smiled. “I think you’re looking for any excuse to get you upstairs to do what you want to do.”

  “I want her to be comfortable. If that means resting, then she can rest.”

  Catherine stood. “Very well,
however, since you’re not eating here this evening, I’ll be leaving the estate in a short time. If she’s not awake, you’ll need to wake her.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Some things are none of your business.”

  He shrugged. “Where’s Cindy?”

  “An-thon-y,” she said, each syllable enunciated. “Go to her suite. You’ll do the right thing.”

  Catherine slipped from the office leaving Tony alone with his thoughts. All day long he’d anticipated this evening—coming home, not to an empty house, but to the place where Claire belonged. He reached into the drawer and found his new reminder below his old key ring; Tony pulled out the envelope. It wasn’t special in any way; to the casual onlooker, or even the curious snoop, it was only an envelope, but it was so much more. When Tony’s thoughts would begin to blur and red would slip inconspicuously into his vision, he’d remember this envelope.

  Turning it in his hands, Tony heard Nathaniel’s words from his dream. Although he’d only had the dream once, every second of it had replayed in his mind so many times that he’d sometimes forget that it hadn’t really happened. Peering into the depths of the envelope, for the millionth time, Tony vowed to fill it. He wouldn’t allow it to stay empty, not because Nathaniel had said he failed, but because he’d succeeded. Tony had fulfilled his obligation: the Nichols family had suffered. Now, he wanted to exceed Nathaniel’s wishes just as he’d done financially. His grandfather had told him that he would survive. Tony had done more than survive: for a short time, he’d had everything.

  A memory resurfaced, not of a nightmare, but a memory of one of Tony’s last visits to Camp Gabriels, the prison where Nathaniel died. There were times when his grandfather would repeat the same thought over and over; however, on occasion he’d share a nugget of truth. That happened on the day in Tony’s memory, yet Tony didn’t realize the treasure until almost twenty-five years later:

  Tony stood as Nathaniel ranted on and on, lost in a tirade about Tony’s father, Sherman Nichols, and Jonathon Burke. Then without warning, Nathaniel turned his dark gaze on his grandson, and in his deep, menacing voice asked, “You know what?”

  “No, sir,” Anton replied.

  “You can’t lose everything until you have everything to lose. I had everything, and now look at me!”

  It all made sense: after all of these years, Tony knew the truth. With Claire gone, his envelope was empty. In his dream, Nathaniel said that Tony received what he gave—and Tony finally conceded that his grandfather was right. Tony had given Claire a life with everything and then had taken it away—for the sake of the vendetta. In that process, he’d lost everything—everything he never realized he wanted. After she was gone, he still had the money, the estate, and the prestige, yet his life was as empty as the envelope in his hand. The vengeance had not only punished the people on their list, but it had punished him, taken away his everything.

  It wasn’t until Claire was out of prison that Tony began to see. He’d been blinded by her actions and hadn’t realized how much he’d lost. Perhaps it was true and he was a selfish bastard, but seeing her beginning a new life, one without him, one with another man, cleared away the fog of Nathaniel’s vendetta.

  Tony couldn’t make the past go away—if he could he would—however, he could spend forever showing Claire that he wanted her in his life, that without her, his world was empty. By allowing the vendetta to take away the only true happiness Tony had ever known, he’d failed his grandfather’s legacy. The Rawls name may be gone, but never had Nathaniel wished for an empty envelope—that was how Tony had failed.

  Tony wasn’t sure how he would do it, or if it could be done, but he knew the woman asleep upstairs was his life, happiness, and future. In order to fill his void and honor his grandfather, he needed to make her see that, too. He needed to do more than that; he needed to control the one thing that could control him. Tony needed to control the red.

  He had done it before, while Claire was in prison, and from high school until his acquisition of Claire. When Tony was at Blair Academy, before he turned off the red, he remembered life as highs and lows. After Nathaniel told him that fighting was unacceptable, he turned it off and everything was even. If a bump occurred, Tony eliminated it. If a company didn’t perform, he sold it. If the bottom line was red, Tony cut the overhead. Everything was black and white—no red.

  That all changed when he brought Claire into his life. Tony tried to believe she was nothing more than an acquisition, someone who could be eliminated, but that wasn’t true. She filled his world with color. Oh, there was red—too much red—but there was also blue, yellow, and most vividly, green. She made him see the sky, trees, and lakes. With her, he saw the snow on the mountains and surf at the shore. Life was no longer a series of numbers and ledgers.

  He didn’t recognize any of that when they were together. He’d been too consumed with controlling her. It wasn’t until after she was gone that he comprehended the truth.

  To win her back, Tony knew he had to narrow his color spectrum. He wanted the highs, and after a year and a half of black and white, Tony even welcomed the lows. It was the red he needed to eliminate. The way he saw it, he’d built a billion-dollar industry from nothing; removing red from his world couldn’t be that difficult. One factor that he needed to depend upon was Claire. Could he ever truly trust her again? After all, she’d been the one to leave him. Would she once again follow his rules? Perhaps together, they could remove the red.

  Placing the envelope back in the drawer, Tony checked the time—almost 6:00 PM. They needed to be at Tim’s in an hour and a half. Refocusing on his computer, Tony reviewed the end-of-day numbers. When he was done, he planned to shower, and if Claire weren’t awake, he’d go to her suite—her suite—and wake her. His lips turned upward, liking the sound of calling it her suite. It didn’t matter if the walls were painted a different color. It would always be her suite.

  Tony reached for the knob of Claire’s door. As he grasped it, he remembered her requirements: she wanted a door with a lock from the inside. Straightening his shoulders, he tried unsuccessfully to hide his smile. As his knuckles rapped the hard wood and he waited for a response, Tony recalled the only other time he’d ever knocked upon her door was the night of their wedding. After a moment, he knocked again. When she didn’t answer, he slowly moved the lever, opened the door, and peered around the barrier. His breath caught in his lungs as he saw Claire; she was asleep in the king-sized bed. With all his might, Tony wanted to reconnect the electronic lock and keep Claire there forever.

  Memories of them in that bed swirled through his consciousness as he moved closer. With each step, he said her name, “Claire.” He didn’t want to give her the wrong impression, although that impression was paramount in his mind. She was a vision of peacefulness. “Claire—Claire, you need to wake. We’re supposed to be at Tim and Sue’s in an hour.” Approaching the bed, her serene expression transfixed him. Hoping not to startle her, he spoke louder, “Claire? Claire?” Partially out of necessity, but more out of desire, Tony touched her exposed shoulder. “Claire?”

  She began to stir. His fingers purposely grazed the light blue satin bra strap. The allure of moving the covers and discovering the remainder of her attire was almost irresistible. Tony wondered if she could possibly be wearing matching light blue panties.

  Suddenly, her eyes opened wide as she sat up and pulled the blankets around her body. “Tony! What are you doing in here? You promised!”

  He chuckled at her modesty. “I promised a lock, but the door wasn’t locked. I knocked multiple times. You must have been very tired.”

  The alarm that was evident only moments ago dissipated into her beautiful pools of emerald. Even her tone eased. “I think I was. I have that jittery, just-awakened feeling.” Her long brown hair fell in waves around her beautiful face as she sighed and laid her head back upon the pillow. “What time is it?”

  “Six-thirty, and we need to be at Tim and Sue’s in
an hour.” As if his feet were blocks of concrete, he stood statuesque, transfixed by her presence.

  “Well,” she quipped, “if you’re going to stand there, then go find me a robe so that I can get ready.”

  Slowly, willing his feet to move, Tony walked to her dressing room. Since she’d refused his credit card, he asked his personal shopper to supply a wardrobe for her to access in Iowa. Turning on the light, he saw a long pink robe. No doubt, that was what she had in mind; however, Tony knew there were other items of lingerie. If he found the right one, he might learn the answer to his burning blue-panties question.

  When he emerged, he held up a transparent, black-silk negligee robe. It was a robe, he mused. When his eyes met hers, her eyebrows rose, lips pursed tight, and head shook from side to side. With a feigned pout, he re-entered the dressing room and returned again with the long pink robe.

  “That’s better,” she bantered. “Now, if you don’t mind?”

  Tony gallantly turned away, though every muscle in his body wanted to do a full three-sixty. “Don’t you think this is a bit ridiculous?” he asked. “We were married.”

  “No, I don’t.” After a moment, she added, “You may turn around now.”

  When he did, she was the only thing he could see. Her hair was slightly tousled, her cheeks blushed, and her eyes sparkled with a glow that could mesmerize him for hours. It was all he could do to remember his mission. Blinking twice, he forced himself to remain on task. “I thought we could talk about tonight.”