Tony had one more ploy. “John, haven’t I heard stories about Claire living with the two of you for a year after college?”
John said, “Yes.”
“Perhaps you could justify this as an overdue rent payment?” Tony smiled. Claire wanted to cry; instead, she beamed at John and Emily. They had to see how wonderful Tony could be.
John and Emily exchanged glances. Finally, it was Emily who accepted. “Thank you. You have our numbers. Please let us know the details.” The conversation was done. As they all stood to leave, Claire thought about the bill; apparently, it was taken care of without anyone realizing—one less confrontation.
Since Tony had contacted Eric, he had the car waiting outside. Claire hoped the polite attitude of the dinner would continue into the car. The women got in first, followed by John, who sat by Emily, and Tony, who sat by Claire. As soon as Eric pulled away from the curb John began speaking. His voice was strong and direct, as if he were addressing a jury or judge, “Anthony, I apologize for ambushing Claire in the hallway, and Claire, I apologize for making you uncomfortable”—Emily completely unaware, looked at John with horror in her eyes. Claire exhaled and sat back, thinking only, oh God, he is going to pursue this. She deferred to Tony—“But I’ve known Claire since she was a small girl. I’ve done my best to look out for Emily and Claire, especially since the death of their parents. I love her like a sister”—he smiled at Claire, then looked back to Tony with all seriousness—“I’m an attorney, and I believe Claire deserves rightful representation regarding the legal ramifications of your marriage.”
Claire remained silent. Tony spoke, “John, I definitely appreciate the fact that Claire has someone else who cares about her well-being. I must emphasize—she will be my wife and I will look out for her. I can assure you, we have an entire team of attorneys who will represent her in any necessary legal circumstance.”
John continued undeterred, “With all due respect, your legal team will look out for your best interests—as they should. Claire is obviously in love with you and trusts your decisions.”
“Are you implying you do not trust my decisions?”
“No, I’m not implying. I’m saying as Claire’s brother-in-law and attorney I should review the prenuptial agreement prior to her signature.”
Claire didn’t feel good about this discussion—maybe she could help. “Thank you, John, for your concern. I do trust Tony—” She immediately knew she shouldn’t have spoken.
Tony continued, “Your concern is admirable, and your persistence is commendable. As Claire’s attorney—not her brother-in-law—I’ll inform you that we do not plan on having a prenuptial agreement. I want Claire to have half of everything. I don’t plan on divorcing her, leaving her, or her leaving me. I believe she should be my partner in every way with everything. As of December 18 she will have half of everything I possess.”
John sat in silence and stared at Tony. He obviously hadn’t expected that information. Finally, he spoke, “Have you consulted your team of legal counsel?”
“Excuse me? Are you asking as Claire’s attorney?”
“No, I’m asking as your future brother-in-law. I know Claire. I know she’s a wonderful woman who’s in love, but as an attorney, a man of your wealth should not enter a business deal without a contract, and you should not enter a marriage without a prenuptial agreement.”
Tony smiled, amused. Claire knew—amusement did not necessarily imply a good thing. Maybe it was all a figment of her imagination—perhaps she would wake and this would all have been a nightmare. Emily sat in awe, dumbfounded by the verbal debate transpiring before her.
Tony decided the conversation was over. “John, thank you for your advice—thank you for your legal consultation. Your care and concern for Claire is duly noted and welcomed. I look forward to more lively debates with you in the future. May I make one suggestion?”
John said yes; however, his answer was inconsequential. The statement formed as a question was purely rhetorical. Tony would offer his suggestion either way.
“These conversations should and will take place in private.”
John agreed.
They sat in silence for a while. Finally, Emily broke the uneasy stillness. “Claire, it’s been so nice to see you. I’m going to miss you.” She reached out for Claire’s hand and squeezed. “I can’t wait until we’re together again for the wedding”—she turned to Tony—“If we’re still welcome?”
He smiled. Claire didn’t need to see, to know his eyes didn’t. “Of course, we look forward to your visit.”
Once the Eric reached their hotel, he opened the door and Tony got out. Emily and John both hugged Claire on their way out and Emily whispered, “Please call more.”
Claire feigned a smile and nodded. She wasn’t sure she could speak without emotion. Both John and Emily shook Tony’s hand as they went into the hotel.
After Tony got back in the car and Eric shut the door, Tony laid his head back on the seat. Claire knew she should remain quiet; however, she wanted to tell him how pleased she was with all he’d said—she did trust his decisions—and she didn’t care about the money. Nevertheless, one glance toward her fiancé reaffirmed her silence. Tony was obviously not happy.
As the car pulled away, Tony squeezed Claire’s hand and spoke, his tone was neither warm nor playful, “I believe it’s good you took a nap this afternoon.”
Eric drove them to the apartment.
Prolonged endurance tames the bold.
—Lord Byron
Chapter Twenty-Eight
‡
During the eight months Claire had lived on Tony’s estate, she never saw visitors—business or personal. The house remained busy with staff and employees—people who clean, cook, and fulfill other responsibilities filled the house. The grounds often bustled with gardeners and maintenance workers, but there were never guests. That was why, as they approached the house, winding up the drive, it seemed strange to see multiple cars parked on the brickyard in front of the main steps.
On the plane and again in the car, Claire received the rules speech. It seemed incredibly redundant. She’d heard it hundreds of times—literally. She knew the words by heart—follow my rules—do as you’re told—do not divulge personal information—actions have consequences—appearances are of vital importance—and public failure is not an option. Apparently, being Tony’s fiancée didn’t exempt her from the rules—it made them all that more critical.
Shelly, Tony’s publicist, released the prepared statement to the press. It simply read:
Anthony Rawlings, entrepreneur and world-renowned businessman happily announces his engagement to Claire Nichols, originally from Indiana. The two plan a December wedding. Details are not available at this time.
The press release made the engagement public—Claire now directly represented him. Changing her mind at this point would be unacceptable and a public failure. She didn’t plan on changing her mind; however, if she needed a reason for changing her mind—last night would have been it. Apparently, Tony’s newfound gentleness and affection evaporated during his discussion with John. Claire told herself that it was a momentary setback. The discussion upset Tony—John’s behavior had consequences. Claire willingly accepted her brother-in-law’s consequences—in his stead. She knew how to compartmentalize, and even believed she was getting good at it. From experience, she believed with the morning, the new caring Tony would return. She was mostly right.
When they entered their home, Catherine met them at the door. Her smile beamed from ear to ear, and she hugged them both. Claire truly loved her. She was the heart of their home. Tony obviously respected her opinion, and she his. Catherine’s approval pleased Claire. It was probably the one that mattered to her the most, other than Tony’s.
“Ms. Claire, I’m so happy. I’ve known for a long time that you’re exactly what Mr. Rawlings needed in his life.” She beamed at Claire as Tony listened.
“Umm, am I what anyone needs?” His tone
and face smiled. Catherine hugged him and told him that many people need him. Then she informed him he had guests in his office. Claire suddenly thought about her restrictions regarding his office. Why could others be in there without him, but she couldn’t? Walking toward his home office, she debated. The answer was painfully obvious. Everyone else in the world had access to telephones, computers, and the Internet—except her.
The double doors to Tony’s office stood ajar and his conference table was cluttered with books resembling photo albums and an open laptop computer. Two women and a man were arranging the materials and speaking to one another. Claire and Tony stood silently hand in hand in the doorway and observed.
Finally, one of the women looked up and acknowledged Tony. “Mr. Rawlings, hello. Let me introduce you to your wedding planner and consultant.”
Tony stepped toward the attractive, tall, professional-looking brunette. She looked about the same age as Claire. As she stepped forward, Tony turned toward Claire. “Patricia, let me finally introduce you to my fiancée, Claire Nichols. Claire, this is my number one assistant—secretary—and right-hand man/woman, Patricia.” His introduction revealed his admiration for her abilities.
They both extended their hands. Claire spoke first, “I’ve heard so many wonderful things about you. It’s very nice to finally meet you.”
Patricia’s greeting sounded less gregarious. “Hello, Ms. Nichols, I’ve heard about you.” Claire definitely detected animosity, but chose to wait and let the chips fall. Patricia continued with the introductions. “Brad Clark and Monica Thompson, may I introduce Mr. Anthony Rawlings and his fiancée, Claire Nichols. Mr. Rawlings, Brad is your wedding consultant, and Monica is your wedding planner. They come highly recommended and have some wonderful ideas to share.”
Claire and Tony shook their hands and told them how happy they were to meet them. Tony looked at his watch, 12:30 PM. They were due to arrive at 2:00 PM. In Tony’s book, they had made bonus points. Claire, on the other hand, had anticipated lunch. She was less pleased, but smiled and preceded with their meeting. Brad and Monica showed Tony and Claire to Tony’s conference table.
Brad and Monica began by explaining how honored they were to be chosen to assist with their wedding. Then they presented a very informative Power Point presentation with endless available options. They also displayed photos of their previous work—examples of decorations, cakes, receptions, etc. They asked questions, both of Tony and of Claire. What did they want their wedding to say? How many guests did they anticipate? Where on the estate would the wedding and reception be held? What would be the time of the ceremony? What colors did they want? What type of food? What type of music?
While the questions were tedious, Claire couldn’t help notice Patricia’s stares. She was excessively attentive to Tony. “Yes, Mr. Rawlings.” “I can get that for you, Mr. Rawlings.” “Let me take care of that, Mr. Rawlings.” For the first time since John’s consequences and the multiple rules discussions, Claire was happy to be the future Mrs. Anthony Rawlings. It even amused her that as an adult, the cattiness of another woman could readjust her attitude. Claire found herself holding Tony’s arm, looking at pictures of cakes, lights, tables, and flowers and saying all the right things. While he smiled affectionately and she radiated happiness, Patricia sat on the sidelines taking notes.
Tony then asked Claire to show Brad and Monica around the main level of their home so they could brainstorm. Brad and Monica promised they would get back to them on Monday with possibilities for the ceremony and reception. As Claire walked them from room to room, she saw the mansion from a new perspective—through their eyes. She saw it as an exquisite home with magnificent architecture. It hadn’t been that to her—it had been a prison, but things had changed. Last night and again today, Tony referred to it as their home. Claire smiled at the thought this is my home.
Tony and Claire promised to get a guest list together very soon. They, with the help of Brad and Monica, decided that being a Christmas wedding—red, green, and black would be the colors. The question still remained which of those colors would they chose for Emily’s dress. There would be Christmas lights, lots of lights, starting from the gates and going up the drive to the house. The house would be decorated very chic Christmas. The number of guests would determine the setup of the wedding and reception. The music during the wedding would be provided by a string quartet and a harpist. Brad and Monica promised to put together some demo CDs and Tony and Claire could choose the music.
When they suggested that the reception could be on the grounds—perhaps in the backyard—Claire thought it sounded cold, but Brad promised a tent—decorated and heated. He even had pictures of previous tent receptions. With the decorations, tables, and people, it didn’t appear like a tent—only a reception hall. The next question was the cake. They must have looked at fifty different pictures of cakes. Regarding flavors, Tony said he liked traditional white. Claire went out on a limb and said she liked chocolate—she hoped for some taste testing. Monica smiled and explained they had many other options such as carrot, red velvet, caramel, chocolate raspberry, and more. Claire felt once again overwhelmed by too many choices.
The next debate involved the menu for the reception. Since Claire had only chosen two of her own meals in the last eight months, she asked Tony if she could take a break and get something to eat. She didn’t feel well-possibly low blood sugar. He kissed her cheek and said she should rest; he’d take care of anything else. Patricia added, “I’ll be here to help.”
“I’m sure you will.” Claire replied as she kissed Tony and went to the kitchen to find Catherine and some lunch. They were about done for today. Brad and Monica would return Monday late afternoon when Tony returned home from work. At that time, more definitive plans would be made and others finalized. It was fun talking possibilities without considering the financial ramifications. Tony was right—the wedding would be planned and accomplished by December 18. Money could make anything happen.
Their kitchen was more industrial than cozy. Claire had never eaten in there before, but with people everywhere, it seemed like a safe, isolated location. Sitting at a small table near the windows, Claire looked out over the backyard and garages. She was there eating a sandwich when Tony found her.
“What do you think about the plans?” His voice sounded light and brought her back to reality. She’d been letting her mind wander. It hadn’t been any place in particular—just a happy place. She was thinking about lights, Christmas trees, her wedding dress, Tony in a tuxedo, and a warm feeling. She remembered the warmth of her visions while she was ill, and her current thoughts were giving her that same feeling. It was a nice change to have reality be her warm place.
Claire smiled as he approached. “I think they sound wonderful. I can’t believe they aren’t freaking out about the deadline.”
“What did I tell you?”
She smiled. “We don’t have enough time to discuss all the things you’ve told me.”
“You seem happy”—grinning, he stole the other half of her sandwich—“I meant about what money could do to help our wedding proceed as you want.” He took a bite of the sandwich.
“You said it would and it obviously does. I’m still slightly in shock.” Claire took a drink of water and caressed Tony’s arm. Looking into his brown eyes, she said, “It’s a good shock.” He took her water and started to kiss her neck. Claire asked, “Do you realize you have taken my sandwich and now my water?”
Tony cooed, “I think maybe you have taken something of mine.”
He was standing near her chair as she put her arms around his waist and looked up at his face. “I did? What did I take?”
As he bent down to kiss her, she stood to meet him halfway. He softly kissed her lips and her neck as his hands became tangled in her hair. “I believe it was my heart.”
Claire’s body forgot the demands of the previous night. Actually, it began to make demands of its own as he tugged her hair with his fingers, causing he
r face to look upward. For a brief moment she considered asking about Patricia; however, it was a fleeting thought. There was a more pressing issue at hand; still she enquired, “Is everyone still here?” as she pressed back.
“Brad and Monica left, they’ll return Monday to give us more information. We can make more definite decisions then.” She kissed his neck as he spoke. A low growl resonated from his throat, and his voice took on a gravely quality, “And Patricia is collecting names for our guest list. She’s still in my office. I told her I needed to check on you to make sure you were feeling all right.” His chocolate eyes hid behind closed lids.
Claire couldn’t resist. “I’m feeling very good, how do you think I’m feeling?” He murmured agreement as she spoke between kisses. “So explain” “why I can’t be in your office alone” “and she can?”
He pulled her closer. “Because, I said so.” His hands caressed the soft skin under her sweater.
“I hated that answer when it came from my parents, I don’t think I like it from you either.” She wasn’t arguing or complaining. On the contrary, she was agreeing with everything.
“Okay, how about because you don’t need to worry your pretty little head about anything in there? The telephones, Internet, computers…all you need to worry about is me.”
“Oh, and I do! I worry about you constantly.” She nuzzled his chin and listened to his heart pound rapidly in his wide chest. “So you don’t worry about Patricia’s pretty head?”
His voice sounded far away. “Does she have a pretty head? I haven’t noticed.” He couldn’t have said anything that would have pleased Claire more at that moment. She suggested going to his room or her room, he mentioned the attributes of the kitchen floor, when Catherine made a loud coughing sound.
“Excuse me, Mr. Rawlings, Ms. Claire. Mr. and Mrs. Simmons are here to see you both.” Claire looked at Tony with desperation. “What happened to never having visitors?” She smiled and tried to straighten her hair and sweater. Tony suddenly turned away from Catherine and looked out the back window, breathed deeply, and tried to adjust his appearance. Claire decided she should address Catherine, Tony was having difficulty speaking. “Thank you, Catherine. Can you please tell them, Mr. Rawlings and I’ll be there in a few minutes?”
Make Me: Twelve Tales of Dark Desire Page 28