“I do.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “I didn’t doubt you.” Crying interrupted her speech. “I-I don’t doubt you.” More tears. “I don’t need to see.”
“That’s enough,” he growled. He was done talking and done listening.
Tony hit a button on the remote, lowered the lights in the room, and opened the video library menu. He leaned over to emphasize his point. “I’m not interested in hearing any more. Don’t push me further.” She didn’t speak; instead, she swallowed, nodded, and tilted her tear-dampened face toward the screen which now contained dates and locations.
He’d given this a lot of thought. They had all night to view. So why not start at the beginning? Tony chose 2010, March 20, S.E Suite, and programmed the time: 8:00 AM. Before he hit ENTER, he glanced in her direction. The look he saw told him that she knew the date—and already knew what she was about to see.
The screen came to life; it was Claire’s suite:
She was wearing a white robe and lay curled up on the floor near the hall door. There was a beep and the door opened. Claire jumped, hearing the sound and seeing Tony enter.
“Good morning, Claire.” Claire looked at him.
“Good morning, Anthony. I want you to know, I’ve decided to go home. I’ll be leaving here today.”
He couldn’t contain the chuckle that rose in the back of his throat. Obviously, things didn’t proceed as she’d planned.
On the screen, with his eyes dark, he smiled and spoke, “Do you not like your accommodations?” He didn’t wait for her to answer. “I don’t believe you’ll be leaving so soon. We have a legally binding agreement …” He took a bar napkin from his suit pocket. “… dated and signed by both of us.”
“Please, Tony. I don’t want to see this.” Claire covered her eyes with her hands.
He’d warned her to stop this ridiculous display. Roughly grasping her wrists, he pulled them away from her eyes. Through clenched teeth he growled, “I promised a viewing. I said you would watch—and you will watch.”
He tightly held her wrists to her lap as the video progressed in real time:
Claire was speaking, her voice high-pitched and filled with desperation. “It is not the end of this discussion. This is ludicrous. An agreement doesn’t give you the right to rape me! I’m leaving.”
Tony’s hand contacted Claire’s left cheek.
Tony released Claire’s wrists and her hand moved to her cheek. He watched to be sure she wasn’t trying to cover her eyes again, but she wasn’t. Looking back to the screen, he saw himself talking:
“Perhaps in time your memory will improve. It seems to be an issue. Let me remind you again, rule number one is that you do as you are told. If I say a discussion is over, it is over, and this written agreement, which states whatever is pleasing to me, means consensual, not rape. I’ve decided that it would be better if you didn’t leave your suite for a while. Don’t worry; we have plenty of time—$215,000 worth of time.” Tony looked down. Under his shoes was broken crystal. He continued speaking. “I’ll tell the staff that you may have your breakfast after you clean up this crystal.”
He left Claire’s room.
“Please stop the video!” Claire cried. “Please, I can’t watch anymore.”
He hit the button and the menu reappeared. “Oh, there’re so many videos.” His amusement was clear. “We can watch for hours. For example …” The screen read March 19, 2010. “… how do you suppose your suite got into that condition? I’m sure we could find out.”
“Please!” she pleaded. “Please … you’re leaving tomorrow. Wouldn’t you rather spend tonight making movies instead of watching?”
When Claire sprang from her chair, Tony was about to follow and reprimand; instead, she fell to the floor and kneeled at his feet. Desperation emanated from every fiber of her being, from her red and puffy eyes to her runny nose. Not since she first arrived had he seen her so broken. Tony smirked. She was a far cry from the confident woman in her suite, just a few nights ago.
He leaned down and teased, purposely pushing her further. “Maybe we should watch some more—find out where you need improvement.”
“I’ll do anything you say, anything you want me to do differently—just tell me. Just please don’t make me watch.”
He sat back and looked at her. Truly, the dramatics were growing old. “You will do whatever I say, even if it is to watch, but,” he hesitated to add emphasis, “I don’t want to spend my last night here, for over a week, with you in this condition.” As he stood, he callously brushed her from his lap, causing her to fall back onto the carpet. “I’ll be in your suite in a few minutes.”
Claire stood.
Tony continued, “Go up and get ready. Wash your face! You look like hell, and as far as attire … I’m thinking some new lingerie.”
When she started to leave the theater, Tony gripped her arm and stalled her steps. His grip tightened as she met his gaze. They’d been through this too many times. “Claire, what do you say?”
Suddenly, he saw the fire from behind the tears as her neck straightened. It took a moment, but finally she was able to articulate the pleasantries he sought. “Thank you, Tony.”
Damn her and damn that fire. He loosened his grip. “You may demonstrate your gratitude when I get upstairs.”
He watched as she stood motionless. As the silence grew, the fire smoldered to mere embers. It was then that he instructed her movement. “You have been dismissed. You may go to your suite now.”
For every promise, there is a price to pay.
—Jim Rohn
Tony wasn’t sure what to expect, or even what he wanted to find, as he walked down the S.E. corridor. He didn’t need to check the monitors; Catherine had informed him as soon as he arrived that Claire was waiting for him in her suite. Apparently, Claire had asked Catherine about his arrival, and Catherine had said that she didn’t know the particulars.
This was the longest they’d been separated since he brought her to his estate. There’d been occasions when he’d left for a day or two due to business obligations, but this separation had been ten days. Before he left, they’d had another glitch, and he didn’t leave her in the best condition. Oh, physically she was fine. Her acquired cooperation over the last five months had greatly reduced the need for physical assertiveness, beyond what came in the heat of the moment. No, when Tony left Claire, she was emotionally spent.
Breaking her spirit had been his goal, and in true Anthony Rawlings fashion, he succeeded. He remembered every minute, both in his theater and in her suite. Tony pushed Claire to a place she didn’t want to go. He’d exhibited his power and watched as the fire behind her green eyes dimmed. Then, he purposely dowsed it some more. He remembered the note he’d left on her table:
I believe we have a blockbuster on our hands. It’s
hard to say, until we thoroughly review the footage.
I plan to return a week from Wednesday. Eric is
available if you want to visit the Quad Cities. I trust
last night’s film reminded you of my rules. Don’t
disappoint me.
He left that with the intention of quenching any renegade sparks. At the time, it had been invigorating.
Then he left and—almost immediately—the elation faded.
Tony didn’t doubt his power—it was obvious. He had the ability to make Claire’s world heaven or hell; however, for a reason that Tony didn’t fully comprehend, that control didn’t satisfy him the way it once had. From the beginning of her acquisition, he’d thought of it like a business deal. He made those every day. Companies were bought and sold. They were expanded or the doors were closed. Employees benefited or suffered—it happened.
Tony told himself over and over that Claire’s role was nothing more than that of an employee—maybe less. Therefore, when his procurement was complete, when he’d succeeded and broken her spirit, he should’ve experienced the euphoria that accompanied a hard-fought gain. In the cas
e of this acquisition, taking Claire’s mind and spirit had been more difficult than taking her body. It would seem as though his jubilation should’ve lasted longer than the car ride to the plane. It didn’t.
Without warning, uneasiness settled in.
It wasn’t that Tony missed Claire while he was in Europe; nevertheless, she continually infiltrated his thoughts. After a day or two, he decided to check the feed from her suite, believing it would satisfy his curiosity and allow him to concentrate on the matters at hand. Since there was a seven-hour time difference between Switzerland and Iowa, the morning that he peered into his iPad, he found Claire peacefully asleep in her bed. Obviously, she wasn’t having the same insomnia issues that had plagued him.
The small peek helped. Although he wasn’t able to keep Claire out of his thoughts, now those thoughts were images of her sleeping. He’d be negotiating or discussing something with someone and the satin strap of her nightgown, which had been barely visible on his small screen, would come to mind. He’d close his eyes and see her relaxed expression. If he concentrated long enough, Tony was sure that he could smell her scent, a fragrant mixture of perfume, hairspray, and sex. He’d imagine what it was like sleeping with her and removing the satin and lace from her soft skin. Although he enjoyed the way the negligees hugged her curves, they were merely for show. When he was home, she rarely spent the night actually sleeping in them.
Then, as his day progressed, his newfound peace faded. Each time he checked the feed from her suite, even late into his evening, he found the room empty. With time-lapsed speed, he saw the cleaning staff, but Claire was absent. The last image he found of her was before 9:00 AM in Iowa.
As he was about to retire, around midnight in Geneva, Claire’s suite was still empty. It didn’t make sense. It was almost 5:00 PM in Iowa City, and she should be there—it was her job! Nevertheless, she wasn’t. Tony checked the library, the theater, the pool, and the gardens. He couldn’t locate her on any monitors.
Then he remembered his note. He’d told Claire that Eric was available to her while he was gone. Assuring himself that she was only out shopping and safely with Eric, Tony tried to go to sleep. Behind his closed eyes, images of her sleeping with her sun-lightened hair fanned over her pillow and that damn satin strap fought for contention with his new worries and concerns regarding her whereabouts. Finally, he gave into his curiosity and called Eric.
“Yes, Mr. Rawlings?”
“I was checking to see where you’ve taken Ms. Claire in my absence, and to learn if you’re nearly back to the estate.”
“Sir?”
Uncharacteristically, Tony’s voice reflected his concerns. “Ms. Claire. I told her that you’d be available if she wanted to leave the estate. You have accompanied her, haven’t you? You know not to let her out by herself.”
“Sir, I do know her limitations. However, she’s not requested to leave the estate. I haven’t taken her anywhere.”
“She wasn’t with you today, for most of the day, and currently?”
“No, sir,” Eric replied. “I can go to the main house and locate her for you, if you’d like?”
Tony decided to go another direction. Dismissing Eric, he disconnected the line. His chest felt tight as he fought to inhale. Ignoring his physical discomfort, he walked down the hall to the small liquor cabinet in the sitting room of his suite. The bottle clinked the crystal as his unsteady hand poured two fingers of bourbon into the tumbler. The smooth amber fluid numbed his throat and calmed his nerves as it disappeared in one swallow. He poured another glass and reached for his phone. With steadier fingers, he retrieved Catherine’s personal number and hit CALL.
Catherine informed him that Claire was spending her days hiking.
Hiking? What the hell? To where? To whom?
Catherine only said that Claire took a lunch and returned each day by 6:00 PM.
That night, he tossed and turned until he had visual confirmation of her return. It was nearly 2:00 AM in Geneva, and Tony wasn’t sure who deserved to be reprimanded for this breach, Claire or Catherine. The next evening, Tony cut a dinner engagement short, claiming an exorbitant amount of work with a deadline quickly approaching, to sit in his suite and review days of video. Upon further investigation, he found what he wanted. Starting on the Monday after he left, and each morning following, at approximately 9:00 AM, Claire would walk along the garden path and quietly step through the perimeter of trees. Something in his chest clutched each time he watched her disappear into the shaded darkness.
On the fifth day he called Catherine again. It was after 11:00 PM in Switzerland, and he may have had more than a few fingers of bourbon. “Is she back?”
“Isn’t your Internet working?”
“Don’t be a smart-ass. I’m concerned that you’re becoming lax in your judgment.”
“May I remind you that you were the one to approve the hikes in the first place? She reminded me of that.”
“Walks into the woods—not day-long excursions!”
Catherine’s response was more of a sound than a word.
Tony’s liquored tongue enunciated perfectly, and his words dripped with sarcasm. “I watched the exchange between the two of you on the day I left. Weren’t you just the sweetest?”
“I can be,” Catherine responded. “Would you have rather I did nothing and she went mad?”
This time Tony made the noise. “It wasn’t that bad,” he scoffed.
“It was. She was on the edge of a very dark place. I know the signs. I just helped her see that she could survive.”
“I didn’t think that was your goal.”
Catherine allowed the line to go silent. Finally she replied, “I’ve grown used to her.”
“Used to her? Like a pet?” He knew better than to bring up the motherly comment again.
Catherine murmured under her breath. Apparently, she didn’t see his obvious restraint. He changed his tone. “What if she decides to leave the property?”
“She’s returned every day, with minutes to spare.”
“Hmm.” He assessed. “At least she’s a well-trained pet, but why? Why is she doing this, and where is she going?”
“I can only assume to gain some sense of personal freedom. She knows that her suite is monitored, and she feels she can have some time to herself beyond the perimeter of the grounds.”
Tony thought about Catherine’s response. It made sense, but he didn’t like it. He didn’t want her to have that freedom. He wanted all of her. Perhaps it was the liquor, but his tone softened. “Do you think it’s helped her?”
“I do. She seems different, resigned to her fate, yet I don’t know—stronger.”
“And do you know where she goes? My property goes on for miles.”
“I don’t know. The laundry staff has informed me of bathing suits. Perhaps she’s sunbathing?”
“She can do that at the pool,” Tony answered, as images of Claire, wearing one of her many bathing suits, lying near the pool, paraded through his consciousness.
“Do you want me to tell her that she’s no longer allowed to go on her hikes?”
He contemplated. “You said she’s home every night by 6:00 PM. Why not 5:00 PM?”
“I told her 6:00 PM. You aren’t here. She dines alone.”
He nodded. “All right, no. Don’t stop her as long as she follows your rules. Catherine?”
“Yes?”
“On the day of my arrival, do not tell her when I’ll be in. Don’t even remind her of my day of arrival. I want to see if she’ll be ready. I want to know that she’ll be following my rules. She knows that if I’m to be home, she’s to be available. Let’s see what she’ll do with this new personal freedom and how far she’ll take it.”
“All right, Anton. If that’s what you want.”
“I do.”
He hit DISCONNECT.
As Tony’s hand touched the lever of Claire’s door, he took a deep breath. Perhaps, just perhaps, what Anthony Rawlings feared was that ten
days ago he had succeeded. There was something about Claire’s resilience, something about her strength in the face of his tyranny, that intrigued him. It was a game and he enjoyed the invigorating play.
Ten days ago, Claire seemed defeated even before he showed her the videos. If he had totally broken her spirit, would the game be done? Then what would he do? If she were emotionally as accommodating as she was physically, would the challenge be over?
Tony couldn’t remember another time in his life when he wanted so desperately to have failed. Opening the door, he panned the suite and found Claire seated on the sofa with a book. Exhaling, he stepped forward, knowing that he’d have to face the consequences of his actions. Their eyes met and his back straightened. Tony knew. He could see it in those damn green eyes—her fire was back!
“Good afternoon, Claire.”
Her movements were deliberate and slow. She placed her bookmark in her book, laid the book on the end table, and stood. “Good afternoon, Anthony. It’s nice to have you home. How was your trip?”
He stepped forward, wanting—no needing—to gauge her reaction. The scent of her perfume intensified with each step. When he was mere inches away, he stopped. This proximity required her to look up to maintain eye contact. Without direction, her chin rose defiantly, her lips held the perfect smile, and her eyes screamed with the intensity he sought. As much as he wanted to pull her into his arms, he heard himself bait her. It was his game and he couldn’t stop. “My trip was long. I’m pleased with your greeting. Does this mean your temper tantrum from before my trip has reached its conclusion?”
“Yes, I believe it has. I apologize for my behavior. It was childish and unnecessary.”
He had failed to break her—or so it seemed; nevertheless, Tony needed to push and learn if Claire was truly as fragile and on the edge as Catherine said, or if her spirit was renewed. He grinned. “As I recall, a great deal of your behavior was far from childish …” he paused—no reaction, “… but my memory could be failing me. It has been a long trip. I know how we could find out …” another pause—no reaction, “… or review?”
Behind His Eyes - Consequences Page 8