Tony. His magnetism, his control, his dominance was erotic. Claire also wanted freedom and liberty. She wanted a non-monitored telephone, the ability to come and go, and freedom—and him.
Didn’t their child deserve to know his or her father? Could Tony ever be a man to swing his small child into his arms with a laugh? Claire told herself, she was consenting for their child, but currently, her needs wholly dominated her thoughts.
As Claire’s arms encircled his neck, her breasts tingled against his solid muscular chest. Everything she did or said was brought on by deep suppressed carnal desire. She’d spent too much time during the past three years thinking. Today, she wanted to respond and react. She wanted her screaming consciousness to take a much-needed break. Claire wanted Tony.
When he bent down with his nose touching hers and asked, “Are you sure?”
Claire didn’t hesitate. “Yes. I’m sure.”
Tony didn’t ask again. Instead, he bent slightly and scooped Claire into his arms. They didn’t stay in the regal office; Tony carried her away from the grand staircase, down the corridor to his room, and laid Claire on the large regal bed.
Today, she wore pink underwear, matching the color of her top. Once again, his skilled fingers played with the bow directly below her belly button. After removing the lace bra, he caressed her growing breasts. Their tenderness intensified his manipulation, rousing stimulation and bringing Claire unknown ecstasy. His prowess within the defined skill set was unequaled. Multiple times, Claire gripped Tony’s shoulders or the satin sheets desperately trying to remain earth bound as her body surged toward heaven.
When they were both satisfied, she laid within the crook of his arm, enjoying the feel of her head on his shoulder and his intoxicating scent. Claire thought about what she’d done. Unashamedly, she didn’t regret her decisions. His steady breathing was an aphrodisiac, electrifying her already taut body. Was this insatiable need too, a result of the pregnancy? The more he gave, the more she wanted.
The draperies of his large windows were open. The midday sunshine illuminated his suite. Seeing past the glass, the crystal blue sky reminded her of the pool. “Do you think we could have lunch at the pool and enjoy some of this day outside?”
He turned to her with a grin that matched his sultry stare. “I’d like to stay here forever, but I like the idea of getting you more sun.”
Her lips found his neck and began to roam, and between suckles, she said, “At this second, I wouldn’t argue, with staying here.” The low growl elicited by her actions was enough to split her body wide open. “But I’m hungry, and that sky looks beautiful.”
He rolled her onto her back as her long, brown hair fanned the pillow behind her glowing face. “Not as beautiful as you look this moment.”
Claire felt her cheeks blush. Her eyes went to the grand ceiling above as she felt his lips nuzzle her collar bone and move south. “Mr. Rawlings, I believe we were discussing lunch?”
His smile filled her as much as his actions. Claire didn’t want to enjoy it or him, but she did. When she sat to get out of his bed, her vision turned toward his grand fireplace. There were so many good memories associated with that hearth, and the warmth radiating from it. What caught her attention causing the air to leave her lungs was above the fireplace.
“T-Tony…” She stammered. “H-how long have you had that there?”
His expression changed. Had he forgotten her wedding portrait was hanging above his fireplace? “Ever since you left.”
Chapter Forty-Eight
Perhaps it is impossible to wear an identity without becoming what you pretend to be.
—Orson Scott Card
Pictures of Tony and Claire flooded the internet. Someone at Brent and Courtney’s house made good use of their cell phone. There were even pictures of Claire with Sue in Iowa City. Claire wondered, isn’t there any real news happening in the world right now?
As she viewed each picture, Claire questioned her expressions. How long could she continue to argue her facade? Was she truly that accomplished at lying, or had Tony’s bold move and forced togetherness induced his desired outcome? Could Claire possibly be enjoying herself with him?
As she completed the final touches of her wedding attire, Claire thought about their afternoon. From his office, to his suite, and the pool deck with the warm sultry water, his expressions and touches that kept her body on high alert. Even while napping under the shade of a large umbrella, Claire remembered the feel of his large, strong hands caressing her skin with sunscreen. It wasn’t the first time her body rebelled against her better judgment. Claire reasoned, tomorrow I’ll fight. Today, I want to enjoy.
Radiant was the word in Tony’s mind as he watched Claire descend the grand staircase. With the blush of afternoon sun on her cheeks, her hair and make-up done to perfection, and the light green Herve Leger dress she’d found in the closet, Claire looked radiant.
As the Gucci, strappy five inch heeled sandals clicked across the marble floor, the adoration she saw in his eyes made her cheeks redden.
“I think it’s true what they say,” Tony whispered.
She raised an eyebrow. “What do they say?”
“You’re glowing—absolutely radiant!”
“Thank you, Mr. Rawlings.” She took in his toned, muscular body, covered exquisitely with his customary Armani silk suit. “You’re rather handsome yourself.”
They made their way to Tony’s waiting Mercedes and drove to Davenport. On the way, Claire asked about Eric. Other than picking her up from the airport, she hadn’t seen him her entire stay.
“Well, if you recall, I offered his services this morning for your trip into town.”
Claire blushed at the memory of her return. “Perhaps I should have taken you up on that offer?”
His hand caressed her knee. “I believe I’m very happy with your choices; bold and cheeky is proving to be another pleasurable lesson.”
“Why, Anthony.” Her faux southern belle accent purposefully elongated the yyy. “Who would have guessed that you could be open to new things?”
Thankfully, she was sitting and seat-belted into the soft leather seat, because Tony’s expression made her knees weak, and the sound of his deep, sensual voice caused her insides to melt. “I’m always open to new things. Especially so, if they involve you.”
Once again, she felt the blood rush to her cheeks as they rose into a genuine smile, causing her emerald eyes to glisten. Claire turned and watched the passing scenes beyond the passenger side window. Was she flirting? Was he?
Entering the cathedral, Claire and Tony blended into the groom’s guests. Claire couldn’t believe she was actually attending Caleb Simmons’ wedding. It had been a dream of hers since learning the date in a letter from Courtney while in prison. Glancing down at her hand resting comfortably in Tony’s, she thought about how long ago prison seemed. Never in a million years could she have predicted her current location, watching Courtney and Brent escorted down the aisle. Courtney looked beautiful in a mother-of-the-groom sunburst gown. Claire had heard all about it when Courtney first purchased it. Again, neither woman ever foresaw Claire seeing it in person.
As the ceremony progressed, Caleb appeared handsome and confident, and Julia’s smile lit the entire cathedral. Her gown’s train flowed behind her as her father escorted her to the front of the church. Claire couldn’t help think about her own wedding. As the memories came, so did the tears. She dabbed her eyes while Tony gently squeezed her hand. Without thinking, she leaned against his strong shoulder and accepted his unspoken support.
They sat with Tony’s friends during the reception. Claire was thankful Tony insisted on getting together prior to the wedding festivities. It made the reception much more comfortable. After the meal and cake, the music began. While the new Mr. and Mrs. Simmons danced, Tony and Claire watched from their seats. Again, he held her hand. She wondered if he was thinking about their first dance as husband and wife. She remembered feeling like a princes
s in his arms. After the couple danced with Julia’s parents, Claire watched Caleb dance with Courtney and Julia with Brent. Claire couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. Next, the dance floor opened to the guests. When the music slowed, Claire accepted Tony’s invitation and joined him under the soft lights. Perhaps it was their afternoon activities, but Claire’s body molded unconsciously to his. He directed their every step, gracefully guiding her across the floor.
“I know I fought you about all of this,” she whispered. “But I’m so happy to be here right now.”
His embrace of her slender waist tightened. “I couldn’t be happier myself.” He leaned away to see her face. “I hope you realize that this isn’t a charade.”
Claire pressed her lips together in a straight line. With all of her might, she wanted to argue, but she couldn’t lie. Shaking her head from side to side, she admitted, “Right now, I know that.”
Tony pulled her close as the rest of the guests disappeared. Claire closed her eyes, felt the warmth of his embrace, and allowed her body to go wherever he led.
It wasn’t difficult to access her laptop. A few different tries, and her password was easily discovered. The information within was more than he could ever have imagined. Just recently, he’d formed his own ideas about Anthony Rawlings being Anton Rawls, but now, he had it in black and white. She had so much information about the Rawls family. Years ago, he’d tried to do similar research, but everything came up a dead end. Why wouldn’t it? By 1990, the Rawls family ceased to exist.
According to Ms. Nichols’ fine research, Sharron died first of natural causes. There was very little information about her, especially during the last three years of her life. She didn’t even appear in any family photos. Nathaniel passed away in May of 1989, while incarcerated in a minimum security prison in New York. Next, yes, he liked this part: Samuel and Amanda died in a murder/suicide in Santa Monica, California. Why did Ms. Nichols have a question mark next to the murder/suicide? Obviously, she questioned the accuracy of the assessment.
He often wondered how Anton got the police investigators to go along with that conclusion. Perhaps he made the same bargain with them that he had with him. Ms. Nichols even had copies of police, ballistic, and autopsy reports. The scanned copy of the 911 call caught his attention. Apparently, Anton hadn’t been as thorough as he thought. This must have been how she and Harrison Baldwin found him. His name appeared on the report.
Smirking, Patrick Chester thought it funny; he’d actually thought Ms. Nichols was Anton’s daughter. Seeing her recently all over the internet, she wasn’t Anton’s—aka Anthony Rawlings—daughter. She was his ex-wife. According to the gossip people, they were working on reconciling. Patrick wondered if Mr. Anthony Rawlings had any idea of the wealth of information his ex-wife had accumulated against him.
Patrick Chester considered the possibility of blackmailing Claire Nichols too, but she wasn’t exactly living in the lap of luxury. Oh, her condominium was nice, in a very high priced part of Palo Alto. She even kept affluent company. Amber McCoy, CEO of SiJo Gaming, was valued at quite a bit. Her brother, Harrison Baldwin, wasn’t hurting for cash either. Nevertheless, in comparison to Anthony Rawlings, they were paupers.
Why had Patrick accepted such measly annual supplements when Anthony Rawlings could so easily afford more? Of course, it was because up until Ms. Nichols made an appearance at his home, he never suspected Anton Rawls of being the great Anthony Rawlings. The way Patrick saw it; he was due twenty plus years of back payments.
The missing information on Ms. Nichols’ laptop was about Samuel Rawls’ sister. Patrick didn’t even know her name; he never did. He just remembered Amanda Rawls referring to the woman as Samuel’s sister. Funny, as he scanned Ms. Nichols’ research, it didn’t even look like Samuel had a sister. That didn’t matter. For all the time, Anton/Anthony had paid to keep the information about that woman hidden; she must be someone important. Patrick wondered if Mr. Rawlings would pay a bonus for keeping this information away from Claire Nichols. Seriously, what man wants his wife or ex-wife to learn he’s been paying to keep a secret about another woman?
Another picture just hit the internet. Wasn’t today’s technology wonderful? The photo was taken only minutes ago, via someone’s cell phone. Amazing quality for a phone. The picture was of Anthony Rawlings and Claire Nichols dancing. They seemed very dressed up. The caption mentioned a wedding reception. Patrick Chester smiled. The sinister grin was truly too large for his face. He knew without a doubt, the real money was right there, in Mr. Rawlings’ arms. The mega-billionaire would gladly pay big—no, huge, for the safe return of that woman. And to think he’d had her right on his property. If he’d only known what a goldmine she was the day she and Mr. Baldwin visited. That didn’t matter. Patrick knew now.
Searching the laptop, he found her travel itinerary. Ms. Nichols’ flight was due back to San Francisco at 17:40:00, tomorrow. She had a first-class ticket. That figures, Patrick thought. Well, her accommodations won’t be as luxurious once I get a hold of her.
Tony read the following message from his phone:
To: Anthony Rawlings
From: Phillip Roach
Subject: Ms. Nichols
Date: June 8, 2013
I’ve confirmed with security at Ms. Nichols’ condominium; her unit was indeed breached. It wasn’t until the perpetrator was leaving her unit that security devices indicated a violation. Until Ms. Nichols can confirm that the only item taken was her laptop, it is safe to assume, since her room was the only one manhandled, she was indeed the target.
According to the records of my indicators, the front door to her condo was opened Friday, June 7, at 20:15 the violation was noted when the door once again opened at 20:27. Security cameras do not show a clear picture of the person in question. It appears to be a man who’s bald or balding. I will increase my surveillance and report any suspicious activity.
Please confirm the time and place of Ms. Nichol’s arrival. I know her reservations have been changed. I will look for the new times and places.
Thank you.
As the guests began to thin, Tony suggested they head back to the estate. Claire hated leaving Courtney, Brent, and her other friends. She didn’t know when she would see them again. Of course, since she and Tony were in the midst of reconciliation, she couldn’t voice her concerns. Instead, she smiled politely and warmly offered her farewells.
Once they were alone in the seclusion of Tony’s car, Claire settled against the soft seat and thought fondly about her day. Her mind went from the breakfast on the patio, to driving Tony’s car, coffee with Sean and Sue, her return to the estate, and their mutual physical admiration, poolside, the wedding, and finally, the reception. Each scene filled her with hope, with promise of what could be.
These thoughts kept her from talking and overpowered her consciousness. She was mindlessly lost when Tony asked, “Have you spoken to anyone from Palo Alto lately?”
Her insides clenched with apprehension. She didn’t like discussing Harry and Amber with Tony. “I haven’t even looked at my phone since we left for the wedding. Why? Has something else happened?”
“Not to my knowledge; however, my source tells me the intruder to your unit was not interrupted. His only intention was to access your room and take your laptop.”
Her world of happiness and hope evaporated. “Why would anyone want my laptop?”
“What was on it?”
Claire considered the contents of her hard drive. “I don’t know… my bank accounts, my travel itinerary, information about your past, and a rough draft from Meredith about her boo—articles.”
Tony’s knuckles blanched as he gripped the stirring wheel. “I thought this stupid Meredith Banks thing was over?”
“It is. With the money you gave me, to give her, she’ll keep it quiet, unless, as you and I agreed, something happens to me or someone I care about.”
After taking a deep breath, Tony asked, “What do you have regarding my
past?”
Claire sat straighter. “Seriously, I’ve spent so much time on this; it’s hard to condense it into an elevator pitch.”
With the eerie green of the dashboard, his black eyes transcended the darkness. “Give it a try. I’m sure you can do it.”
Claire inhaled. “Fine. I confirmed Nathaniel and Sharron Rawls had a son named Samuel. He married a woman named Amanda; they had a son name Anton, born February 12, 1965: the same day as you. That, plus a picture in Newsweek showing your grandfather’s home confirmed to me that you are indeed Anton.”
“Well, you know that’s true. Why are you continuing this research?”
“I really don’t want to discuss this… please?”
“Despite your suspicions, I had nothing to do with the break in. I need to know what the perpetrator now knows.”
“My computer is password protected. No one besides me can access it.”
Tony’s ambivalent expression spoke volumes regarding her secure laptop.
Eventually, she said, “Obviously you disagree. If someone is able to access my information, there are documents and reports from your parents’ death that they’d get a hold of.”
For a moment, Claire feared their future. Tony seemed unable to peer forward although the Mercedes cruised that direction at unknown speeds. His eyes bore into her soul. “What possible business of yours is my parents’ death?”
Claire straightened defiantly. “I suppose that before it was morbid curiosity. I wanted to know if you were truly capable of hurting your own parents. Now, however…” She hesitated and sat straighter, defiantly. “…Now it is very much my business. I need to know about my child’s family history.”
The Consequences Series Box Set Page 104