The Consequences Series Box Set

by Aleatha Romig

  Allowing his mind to change directions, perhaps Claire had earned the right to spend some time away from the estate. He would reconsider that possibility.

  Rubbing his temples, Tony contemplated John Vandersol’s future as he remembered the man’s past. Their first open disagreement occurred the night following Thanksgiving, regarding the prenuptial agreement. Tony was both amused and shocked by John’s impudence. The man actually thought he could persuade Claire to defy Tony’s authority. Smiling to himself, Tony knew he’d trained Claire too well. Public defiance from his wife wasn’t a concern. Nonetheless, John’s audacity agitated Tony beyond words.

  Then there was the wedding rehearsal, where John didn’t give Claire away. It was at that moment, as Tony stared into Claire’s anxious eyes, Tony determined John Vandersol will pay. This insolent man not only upset him, but his words caused Tony’s future wife distress. Her connection with John was his only saving grace. By causing her discomfort, at her own wedding rehearsal, John secured his own demise.

  Tony’s first plan was brilliant: offer John a job. It appeared as though Tony was taking the high road, recognizing John’s superior legal abilities, offering him an exorbitant amount of money and pleasing Claire. It was win-win. Rawlings Industries could always use another competent attorney, but he’d be under Tony’s thumb.

  Nonetheless, in the ultimate act of defiance, John Vandersol refused Tony’s offer. It was an act, which has infuriated Tony ever since he learned of it. That was two weeks ago, although he hadn’t told Claire until a few hours ago.

  Claire was smart, and Tony was certain she understood the unspoken implications: her ability to see her sister now, or in the future, was in serious jeopardy. Her ability to interpret boded well. The thought of his wife’s family caused Tony’s blood to boil—discussing them infuriated him. It was truly better for Claire, if he didn’t experience those feelings while in her presence.

  Tony poured himself a drink; perhaps it would help him sleep. Pacing the confines of his regal office, he contemplated his wife further. He thought about Catherine’s words. She claimed Claire’s strength in the face of Tony’s adversity was proof of Claire’s true competence. Truly, Catherine’s encouragement regarding their relationship helped propel it beyond the original plan. Catherine claimed she saw Nathaniel’s positive qualities in Tony when he was with Claire. Comparing him to Nathaniel was no small compliment. Catherine’s approval of Claire continued to mean a great deal to Tony.

  That was why Tony wanted Claire at the estate, safe, with Catherine to watch over her. With Rawlings Industries, Sophia, and John Vandersol, Tony didn’t need to be concerned about Claire. Her role as Mrs. Rawlings had just begun, and admittedly, in most situations she’d done well; however, there were a few occasions she’d forgotten the significance of her new title. He didn’t want to spend his days worrying how her actions reflected upon him.

  Claire said she wasn’t a spouse or a partner. That wasn’t true. He wanted her as both; however, Anthony Rawlings never shared control. His percentage always held more weight; therefore, it didn’t matter if she were bored. If he wanted her at the estate, that was where she would be.

  Chapter Fifty-One

  All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we can enter another.

  —Anatole France

  “Ms. Nichols, we’re almost to Palo Alto.” Grace’s voice penetrated Claire’s dream, resounding through the hum of engines. “Ms. Nichols, please return your seat to its upright position.”

  Claire opened her eyes, seeing the luxurious interior of Tony’s private plane and the nice copilot standing before her. Recognizing she’d slept the entire flight, Claire slowly obeyed. She nodded at Grace as she pushed the appropriate buttons and returned her lounge to its chair position. It was true; no commercial seat, even in first class, could provide the comfort and serenity Claire had just enjoyed for over four hours.

  As wakefulness came, so did hunger. Earlier in the afternoon, she enjoyed one of her favorite meals: grilled salmon, asparagus, salad, and red potatoes, and since Tony claimed not to have requested the delicious menu, they both suspected Catherine. Nevertheless, as Claire adjusted her watch to Pacific Time, she realized dinner was over five hours ago. Contemplating her future, she wondered if the twisting in her stomach was hunger or the thought of her impending discussion with Harry and her future travel plans next Friday morning.

  Claire wanted to talk with Harry, be honest, and explain her thoughts. The problem with her plan—Claire didn’t know her own thoughts. Harry deserved honesty, but she wasn’t completely sure what that entailed. She truly never meant to lead him on. She liked him. Perhaps no one would believe her, but up until recently, she never expected to even consider allowing Tony back into her life. Even now she didn’t know if their charade was an act or if real feelings were emerging.

  From the moment Tony left her in jail in Iowa, she thought they were ancient history. If she didn’t, would she have spent hours upon hours sitting with Meredith Banks, recounting some of the most horrific times of her life? Would she have spent day after day researching Tony’s family history? No. No, she wouldn’t.

  And when he blackmailed her at the gala, she had no intentions to truly reconcile. It was all a sham, but Claire had to admit, there were moments… flashes of feelings. She tried to ignore them. Unfortunately, the press didn’t. Harry was right about some of the pictures; Claire wasn’t that good of an actress. The look in her eyes couldn’t be feigned. Nonetheless, that didn’t mean she wanted reconciliation. Well, not until… the little blue plus and pulsating black dot appeared.

  If Claire allowed herself to somehow look past Tony’s faults and peer into the man who claimed never-ending love, she could see his good. She could see what Catherine wanted her to see: Tony was trying.

  As the plane descended, Claire struggled with her wedding portrait. Tony walked away from her, left her to sit day and night in a lonely prison cell, while every night he stared at her portrait above his fireplace. It didn’t make sense, and when she noticed it, he seemed surprised, obviously accustomed to its presence.

  Claire attempted to understand what he and Catherine tried to explain. Tony said he did what he did to save her—from him. Catherine explained that Tony made two promises; he tried to keep one in a way as to also keep the other. Was that the loophole he mentioned? In San Francisco, after the gala, Tony reminded Claire of his promise to love her forever, the promise he’d made in front of family and friends. Claire needed to know the specifics of his other promise and confirm to whom it was made. Was it his grandfather, as she’d suspected, or the woman in the blue Honda?

  Claire closed her eyes and contemplated Brent’s recent information: Burke, the same name as the securities officer. Could Tony possibly be doing the same thing to someone else, like he did to her? Claire knew one thing for sure: no one else was in her suite.

  Didn’t she owe it to herself and to their child to give this reconciliation a try? How could she possibly explain all of that to Harry? He knew the truth about Tony’s past behaviors. The night of the gala, Harry was upset and said hurtful things. Nevertheless, Claire doubted he could ever treat someone the way he treated her in the beginning. How could she make anyone understand she would willingly choose Tony over Harry?

  As the plane came to a stop on the tarmac, Claire stood. Her stomach knotted in anticipation of their conversation. Suddenly, she remembered the second part of her week: John and Emily’s arrival tomorrow. If her impending conversation with Harry would be difficult, then talking to her family would be impossible. Feeling light-headed, Claire sat down against the plush seat and closed her eyes.

  “Ms. Nichols, are you well? You’re very pale.”

  Claire peered toward Grace’s concerned expression. “I think I just stood too fast.”

  “Yes, ma’am. We’ll have your luggage out to you in a few minutes.”


  “Thank you,” Claire said as the door began to open. Remaining seated, she inhaled the fresh air and returned her iPhone to normal. Almost immediately, her phone chimed with notifications; there were three text messages. The first one was from Tony, sent just as she left Iowa:

  “OH, BUT HOW I WOULD LOVE FOR YOU TO ELABORATE!” The color quickly returned to her cheeks.

  The second was received only a few minutes ago:

  “I’M HERE.” It was from Harry.

  The third came immediately after Harry’s:

  “YOU SHOULD BE LANDING, PLEASE LET ME KNOW YOU HAVE ARRIVED SAFELY” From Tony.

  With the fresh air filling the cabin, Claire quickly replied to the third text:

  “JUST LANDED. THANK YOU AGAIN FOR EVERYTHING. I SLEPT THE ENTIRE FLIGHT… VERY COMFORTABLE WITHOUT ALL THAT RECYCLED AIR!”

  Smiling, she hit SEND.

  The comfortable California breeze refreshed Claire as she stood at the door atop the steps. Looking around, she saw Harry standing casually near one of the hangars. Immediately, she recognized his blonde hair moving slightly in the breeze. Her eyes moved from there to his well-fitted black t-shirt tucked casually into the slim waist of his faded jeans. Claire remembered telling Courtney about Harry, describing him as the anti-Tony. That was so true, yet it wasn’t. Both were incredibly accomplished, strong men. Tonight’s conversation would be much easier if Claire could in some way blame Harry; however, she knew none of this was Harry’s fault.

  She smiled his direction, and he nodded, stepping toward her as she descended the stairs.

  Sitting behind his large mahogany desk, Tony tried, in vain, to read the documents on his computer. The words entered his mind and disappeared before he could digest their meaning. He watched the clock in the corner of his monitor. Finally, the iPhone to his right sounded and vibrated upon the smooth glossy surface. Hastily, he swiped the screen—1 Text Message:

  “JUST LANDED. THANK YOU AGAIN FOR EVERYTHING. I SLEPT THE ENTIRE FLIGHT… VERY COMFORTABLE WITHOUT ALL THAT RECYCLED AIR!”

  He smiled at her cheekiness. Maybe the recycled air was a stretch, but he would undoubtedly prefer her in Iowa to California. Nevertheless, they made progress this weekend. They both knew it. His phone sounded and vibrated again—1 Text Message:

  “MS. NICHOLS PLANE JUST LANDED. MR. BALDWIN WAITING AND LUGGAGE BEING PUT INTO HIS CAR. I WILL FOLLOW.”

  The muscles in Tony’s neck tightened. Does picking her up at the airport constitute a date? Tony tried to tell himself it didn’t. Besides, would he rather have her in a taxi with some stranger? They’d spent four days together, made love on three different occasions, and have a baby on the way. While reasoning words went through his thoughts, the clenched jaws and tightened shoulders revealed the jealousy coursing through his veins.

  Tony replied to Phillip Roach:

  “KEEP HER IN SIGHT. LET ME KNOW IF THERE ARE ANY STOPS ON THE WAY TO THE CONDO. WHERE IS THAT PICTURE?”

  He hit SEND. Text message number two, to Claire:

  “OUR AGREEMENT FORBIDS PUBLIC EXPOSURE WITH ANYONE ELSE! I THOUGHT I’D MADE THAT CLEAR! WE HAVE AN UNDERSTANDING!”

  Exclamation marks were so often overused in text messages. Tony hesitated. He repeatedly hit the backspace and typed once again:

  “I’M GLAD THE AIR WAS TO YOUR LIKING. REMEMBER OUR AGREEMENT. CALL WHEN YOU’RE SETTLED.”

  The restraint was difficult, but he knew he wasn’t going to win her back without effort. The damn press would have a field day if they saw her with Mr. Baldwin, but Tony reminded himself to do what he’d told her to do: trust. Exhaling, he tried. It was especially difficult, especially if you’d never done it before.

  The sound and vibration announced another arriving text message:

  “THE PICTURE WAS SENT TO YOUR EMAIL. LET ME KNOW IF YOU DON’T HAVE IT.”

  Shit, Tony had been trying to read the acquisition documents and forgot to check his email. He switched screens. There was the email from Phillip Roach with an attachment. Opening the attachment, Tony saw that the photo quality was poor—obviously enlarged too many times, creating a very grainy image. Tony pushed the plush carpet with his feet as his leather chair moved away from the screen, hoping for a clearer picture. He saw a man with little to no hair. Was he older and balding or younger with his head shaved? Looking closer, Tony guessed the man was older. Normally, Tony was excellent with names and faces. He saw a hint of familiarity, but Tony couldn’t remember why. Perhaps it had been a long time since he’d seen him, or maybe he’d been on television or in the news. Regardless, the twinge of recognition made Tony uncomfortable. Why would someone he recognized steal Claire’s laptop?

  Two more text messages came through his iPhone. The first one, from Claire:

  “I DO. I WILL LATER.”

  Tony exhaled. It took every fiber of self-restraint to not get on another plane and go get her.

  Second message, from Phillip Roach:

  “DID YOU GET THE EMAIL? I CAN RESEND.”

  On a Sunday night, the light traffic around Palo Alto flowed well. Nevertheless, within Harry’s Mustang, their polite conversation was strained through the dense unspoken tension. Harry asked, “How was the wedding?”

  Claire told him about Caleb, Julia, Courtney, and Brent and how nice it was to talk openly. She rambled about one thing and another, avoiding their impending discussion.

  As the tension began to wane, Harry asked, “Would you like to get something to eat?”

  Claire thought about it. She was hungry. Yet Tony’s reminder about their agreement came to mind. Even more deterring was the thought of her and Harry’s future talk. “I think I’d like to order something to the condo,” she said as they neared the four story building. “It’ll be more private, and we need to talk.”

  Harry eyed her suspiciously. “Talk?”

  Claire exhaled. “Oh, come on. You have more questions than you’re politely asking. I think we need to be honest about what’s going on.”

  “I thought we were.”

  Claire exhaled. “Please, I need to tell you a few things.”

  “Maybe I don’t want to hear them.” Harry waved at the security guard as he pulled the Mustang into the underground parking garage. “Hey, there’s a van in your spot.” Harry noticed as they wove around to his assigned parking spot. “I don’t remember seeing that before. I could call…” He hesitated. “…or maybe you should call security and have it moved.”

  Claire didn’t care about the stupid van. She wouldn’t have her car back from the airport until tomorrow. “If it’s here in the morning, I will. It’s probably someone’s guest who doesn’t know about the assigned spaces.” She looked at his light blue eyes. “Please, can we order some delivery and talk?”

  “Yeah, fine.” He got out of the car and began removing her bags from his trunk. “My place or yours?”

  Claire pulled the smaller bag, while Harry pulled the larger. Stepping into the elevator, she replied, “How about yours?” It would be easier for her to leave if things got too uncomfortable. “I’ll take my bags in and freshen up, and then I’ll be over.”

  “Don’t forget, your room’s a mess.”

  She had forgotten. There were too many things competing for space in her head. “Oh yeah, I’ll do a quick inventory and let you know if I think anything else is missing.”

  Harry walked Claire to her door and let go of her large suitcase. “Are you sure you’re okay seeing your room by yourself?”

  Claire shrugged. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why don’t you call for some food?” She thought for a moment as she unlocked her door. “Just no sushi, all right?”

  Harry’s blue eyes squinted, allowing his amazingly long lashes to linger near his cheeks, and his head tilted to the side. “But you like sushi.” She wrinkled her nose, and he asked, “How about Chinese?”

  She nodded. “Chinese sounds great. Extra rice,” she added with a smile.

  Parked across the street from Claire’s condo on Forest
Avenue, in his nondescript grey Camry, Phil watched the lights turn on in the large windows on the fourth floor. He typed the text message while engaging his laptop:

  “MS NICHOLS ARRIVED TO CONDO. NO STOPS ON WAY.”

  He checked his laptop. The sensors would indicate if only her apartment opened or if both hers and Mr. Baldwin’s opened. The sensors were new, but with the recent break-in and an unlimited budget no piece of technology was beyond his scope.

  There must be something wrong with his sensors. Yes, Claire’s door just opened; then moments later Mr. Baldwin’s door opened; however, the data indicated Claire’s door had also opened twenty minutes ago. Phil’s heart raced as he looked up toward the windows. He pulled out his phone; Mr. Rawlings answered on the first ring. Common pleasantries disappeared. “I just read my sensors…” Phil’s voice came with deep breaths as he raced across the street. “…She’s in her unit and it was opened twenty minutes ago.”

  Ignoring Mr. Rawlings’ bellowing voice, Phil hastily entered Claire’s building and approached the security desk. “Has anyone been to unit 4A recently?” The security guard looked at Phil questionably. Phil repeated himself louder. “The unit that was broken into last week, has anyone been up there?” Phil could still hear Mr. Rawlings yelling through the phone.

  “Yes, there was a delivery. The man had the appropriate documents.”

  Phil revealed the picture he’d sent Mr. Rawlings. “Is this the man?”

  The security guard looked at the picture. “I don’t know. He had documents. Yeah, maybe. He was bald.”

  Raising his voice above the one screaming through his phone, Phil shouted, “Call 911 and get me up there right away!”

  Tony could hear everything and do nothing. How long would it take to get up four flights? He disconnected from Phillip Roach and scrolled his contacts, finding Harrison Baldwin. He hit CALL.