—Joseph Brodsky
Madeline and Francis met Claire and her guests on the lanai. Francis shook Phil’s hand as the two men exchanged familiar greetings. Still holding Tony’s hand, Claire introduced him, “Madeline and Francis, let me introduce Anthony Rawlings.”
Madeline’s smile lit the room. “Monsieur, we’re so happy to have you with us before your fille arrives.”
Claire smiled. She’d never mentioned Tony to Madeline; she wondered how she knew he was the father of her baby. Looking up at Tony’s expression, Claire realized what Madeline had just said and squeezed his hand. “No, I haven’t learned our baby’s sex; however, Madeline seems to believe we’re having a girl.”
Tony bowed his head. “Madeline, Francis, I too am happy to be here before the arrival of our bébé—fille or fils; either is fine with me.”
The smiles coming from Madeline and Francis warmed Claire’s heart and continued her inner peace. She hadn’t considered that they might not be receptive to him. After all, they weren’t married. They had been, but Madeline and Francis didn’t know that.
Claire said, “I know dinner’s ready and I’m sorry, but first, I’m going to show Tony to our room. Could you please show Phil to the room he didn’t take before?” Her eyes sparkled teasingly toward Phil.
Phil replied, “That won’t be necessary; I remember.”
Madeline announced, “I’ll have dinner ready for you. After you’re done, Francis and I will eat at our house.”
Although Claire and Tony had started to walk toward their room, Claire turned back. “Oh no, I don’t want you to do that. We’ll all eat together—all of us. I’m so happy to have everyone here, and I want everyone to get to know one other. Please, give us a little time. We’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”
No one argued with the lady of the house as Claire led Tony down the hallway. When they reached their suite, Claire entered, expecting to show him around. The sound of the closing door surprised her. When she glanced back toward Tony and saw his expression, the deep yearning, she thought was forever gone, ignited. The heat immobilized her; she couldn’t move toward him or away. Her only option was to stare into the dark, velvety depth of his gaze. For seconds or days, Claire was lost in his eyes. The black penetrating stare no longer filled her with fear; instead, it was a beckoning, a desire that only she could fill—truly an overwhelming and exhilarating responsibility. Within seconds, his strong arms surrounded her and their lips united.
Once again, her world was no longer her own. He didn’t take it. On the contrary, Claire relinquished it willingly. Not the control of the island or the money, those were truly insignificant. What belonged to Tony, probably before she ever knew him, was her heart and soul. As their bodies touched, her growing breasts pressed against his chest and his hands caressed her skin; Claire was totally and completely lost. Any thought of life outside their suite disappeared as the scent of his cologne and the taste of his kiss took on life giving power. Eventually, his deep baritone voice penetrated their world while each word, each syllable dripped with desire. “God, I’ve missed you. I thought I’d never hold you like this again.”
Claire couldn’t respond verbally. Not only because her mouth was preoccupied—which it was. No, she couldn’t respond because the overwhelming sense of relief that was washing over her had removed her ability. It drained her and set her hormone-filled emotions into a new and terrifying cyclone. Tears fell from her eyes as she broke away from his kiss and buried her face in his wide chest. When her shoulders began to shudder from the sobs she couldn’t contain, Tony led her to the sofa. His sultry expression turned questioning. “Do you want me to leave? Isn’t this what you wanted?”
Claire shook her head and wiped her eyes. “No! I don’t want you to leave. This is exactly what I want.” She sniffled. “I can’t believe you’re really here. When you hung up—”
Tony knelt before her, his sad eyes a stark contradiction to the passion she saw moments earlier. “I was wrong. Everything was overwhelming.” She heard the restraint in his voice as he tried to subdue his shock and anger. “I had everything planned: how I was going to get the money and look for you.” His volume rose with each phrase. He shook his head. “I’ve told you before that you’re the only person in this world, who can keep me on my toes. I never imagined you’d access the accounts before me. I was totally blindsided! When I saw the signature of Marie Rawls, my gut told me that something was wrong! I still wasn’t sure until I called the number…” He exhaled and waited. Finally, he took her petite hands, surrounded them with his own, and reined in his tone. “I wasn’t even sure it was you. I couldn’t fathom how you could possibly gain access, and then, when I heard your voice—”
The hint of anger faded into a sadness Claire couldn’t identify. She’d never heard so much pain in his voice. With all her heart, she wanted to make his world better; however, she couldn’t take away his sense of betrayal: initially from her and then from Catherine. He needed to say what he was thinking. While tears silently overflowed her eyes, Claire kept her gaze locked with his. Even with his visible pain, his dark eyes completed her world.
He continued, “It wasn’t that I didn’t want to believe you, but to believe you meant admitting that Catherine deceived…” His head bowed to Claire’s lap.
When he didn’t speak, Claire ran her fingers through his hair and waited.
Swallowing his emotions, Tony looked back up to her eyes. Dark windows of remorse matched the anguish she heard in his tone.
“I put you in harm’s way,” Tony said. “Since Roach explained everything, that’s all I’ve thought about. I took you away from California and put you in the worse place possible. Tell me—tell me you know I didn’t know. I never would’ve, never thought she was capable of hurting you or me or…” He touched Claire’s stomach and rubbed, causing Claire to smile. “…our child.”
The baby kicked Tony’s hand, and Tony’s eyes opened wide. “Did I just feel that?”
Claire nodded.
“That was amazing!” For a moment, their excitement and joy overpowered the shadow brought on by Catherine’s name.
Despite her moist eyes and tear-covered cheeks, Claire giggled, “I’ve been praying for you to feel our little one move and kick. I think we have a soccer player on our hands.”
Tony sat straighter and tipped his head. When their noses touched, he said, “Mighty fine!” Tenderly wiping her cheeks with the back of his hand, Tony brushed his lips over hers. “We’ve both made mistakes, too many to count, but this little life inside of you isn’t a mistake. He or she isn’t a Rawls or a Nichols. It’s a Rawlings! I’ve had many accomplishments in my life, and in comparison to this little life, they all pale. Beyond a doubt, this child is my—no, our—greatest achievement.
“I don’t deserve you or an innocent child in my life. Thank you for keeping both of you safe. Roach explained how scared you were. If only I’d been home—”
Claire interrupted, “No, Tony. Don’t you see? It was all planned to happen with you away. Neither one of us is to blame for what happened.”
The nodding of his head moved hers. His words were barely a whisper, “For this one—”
Claire’s fingers touched his lips. “Stop, please. I know we have a lot to talk about. We both have questions, and hopefully we both have answers, but right now and tonight, can we please just have us?”
Tony kissed the tips of her fingers, which only moments earlier stopped his words. “You’re right. Besides, Madeline and Francis are waiting.” Claire stood, yet Tony refused to relinquish her hand. Standing close, he looked down and said, “I need to know one thing.”
Tipping her eyes up, Claire saw need in the depth of his dark eyes and her heartbeat accelerated. “What? What do you need to know?”
“Has all of this changed our relationship? I mean—are we still engaged?”
Claire smirked. “We definitely have a lot to talk about; however, if this little one is to be a Rawlings and not a Nichols.” Her
eyes twinkled. “I believe we only have a few more months to move our status to married.” She paused. “If that’s what you still want?”
“So me being an ass and hanging up on you didn’t change your mind?”
“Well, you see, I’m used to you being an ass. It’s the part where you recognize it. That’s new, and that’s the reason my mind hasn’t changed.”
Tony pulled Claire closer and encircled her with his arms. “Well, how about I work on not being such an ass, and you work on restraining that smart mouth of yours?”
Claire pushed up to her tip-toes and kissed his neck. The familiar growl rang like music in her ears. “I was under the impression you liked my mouth.”
His lips seized hers. Without hesitation, she met him with equal ferocity. When their force eased, their eyes met, and his sparkled as he replied, “Oh, I do. I love your mouth, your eyes, your neck, and every other part of your amazing body; however, some of the things you do with that amazing mouth I like better than others.”
“Really?” she bantered, as she purposely suckled his neck.
Tony seized her shoulders. “Do you plan on going back out there for dinner? I’m asking because if you don’t stop, it isn’t happening.”
Claire smiled. It was true: they had a lot to discuss, and a lot to work out; nevertheless, she felt empowered. She knew at that moment dinner could be a memory. If she continued her persuasion, then they could be naked and in bed in seconds; however, she needed food. Somewhere in her memory, she heard his advice, I suggest you eat. You’ll need your strength. Grinning, she replied, “I do, and they’re probably waiting.” Pointing toward one of the other doors, Claire said, “The bathroom is over there. I’m going to freshen up. I’m afraid with my crying I look like hell.”
“You, my dear, could never look like hell. You’re radiant!”
“Oh, really?” Claire smiled knowingly at Tony. “Give me a minute.” She kissed his cheek. “After dinner, when we get back here, you can remind me what it was you liked my mouth to do.”
Again, he pulled her close for one last embrace. “It’s a date. I certainly hope Madeline doesn’t cook twelve course meals.”
Once Claire was ready, Tony disappeared into the bathroom, and Claire went into the closet. She found the box from the other day, the one with the cell phones and sat it on the floor. Kneeling, she looked into the depth of the container. At the bottom was her long gold chain with her engagement ring. Until a few days ago, she’d kept it close to her heart. After her conversation with Tony she’d decided that there was no longer a reason to wear it. Begrudgingly, she tucked it away in the container.
Now, things were different. Claire removed the ring from the chain and placed it on the fourth finger of her left hand. Feeling his presence, Claire sighed and looked up. Tony was standing in the doorway, his dark eyes watching. By the erratic beating of her heart, she knew he saw everything.
“I took it off the other day,” she confessed.
Taking her left hand in his, Tony helped her stand. Though his eyes hadn’t softened, his words were more of a plea, “I hope you never feel the need to take it off again.” Peering into the box, Tony added, “It seems as though it would’ve been difficult to hear that phone ring, tucked away in a box, in the closet.”
Claire smiled and pushed herself against his chest. “Since I don’t believe it ever would have, we’ve someone to thank. My guess is he’s waiting for us for dinner too.”
They left their suite hand in hand. While they’d been alone, the sun had fully set. In the middle of nowhere, the beautiful blue that filled the daytime view was now hidden behind shades of black. A star-filled sky sparkled above a dark sea, and the gentle rush of the waves filled the air as a soft breeze blew through the open doors of the dining room. Before they reached the others, Tony squeezed Claire’s hand. “This place is amazing. Now that I look around, it’s beyond words.”
Claire agreed. “Now, it’s truly paradise.”
Chapter Seventeen
The evil that is in the world almost always comes of ignorance, and good intentions may do as much harm as malevolence if they lack understanding.
—Albert Camus
Catherine sat at Tony’s grand desk. She didn’t consider it his any longer—it was hers, like so many other things. Besides, from all the reports she’d heard, he wouldn’t be sitting there anytime soon. Though the FBI wouldn’t confirm or deny, Catherine was under the impression Tony was either in custody or on the run. All she knew for sure was that he wasn’t in Iowa. After meeting with Tom and Brent, the provisions of Anthony Rawlings’ trust went into effect. Catherine Marie London was officially the executor of the Rawlings’ estate and anything related to it. The title came with a nice trust fund. That money, plus the large sum she’d accumulated over the years, left Catherine more than financially solvent.
Once in a while, she thought about the money she’d given to Claire. Catherine wasn’t sure exactly how much it was; however, whenever she started to regret giving it all away, her mind would go to the possibility of Tony on the run. If he were out there, she knew, without a doubt, he’d go for that money. Imagining him finding an empty box brought a smile to her face.
For almost twenty-five years, Anton had been in control, or so he thought. It was true; right after Samuel and Amanda’s accident, Marie had offered to work for Anton. After all, she was alone, and he was all she had left of Nathaniel. The arrangement wasn’t meant to last a lifetime. Nathaniel told Marie multiple times how he wanted her to live; never once did he say he wanted her to work as Anton’s housekeeper.
It wasn’t that Anton had ever been unkind. On the contrary, if anything, he’d been indifferent. Perhaps that was worse. He seemed to take Catherine for granted—she just was. It never appeared as though he worried if she would or wouldn’t be there, if she would or wouldn’t carry out his objectives. He never asked. Smirking to herself, she admitted that his complacency worked to her advantage on more than one occasion.
Maybe her name wasn’t Rawls, but what did a name matter? Now that she had the legal documents confirming her title as executor, Anton’s office was gone. It was hers: as was the house, the grounds, and the estate. Catherine Marie leaned back against the plush leather chair and scanned the room. The regal decor was very similar to Nathaniel’s office from a quarter century ago. She’d always liked that. Smiling, Catherine decided the view from her current side of the desk was definitely the more appealing perspective. She also decided the room could use a feminine touch.
Catherine opened the drawer on the lower right to inspect Anton’s private files. She fingered the tabs; in this paperless world, it surprised her he’d kept so many printed documents. Thankfully, the Iowa City Police hadn’t felt the need to confiscate everything as evidence.
They did take all of Claire’s documents. That didn’t matter to Catherine; she’d already gone through everything on Claire’s laptop and was honestly impressed with the amount of research Claire had accomplished during her short time in California. Catherine never imagined Claire would uncover Patrick Chester. The entire turn of events was far better than Catherine could ever have imagined or planned. The only possible better scenario would have included Chester actually killing Claire. If he had then Catherine would have been able to watch Anton’s anguish firsthand.
Reminiscing, Catherine admitted she did get the pleasure of witnessing some of it right after Claire’s disappearance; however, to see Anton’s face in Geneva when he realized Claire wasn’t taken, but, instead, she’d left him again, and disappeared with his money and his bastard child—oh, that would have been priceless! Well, not priceless. It cost Catherine whatever amount of money had been in those accounts.
It wasn’t that Catherine originally planned on extending Nathaniel’s decree to his grandson. Anton was safe as long as he stayed focused and on task. All the time and effort planting seeds, watering them, and watching them grow paid off on more than one occasion. Everything was going the righ
t way until—until his damn obsession with Claire Nichols.
Catherine knew something had changed after the Nichols’ funeral. At first, she feared Anton had discovered her undertakings, or the true extent of them. That wasn’t it. He’d been watching the Nichols family for a while; however, Catherine misinterpreted the depth of his fixation. How unrealistic of her to think Anton’s actual desire was to honor Nathaniel. Although Anton claimed that was his goal, his actions proved otherwise. Bringing Claire to the estate was even acceptable—at first. It was when he began to take her out into public that Catherine knew his motivations were changing.
That was all right. Catherine could adapt too. As long as Catherine was covertly in control, she was able to keep her goals in sight. Besides, Claire and Anton were both so easily read and played. Even though it appeared to be a high-stakes game of poker, it was more like Old Maid. The trick for success was in knowing the opponents. The fact that they didn’t know they were opponents also aided her effort.
Catherine knew Anton better than he knew himself. She knew his limits and his needs—not sexually, of course. No, Catherine understood Anton’s craving for control. It was his unspoken aspiration to be like Nathaniel. The grandfather he knew dominated everyone and everything. Some might say it was a disservice that Nathaniel showed so few people his gentler side. In hindsight, that omission proved very useful to Catherine. She could fuel Anton’s need and depend upon his impulsiveness. Truly, it was a comical contradiction. For a man who prided himself on control, with the right triggers, he could lose it all. Anton didn’t hold the monopoly on impulsivity. Catherine could also continually depend upon Claire’s impulsiveness.
To be good—very good at manipulation, a person must understand their opponents’ motivation. Anton possessed a lifelong yearning to please Nathaniel. Claire was much simpler. She craved interaction and affection. The smartest move Catherine ever made was sending only Carlos into that suite while Anton was away. Looking back on it, the move had been pure genius. In a way, Catherine hoped it paralleled Claire’s current situation. Oh well, perhaps Claire could learn the language of wherever she was?
The Consequences Series Box Set Page 134