Tony pulled the car to the front door. He didn’t open Claire’s door. Instead, he told her to go to her suite, he’d be up later. He had things to do—like cancel a spa appointment. His tone was curt and his eyes dark. She wanted to run. Instead, she got out of the car and walked boldly into the house, through the large doors, up the grand staircase, and down the southeast corridor to her suite. Once she closed her door, she felt her heart race and her internal monologue continue: this was such a nice day. I met Tony’s friends, and they were nice. I wanted to tell him about what I heard. I wanted to tell him what a great time I had.
Claire knew what Anthony was doing. Starting in the car—he was contemplating—overthinking—and overanalyzing the entire situation. She knew if he would just let her, she could explain. Oh God! She wanted to lie down, scream, and cry. But, she also knew he could watch her every move. She refused to give him the satisfaction, refused to let him know how worried she was about his decision. Truthfully, she was worried—actually, terrified. Every bone in her body feared the possible return of his other persona.
There are two things a person should never be angry at, what they can help, and what they cannot.
—Plato
Chapter Sixteen
‡
Claire sat at her table, writing. Tony couldn’t see what she was writing. The cameras didn’t have enough zooming capability. Her body language didn’t look nervous. It showed a proud and defiant pose. He watched as she wrote, sitting straight, her neck tall and proud. The only hint of uneasiness could be the way her feet fidgeted under her chair.
From his office screens, he could access different views of the room. From another view, she sat farther away, and he saw her bed in the background. Of course, there was the view that kept the bed centered, but the table wasn’t visible from that camera.
Trying to contemplate his options and the consequences of her actions, Tony closed his eyes and reviewed the day. When he entered her suite, he anticipated anxiety, but found calm. Then there was that smile when they got in the car. God! Her smile when it was real melted him. Her emerald eyes could glisten and shine. Of course, he didn’t see her real smile much. He did today, and seeing her with his friends, she was perfect.
He told himself the reason he had trouble keeping his eyes off her was strictly because he needed to monitor her behavior. It had nothing to do with how beautiful she looked. Now, as he watched the screens, he wondered what she was thinking. Was she thinking about him, about her future? It was all up to him. She knew that. He knew that. The power didn’t give him the satisfaction it once had.
Damn, why in the hell did Sue give her that phone number? What did they talk about when he was away? His head filled with unanswered questions and plausible scenarios. She wanted to leave him. Why wouldn’t she? Did she initiate a plan? Why wouldn’t she follow his rules?
His internal monologue momentarily caused him to lose focus of the screens. Now, as he scanned, she was gone. He scanned the other views until he noticed the open door to the balcony. He could only see the back of her head. He needed another camera installed.
Over an hour had passed since they came home. Making Claire wait for him was part of his plan, but watching her, it seemed she controlled her nerves better than he. Maybe he needed fresh air too. No—he needed to make a decision. It was his mantra. She knew the rules. It didn’t matter if you do something 99 percent right, perfection was required. The fact remained she must have broken his rules. He needed to make a decision. Behaviors have consequences, consequences can be unpleasant. Tony told himself he had warned her, she chose not to listen.
*
She inhaled and exhaled. The country air filled her lungs with cool, refreshing strength. Claire thought about the people she’d met and about talking and laughing. It was fantastic. Courtney’s reassurance and Tony’s unusually kind smiles relieved her initial anxiety. She knew it was a charade, but it was fun, getting out around people. Then the telephone number came. It boggled her mind that something so incredibly simple could cause such ridiculous repercussions.
She thought about Tony. He would enter her suite soon—of course without knocking—and he would have some verdict regarding her insubordination. The fact that she wasn’t insubordinate wouldn’t alter his decision. She wondered if he handled business issues this way too—without input. With her mind scrambling, she asked herself, Do I have any options?
Her wild emotions caused a rush of adrenaline concealing the cool night air from her consciousness. His impending decision terrified her—his smiles today gratified her—and his physique in jeans aroused her. How could her body defy her mind so severely? Claire believed her body was the true offender of insubordination!
Thinking about Bonnie made Claire laugh at the irony. She thought Claire was securing a sugar daddy. The reality couldn’t be farther from the truth; however, at that moment, instead of wanting to explain, she was honored to be associated with Anthony Rawlings. Irrational best described her thoughts. Maybe if she could get her body and mind to work together she could devise some kind of plan. The sound of the suite door closing brought her thoughts to the present.
Tony didn’t speak, but his eyes did, acknowledging Claire on the balcony and bidding her to enter. She did. Determined to continue the bogus act of strength, she walked within inches of him and stood her ground. He didn’t greet her, instead he lifted her chin. His eyes looked as cold as the feel of his icy hand. Claire knew without a doubt—this would not be good. “What did we discuss just before we arrived at the Simmons?”
Her eyes flashed fire but her words sounded respectful. “I told you I wouldn’t let you down and I didn’t.”
“Actions have consequences, I’ve told you that. Why is that difficult for you to understand?”
“Tony, it isn’t. If—” He stopped her, not with a gentle finger to the lips but with a slap to her left cheek. Claire stopped speaking, her eyes moist; nonetheless, she refused to look away or back down.
“Actions have consequences. I’ve been thinking quite a bit about an appropriate punishment.”
Claire decided she had nothing to lose—punishment was coming—she might as well push her luck. “Tony, if you would please let me speak. I know your decision is set, but allow me to talk.”
He nodded and told her to make it quick.
“I was nervous about going to this barbeque today, but I had a wonderful time. Courtney was the perfect hostess and very charming. Everyone was nice to me. I really didn’t know what to expect”—she tried to hurry—“Well, everyone except Bonnie. By the way, I overheard Bonnie and MaryAnn talking and everyone there had your back. That includes me. Sue—well Sue is lonely. She told me Tim works long hours, which she mentioned he enjoys, but she’s lonely. At some point, she asked me for my number. I don’t have one—as you know—but I thought that sounded dumb—everyone has a cell phone—so I just said I didn’t have it with me and I didn’t know my number. I never call myself. So, I’m guessing that’s why she gave me her number. I really didn’t know she was going to do it. If I had, would I have had her do it right in front of you?”
Tony hadn’t stopped her, so she decided to keep rambling, pacing a little. “When Courtney introduced me to Tim and Sue, I told Tim I’d heard good things about him—from you. I can only guess that made Sue and I instant friends. Women love to hear good things about their husbands. I would have told you if I’d gotten the number without you knowing. I have no way of calling, and if I just didn’t call, it would appear rude. I know how you feel about appearances.” She didn’t know what else to say, but at least she had said her piece. “I really did well today, this was just a misunderstanding, and your friends were very nice.”
She stood and maintained eye contact. Tony continued speaking as if no words had been uttered. “I’ve decided you may choose. Perhaps you would like to know your choices?”
Claire’s heart sank as she lowered herself into a chair at the table and looked away. Nothing she’d
said mattered. He hadn’t listened to a word. Defeat filled her voice, “Tony, your decision is made; I don’t care.” She silently smirked at the piece of paper on the table when she saw the title she’d written: positives from my day.
“The first option is a two-week timeout in your suite.”
What? That never crossed her mind. There was no way, she couldn’t take that. She glared at him.
*
Tony watched as Claire stood and met him face to face. God, her strength captivated him. Her voice sounded resilient, “Then I choose number two.”
He didn’t respond. The silence grew. He wanted her—he wanted to tell her he was sorry—he overreacted—but that wasn’t him. He couldn’t.
“Very well, undress.”
She didn’t hesitate, she obeyed his command. She started by unbuttoning her blouse, one button at a time. Then she shimmied out of her slacks; she didn’t argue or complain and maintained eye contact the entire time. Tony’s arousal was becoming difficult to conceal. As her body trembled slightly before him, his demeanor dissolved.
“Come here.” She did. He held her shoulders and looked into her green eyes. “Damn you, Claire.” He pulled her close. “I make snap decisions based on the visible evidence. Appearances are important. I assumed you had something planned with Sue—something I hadn’t approved. I was wrong. Your speech,” he lifted her chin, gently this time, as his tone softened, “was very brave”—He watched her expression—“It helped me see I’d jumped to the wrong conclusion.” He put his head down on her hair.
*
Claire exhaled at the unexpected revelation—Anthony Rawlings was apologizing. She stood still while he encircled her with his arms, her trembling ceased and she let her face fall against his chest, inhaling the scent of smoke on his shirt. She felt his erection against her hips and the tension began to build within her depths. Tony’s tone, now mellow, eased her stressed muscles, “Up until the moment Sue handed you that note, I was extremely proud of you. You were amazing. Courtney told me that about ten times.” Claire lifted her eyes to see his expression. It was smiling like his tone. Claire smiled and felt her body relax against his. “There’s something I’d like us to do.”
The relief of his apology overwhelmed her. Her body continued its disregard for reason. She wanted him to take her and didn’t hesitate. “Whatever it is—yes.”
“Your hair, smells like smoke. I’d like us to shower.” Claire took Tony’s hand and led him to her shower. Once there, she helped him undress, and he started undoing her braid. Under the warm spray of the shower he wet her hair, added shampoo, and gently massaged. “Your hair is beautiful, but it really needs trimming, and the weather is getting colder, so maybe some highlights. I believe you’ll enjoy the spa. It has a great reputation.”
She turned to face him. “You didn’t cancel my appointment?”
Smiling tenderly he said, “No, I guess I hoped something would change my mind.” After working the cream rinse into her hair, he took the shower gel and began to lather Claire’s back. Wrapping his arms around her, he lathered her breasts and stomach. With each stroke control became more and more difficult for him to maintain. That’s all right, Claire wanted him too.
His tender touch caused an ache deep inside of her. Turning her around he lifted her body as she wrapped her legs around his torso and his mouth excitedly nibbled her breasts. His tongue created intense sensations as it tantalized her hard round nipples. She gripped his wide shoulders and let her fingers run through his wet hair. His strong arms and body kept her pinned against the wall of the shower. His fingers tantalized until her moans brought him to the edge of explosion. The more he enticed—the more she yearned.
As he filled her completely, thunderous convulsions overtook her body. She expected his actions, but the fulfillment made her back arch and sounds escape her lips. Their bodies moved as one, not because of instructions or demands. Instead, the cause was erotic carnal physical instinct. In time the ardent passion moved from the shower to the bed. He received his desires, but only after assuring Claire did also, many times.
At some point during the night, Tony asked Claire what she overheard. She told him. At first, she didn’t want to say anything about her looking for a sugar daddy, but why hide anything now? Tony laughed.
He was happy to learn about MaryAnn, and that Courtney and Sue were so helpful throughout the day. She told Tony how much she liked seeing him in jeans—definitely sexy—Claire told him. He told her he preferred her without jeans—or anything else. That started them again.
Claire’s spa appointment would be the following Wednesday. Initially, she didn’t want to go, but now she thought about Chicago and Tony’s apartment. “How many apartments do you have?”
“As many as I need. I don’t like hotels much.” They both drifted off to sleep.
*
Tony woke before his alarm. Hearing Claire’s soft and delicate breathing, he saw covered only by a sheet and curled into a ball on the far side of the bed. With the pale light of the lingering moon he noticed her chestnut hair fanned around her head, damp and wavy, her body petite, soft, and supple. He carefully lifted the blankets and covered her. As he watched, the warmth of the blankets allowed her to unconsciously relax and settle into a deeper slumber.
This was not his plan. Things had been in the works for so long and now emotions were wreaking havoc. It was supposed to be easy. Her only purpose was for physical enjoyment, release of energy, and personal pleasure. He’d watched her for so long. He told himself he deserved that, yet somehow, now while at work—in a meeting—on a plane—anywhere—without warning—he would recall something she said or did, and a smile would come to his lips. Tony even noticed strange looks from Brent—a visible sign his thoughts were revealing themselves.
This was wrong. Tony didn’t want to have feelings. The sex was great. It was okay to want her—dominate her—and control her. It was not okay to want to be with her—please her—and love her. Yet, every one of his senses desired Claire. Watching her sleep, he wanted to see her emerald-green eyes that flared when she was upset, her neck that straightened with defiance even when her words accommodated his demands, and her body that filled his every waking thought. He wanted to touch her skin, warm, soft, yet firm, and her long silky hair. He wanted to taste her. He wanted to smell her scent when he first came home—clean and fresh with her chosen perfume and the aroma of her after sex—warm, moist, and exhausted. He wanted to hear her. At this moment, he heard her faint breathing, but he also liked to hear her endless talk. He knew she longed for companionship and camaraderie. He also knew he was currently her only choice. He tried desperately to appear uninterested, but her voice filled him with an intense desire he’d never experienced. That desire had a sexual component, but it also contained a desire to fulfill her yearnings. Anthony Rawlings never previously considered fulfilling someone else’s desires. His entire adult life had been about his wants, goals, ambitions, and needs.
As his mind pondered these dilemmas, he thought about her just a few feet away. He wanted her again. He knew he could wake her, and she would accommodate his demands. Laying his head back on the pillow he remembered the sex they experienced and wondered when did this happen? He no longer wanted to dominate—but to satisfy.
This situation was completely unplanned. His entire life, business, everything was calculated, how could this happen?
He hadn’t realized until he heard himself apologize. When he entered her suite he knew what he was going to say. It wasn’t what he said. Anthony Rawlings could count on one hand the people to whom he’d apologized. Now this woman—a piece of his plan—was on that shortlist.
At the Simmons’, she performed beyond his expectation. Then his overreaction almost ruined everything. Claire’s strength—standing up to him—explaining the situation—and then not complaining, yet complying with his punishment—touched him, but when she was relieved by his realization—instead of upset by his overreaction—she melted hi
m.
In reflection, he berated himself. He should have stayed indifferent, dominant, and in charge. The words from his past echoed in his memory, “Only the weak apologize.” He reconsidered waking her, fulfilling the indifferent domineering qualities that would prove he wasn’t weak. Then he saw her peaceful expression and thought of her giving and surrendering herself over and over. Quietly, he got out of bed, put on his jeans, and left her suite. Stepping into the corridor, he decided to workout.
There is something perverse about more than enough. When we have more, it is never enough. It is always somewhere out there, just out of reach. The more we acquire, the more elusive enough becomes.
—Unknown
Chapter Seventeen
‡
Clawson explained one more time. “It’s very easy. Textiles have made you a fortune, a fortune you can now plant and invest to grow a lot more. This is 1977. The real money isn’t in creating. It’s in owning and selling. See these figures?” He handed Nathaniel the reports. “You have capital not only in profit margins, but also in secured retirement plans. That money’s just sitting there, waiting for those employees to get old. Hell, many of them won’t be eligible for retirement for another twenty years. Use that money, invest it. Grow it. Right now it’s just rotting away in these accounts.”
Samuel stayed quiet as long as he could. His father’s dark eyes were starting to flash dollar signs. “Clawson, the problem with your plan is that our employees own that money—not us. They’ve entrusted us to keep that money for them so it will be available when they retire, and it’s growing interest.”
*
“With all due respect, Mr. Rawls, have you seen the interest rates? Your employees will have their money, because you aren’t going to lose it—you’re growing it. Then when the day’s done, they’ll have their retirement and Rawls Corp. will have additional profits.” Clawson spoke to Samuel, but hoped Nathaniel was the one listening.
Make Me: Twelve Tales of Dark Desire Page 17
