by Gow, Kailin
As a means of escape, Claire turned to reading. The built-in bookcases were filled with current bestsellers. There were series and individual books. When she was a child she loved to read, but life had become too busy. That no longer seemed to be a problem.
Claire also discovered a small refrigerator continually stocked with water and fruit. No one asked what she wanted to eat, and truly she wasn’t hungry. There wasn’t anything for her to do to build an appetite. Each day she showered, dressed, and primped a little. Her initial rebellion became meaningless with no one to rebel against. One positive, with each passing day, her bruises faded from red, to blue, to purple, to green, to a now very indistinct yellow.
The knock came again. Food usually entered after the first knock. This person was waiting for an invitation. Claire didn’t think it was Anthony; he didn’t knock. Could it be Catherine?
Slowly, she approached the door, and asked, “Yes? Who’s there?” The anticipation of actually hearing a voice stimulated her as she waited for a response.
Chapter 5
Disappointment to a noble soul is what cold water is to burning metal. It strengthens, tempers, intensifies, but never destroys it.
—Unknown
“MS. CLAIRE, MAY I come in?”
Claire’s heart leaped. The woman she barely knew was the one person Claire prayed would come to her each of the last thirteen days. Excited to use her voice again, she said, “Yes, Catherine, please come in.” It wasn’t as though Claire could open the door from her side. Claire heard the beep.
Catherine opened the door and smiled sadly at Claire. Claire wanted to hug her, but something in Catherine’s eyes said, “No, not now. I wasn’t able to come up here before.” It was as if she spoke, yet her lips never moved.
“Ms. Claire, you seem… well rested. I have a message for you.” Claire nodded, anticipating the message from Anthony. “Mr. Rawlings will be coming to see you tonight. He will be late in the city. He said to expect him between 9:00 PM and 10:00 PM.”
Claire looked at the clock near the bed. It was only 4:35 PM. “Okay.” She didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t exactly refuse his entering. He didn’t ask, only proclaimed. “Will we be dining?”
“You’ll dine alone. His arrival will be too late for dinner.” Catherine looked as though she wanted to say more, but knew better. Maybe someday Claire hoped she would be like that—know better. Then again, hopefully, she would be out of here before then.
“Catherine, could you please help me prepare?”
“No, miss. I’m sorry, but your attire and presentation are to be of your own doing.” Catherine turned to leave the suite.
“Please wait. Catherine, can’t you please stay and talk to me, even for a little while? After all, we have five hours before Mr. Rawlings will arrive.”
“I must go, but may I say, you look beautiful? I like your face… well—ah… clear.” Catherine smiled a real and tender smile and exited the suite.
Somehow Claire knew it was a mind game. He was testing her to see how she would dress, look, and act. He was also testing her to determine if the mere promise of his presence caused uneasiness. She decided this examination was an opportunity to respond to her circumstances—instead of react. He would take her body. That reality had been made painfully clear; however, she would not let him have her mind. He wanted her to spend the next five hours alone, dreading his arrival, filled with fear and trembling. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
Claire had five hours to prove she was in control of her life: if not to him, then at least to herself. She walked into her closet and, like a general selecting soldiers, perused the racks and shelves selecting an outfit that would bolster her self-confidence. She found it: a black dress with a long flowing skirt. The idea of being near him in a dress made her queasy, but she liked the boldness.
With each flash of the mascara, or zip of the flowing black satin dress, she reviewed her decision. Escape from this room was not possible. The only way to get out of here was to concede to whatever he demanded and find another path. Looking at herself in the mirror, Claire straightened her neck, righted her shoulders, and confirmed her mission. She had tried physically fighting. It had been counterproductive and only seemed to intensify Anthony’s resolve. She needed to yield—temporarily—to his demands in order to access a means of exodus. Completing her hairstyle, she dissected her plan. It may have seemed like surrender, but her gut told her that resigning to him, with a straight face and experiencing the effects of her verbalization, took more control than the pleas, accusations, and fighting of two weeks earlier.
At 8:45 PM Claire buckled the Jimmy Choo sandals and stood before the mirror. She looked the part; she just needed to perform it. With each tick of the clock her nerves wreaked havoc with her stomach. The meal she’d consumed hours ago threatened to revolt.
Damn him! She knew this was his plan, and she refused to give him the gratification. Reaching for her current novel by the bed, she went to the overstuffed chair and sat. Although she read the words, the text made no sense. She couldn’t concentrate as her chest thumped with a too rapid heartbeat, and her mouth tasted like cotton. Getting up, Claire retrieved a bottle of water. While her sweaty palms made opening the cap difficult, the water helped her dry mouth—until it hit her stomach. Fearing she would need to run for the bathroom, she remembered to breathe—deep cleansing breaths. Miraculously, her nerves began to calm as the flames of the fire warmed, and she attempted to concentrate on the words of her book.
At 9:58 PM, preceded by the beep, her suite door opened. Anthony walked in like he’d been there earlier that day—not two weeks ago. Dressed in a dark gray double-breasted silk suit, he appeared heavier than she remembered; maybe not heavy—massive, broad-chested. She wasn’t sure of his height, but guessed about six four which would make him an entire twelve inches taller than she. His age showed in fine lines around his dark eyes. Claire estimated him to be in his late thirties.
“Good evening, Claire.” His voice rumbled through the suite.
The heat from the fireplace helped to ward off trembling. Claire stood and nodded. “Good evening, Anthony.” Taking command, she suggested, “Shall we sit?”
Anthony sat on the sofa, leaned back, and unbuttoned his jacket. Claire sat on the edge of the chair and looked directly into his eyes. She wouldn’t show fear; although his dark eyes were the scariest things she’d ever seen.
“Do you think you are ready to continue with our agreement? Or do you need some more time alone to consider the situation?”
“After consulting my attorney, I feel I have no choice but to continue with our agreement.”
Anthony’s eyes darkened at the mention of a consultation. “Claire, I know you’re joking, but do you really think it’s a good idea? Considering your circumstances?”
Keeping her smile intact, she said, “I’ve had a lot of time to think, joviality has sustained me.”
“I must say your demeanor impresses me. I’ll need to deliberate on this new personality.”
The two sat in silence while the fireplace blower hummed in the background. Claire used every ounce of control to appear calm while Anthony pondered. He remained seated against the back of the sofa, yet his jaw seemed to clench as his eyes devoured her, scanning and taking her in. She wished she could read his eyes. Then suddenly they caught hers. “Tell me what you have learned during your reflection time.”
“I’ve learned I have many clothes, very nice clothes, may I add. I have a balcony that I can’t access because the door is locked. I have a refrigerator and small microwave, but honestly, the microwave seems unnecessary as I also have food brought to me three times a day.”
“That’s all very nice.” Anthony said with a hint of sarcasm. “But what have you discovered about your situation? Do you even know where you are?” His mocking tone suggested confidence that only he held the answers he sought.
Claire contemplated her response. Should she be honest and tell him sh
e learned Iowa City from the Weather Channel? What if that resulted in loss of TV stations; she might not know what day it is. Then again, if she lied and said she didn’t know and he caught her in a lie, what would happen? Maintaining an air of confidence, she said, “I’m in Iowa, or at least somewhere near Iowa City.”
Gripping the arm of the sofa with his right hand, Claire watched his muscles tense. Each word became more exaggerated as he spoke, “And you learned this from whom?”
“I learned it from the Weather Channel—Local on the Eights. The local weather for this area comes from Iowa City, Iowa.” Claire continued to sound as lighthearted as possible.
Anthony’s body relaxed and he nodded his head in approval. “Very well, that will spare me telling you.” Claire wanted to ask how she got there, but before she could, he continued, “For the sake of clarity, since that seemed to be a problem in the past, you are aware that your indebtedness to me can only be determined paid by me?”
Claire swallowed. This is what she anticipated. Smiling, she nodded.
His voice, was strong and authoritative. “I prefer verbal confirmation.”
“I am aware that you are the only one who can decide when my debt is paid in full.” The calmness of her voice surprised even Claire. She said a silent prayer that he wouldn’t notice her hands balled into fists with her nails biting into her own palms. If she concentrated, she could remember to relax her hands, but at this moment, her concentration was needed elsewhere.
“You are also aware that your duties require you to be available to me whenever, wherever, and however I demand?” His dark eyes never faltered, staring directly at her, yet his body language looked relaxed, arrogant. He was definitely a man willing to push Claire to the brink. It was like watching a poker game, pushing the odds. Would there be a payoff? Or would someone blink?
“I am aware.”
“You’re aware that you must at all times obey my rules?” Anthony’s eyes penetrated.
“I’m aware that I must do as I’m told.” The words hurt her throat but sounded easily spoken. She was not going to let him fluster her, and damn, she didn’t need that skin on her palms anyway. Her smile remained steady and undaunted.
Anthony remained silent for an extended period of time, watching Claire. Finally, he spoke, “Very well.” He stood. Claire expected some kind of directive. Instead, he walked toward the door.
“Wait.” She proclaimed. He turned to look at her, displaying astonishment at her command. She immediately realized her words overstepped her bounds, but she couldn’t go on locked alone in the suite. Her tone softened, “I’m sorry, but may I leave this suite?”
“As long as we are certain on the terms of our agreement and you follow the rules and orders given, I see no problem with you roaming the house.” He reached for the door handle. “It is rather large. I’ll be working from home tomorrow. Your services will be utilized then, so be prepared for my call. When I have a chance, I’ll give you a tour of the house and define your limitations. I think it’s best that you don’t roam tonight. I don’t want you getting lost.” She heard the beep as he reached for the lever.
“Anthony? I don’t have any… duties tonight?” her voice began to fail her. She sounded less like the strong, lighthearted woman she desperately tried to project and more like a child.
“I have recently arrived from a series of meetings in Europe and am quite tired. I’m glad to know we have a mutual understanding. Good night, Claire.”
“Good night, Anthony.” He shut the door. She heard the beep and the lock.
Her thoughts swirled. He has been in Europe! I’ve been locked in here while he was on another continent! Okay, focus, the door will be open tomorrow. I engaged in a conversation, the first one in almost two weeks. He didn’t say anything about my appearance: all that work and not a word. Perhaps compliments aren’t his style, only criticism. That’s all right, because tomorrow I’m leaving this suite and leaving the suite is one step closer to going home!
Tossing and turning, Claire had too much energy to sleep. It wasn’t just her body—her mind spun with the excitement of her impending release. During the past thirteen days her every need was met—except her need to be with people. She couldn’t remember a time in her life that didn’t include interaction. It was something she took for granted—until now. The isolation was unbearable. While it was happening, she wouldn’t allow herself to think about it, but now that the end was near her anticipation mounted. She lay in bed and pondered Anthony Rawlings. What kind of man is he?
He obviously liked control—complete control. What did he mean when he said, “Be prepared for my call”? Did that mean she should be up early waiting for someone to come and get her? He didn’t give her a time. She looked at the clock: 5:33 AM. Should she get up now? What if she fell asleep and wasn’t ready when he called? Could she end up locked in her suite another thirteen days? She couldn’t take that. Claire needed companionship.
Her mind slipped back to college and recalled living in the sorority house surrounded by girls. She often longed for alone time, away from the drama. There were always issues between sisters, with boyfriends, classes, or parents. At the time, she wished for a place of her own and time by herself. Another of Grandma’s sayings came to mind: “Be careful what you wish for.” She would love to have that camaraderie, and even drama, again.
At 6:00 AM she gave up, got out of bed, and went to the bathroom to get ready for whatever the day had in store. She spent almost two weeks doing the same thing. Now, she prepared to venture into the unknown. It both scared and excited her—just like the unpredictability of weather.
Claire’s breakfast waited on the table when she left the bathroom. With her hair styled in a low ponytail—casual yet classy, and her make-up done, she decided to dress before eating and entered the closet. Stepping into the sea of material Claire wondered if every outfit would be so difficult to choose and every action was a test? Decision made, she put on dark jeans and a sweater. Entering her suite, ready for coffee, she suddenly dropped her shoes and let out a startled, muffled scream.
Lost in her own thoughts, Anthony’s presence caught her off guard. She hadn’t heard him enter. Damn, could he learn to knock? He grinned at her surprised and shocked response. He’d startled her, and she could tell that made him happy. “Good morning, Claire.”
“Good morning, Anthony, I didn’t hear you come in.” She picked up her shoes and regained some composure.
“Are you ready for your tour?” He looked at her uneaten breakfast. “Did you plan to eat first? I have a web conference in forty-five minutes.”
“What’s a web conference?” Suddenly, she thought she shouldn’t have asked, or should she? She just didn’t know what to do or say. She knew it was just nice to have someone to talk to—even him.
“It’s like a conference call between many different people, but instead of being on the phone it is over the Internet.”
She couldn’t believe how casual and friendly he spoke. He even looked more relaxed, wearing slacks and a shirt with no tie or jacket. It reminded her of the Anthony she met in Atlanta. “It’s okay. I’m really not hungry. I’m more excited to get the tour.” She put on her shoes and sipped a little coffee.
He began by explaining the shape of the house, a main section which housed the dining room, formal living room, sitting room, kitchen, and the grand foyer. The foyer contained the main stairway. Two large wings projected off from the main section. Stairways were also found at the end of each of those wings. The staff had access to an elevator for transporting carts and larger items to the second and lower level.
He continued to explain: Claire’s suite was located on the second floor of the southeast wing, as they stepped out of the suite. Claire looked slowly down the great expanse of the hallway at many other doors. She hadn’t heard anyone or anything her entire stay. Anthony moved five steps ahead before she remembered to walk. The sensation of stepping out of the suite was unnerving, like leaving t
he security of a nest.
She quickly caught him and did her best to walk at his fast pace. At times he wouldn’t say a word, just walk. Other times, he spoke at great length about a piece of art or antique. Along the tour he showed her a library adorned with beautiful cherry woodwork and book-lined shelves. It occupied two stories and contained a back wall with a sliding ladder like you see in movies. She could get lost in there for days. She looked around for a computer. Didn’t all libraries have computers? “Is there a computer in here, some way to find books?”
“I think it would be best for you to not have access to computers, the Internet, or telephones.” Anthony’s statement wasn’t an answer to Claire’s question. It was a proclamation.
The tour of his magnificent house held so many treasures that Claire momentarily forgot why she was there. His declaration brought the reason rushing back. She knew all forms of communication were absent from her suite, but assumed that outside the door there would be Wi-Fi. Even though she hadn’t seen her BlackBerry for over two weeks, she hoped she would once again be connected to the real world. He looked at her with his dark eyes as he spoke. She did her best to maintain his gaze, swallowed, and nodded in response.
Next, he took her to an exercise room in the lower level, complete with all kinds of weight equipment, as well as a treadmill, elliptical, and stepper. Attached to the workout room was an indoor pool. Though not full sized, it was big enough to swim laps. When she saw the pool, the stunning mosaic tiles that covered the walls and floor, the windows that allowed sunlight to penetrate, and smelled the familiar chlorine, she let out a gasp.
“Do you like to swim?” he asked.
