by Gow, Kailin
“Oh, yes. This is amazing.” Claire’s eyes glowed.
“You’ll have bathing suits tomorrow.”
His words surprised her. She hadn’t asked; however, he was offering, and she did like to swim. “Thank you.”
The formal dining room was exquisite. The table currently held chairs for ten, but the room seemed as though it could seat at least three times as many. The intricate woodwork accented light yellow walls and included hand-carved trim, molding, and built-in cabinetry. The ceiling was divided into sections separated by wood trim, each section embellished with different designs and some sort of gold flaking that created a shimmer in the light of the sun. The cabinetry held what Claire believed to be very lavish crystal and china. The height of the ceiling allowed the windows and French doors to be taller than most, at least ten feet, and adorned by exquisite flowing draperies. “We’ll eat in here when I decide. If I’m not home, you’ll eat in your suite.”
Down the west corridor just off the main section was a set of grand double doors. “This is my office. Your services will be required in here on days I work from home—like today. My office is strictly forbidden without my permission. Is that clear?” Claire nodded. Anthony turned to look at her, standing very close. “Claire, I want verbal responses to my questions. Do not make me tell you that again.”
“I understand, your office is off-limits unless you tell me to be there.” Her eyes fluttered from his eyes to the wall, straining to maintain eye contact. They hadn’t made it down the rest of the west corridor when Anthony looked at his watch.
“I have business I must do. It’s 7:25 AM. I want you back at my office at 10:30 AM. You have some debt to pay off.” He obviously enjoyed the uncomfortable feeling his remarks produced. “Do you think you can find your way back to your suite?”
“Yes, I can, but do I have to?” She told him how she would like to go back to the library and look around. She promised she would be back by 10:30 AM.
He hesitated, but reluctantly agreed. “We have not discussed all of the rules pertaining to the house. At this point, do not go outside. Permission for entering the grounds will be contingent upon your ability to follow rules within the house.”
“I understand, and I’ll be back by 10:30 AM.” Filled with exhilaration, Claire walked down the marble corridor toward the library. The sensation of her shoes on the marble floor, the sound of her steps, and the coolness of the empty hall thrilled her senses. To be so deprived of anything except the same four walls, no matter how beautiful, and to be free to roam was ecstasy. She had three hours to spend in the library.
Anthony’s collection of books was amazing. He had classics: Tale of Two Cities, Pride and Prejudice, Great Expectations, Moby Dick, and literally hundreds more. There were resource books, encyclopedias, dictionaries, and language translation books. She found biographies and memoirs, science fiction, romance, thrillers, and fantasy. Just as she entered another section Anthony met her face to face. Once again, she jumped. This time he wasn’t smiling.
Claire’s mind spun, I can’t be late. I’ve been watching the clock over there. The clock read 10:37 AM. Where had the time gone? “Oh, Anthony, I’m so sorry. I was just engrossed in all you have—”
His hand struck her cheek. She didn’t fall but wobbled off balance. He then pulled her toward him. His warm hand on the back of her neck, entwined her hair, and caused her face to tilt upward until all she could see were his penetrating eyes.
“Simple instructions, which were what you were given, perhaps you’re not ready to leave your suite, not quite yet.” He loosened the grip on her hair.
“No, please, don’t say that. I can follow instructions. I can.” Claire didn’t want to beg, but she couldn’t stand the thought of being locked in her suite another day.
“Follow me to my office, now.”
Each of his strides equaled three of Claire’s; she practically ran to keep up. When they reached the double doors of his office, he opened one and shoved her inside. She had only seen his office doors, but now she looked around the interior. Like everything else in the mansion, it was lavish and substantial. The walls were surfaced with more of the impressive cherry paneling, decorative trim, and ornate bookcases. There was a very impressive mahogany desk, a leather sofa, chairs, and a conference table. His desk contained many computer screens as well as a large screen on the wall that could be one or divided into multiple screens. Currently, it was subdivided, and each screen contained stock market information. The lights on the telephone indicated it held multiple lines.
He turned and locked the door. Claire’s heart pounded, her face felt flush, and she began to tremble. Standing alone in the vastness of his office, she watched as Anthony contemplated his next move. His angry expression terrified her. The completely black eyes were the same ones she’d witnessed in her suite two weeks before.
After a protracted silence, he spoke with an even flat tone. “So you say you can follow instructions, we will see.”
The debate was over. It was the outcome that frightened Claire. A few hours ago he’d been another person. Now, the man standing before her was the same one who abused her so violently the first two nights of her stay. His grin wasn’t playful—it was ruthless. “Let’s start with you taking off your clothes.”
Doing her best to be obedient, Claire did as she was told and removed her clothes, starting with her shoes and ending with her sweater. Next, he told her to lie down on the carpet, face first and keep her eyes down. She did—feeling the plush carpet rough against her skin. Her trembling intensified as the vulnerability of the position alarmed her. She couldn’t see or hear his movements. Straining to listen, she eventually heard his belt as it passed each loop. The first lash hit so unexpectedly that it made her scream out in agony—and shock. She moved her hand to her mouth, bit down, and refused to scream anymore.
When she didn’t respond, he turned her over, stood above her, and removed his tie and slacks. He didn’t say a word but watched for her reaction. Perhaps she was in shock. Whatever it was, Claire was unable to respond. She waited, knowing that whatever he chose to do would be bad. His hands forcibly moved her legs, while she observed—disengaged—as if in another dimension. The scene she witnessed was brutal and domineering.
By the grace of God, she felt everything in a removed yet present fashion. She saw his actions and heard his demands. She was present, saw his expression, felt his body, smelled his skin, and tasted her shame, yet she was somehow detached—not there. By the time he finished, her body exhibited various rug burns, and her hair was tangled and matted from the same lush carpet.
Anthony Rawlings then callously stood and dressed. Pausing for a moment, he loomed six feet above her and then silently walked to the attached bathroom. There, he combed his hair and replaced the tie he’d removed. Meanwhile, Claire sat in the middle of the room involuntarily shivering, holding her clothes, and silently weeping, unsure of her next move.
When he returned to his office, his expression was of disdain and his tone was flat and cold. “You may go to your suite, clean yourself up, and get ready to demonstrate to me again your ability to follow instructions.”
Claire began to gather her clothes and dress, when he added, “Do not leave your suite until I decide. Your pass to roam has been revoked.” Her mind was beyond comprehension; thinking outside the box was more than she could handle. She remembered an agreement with herself for self-preservation: conceding to demands. Yet at this moment in time, Claire didn’t know or understand what she was doing, agreeing to, or being forced to do. She was lost and most likely suffering from shock. She only remembered his directives: go back to her suite and clean up.
Leaving his office, she turned toward the grand staircase. Beyond the stairs through the magnificent foyer with the high ceiling, Claire saw the double doors leading to outside. They were tall and ornate. Without thinking she walked toward them. Perhaps she should have run, but no one was around. The house was empty, like a museum or
perhaps a tomb.
She heard her heart pound in her ears as she approached the handle wondering if it would open. She wouldn’t learn. Suddenly, the sound of shoes on the marble floor of the corridor muffled her heartbeat. The footsteps didn’t sound rushed—but determined—and were getting closer. Claire quickly turned and began the ascent to the second floor. She didn’t look back down. She didn’t want to see the person producing the footsteps, especially if that person would meet her gaze with a black-eyed stare. Instead, she walked toward her suite.
By the time she closed the door her internal monologue was in full gear. He actually hit me with his belt! My God! The man is mad. I have to find a way out of here!
At that moment, she didn’t search for an escape. Instead, she showered, redid her hair, her make-up, and put on another outfit. While she cleaned herself up she contemplated fleeing. Questions arose: Where would she go? How would she get there? How far to civilization? And what were her chances of success? And most importantly, if she failed, what would he do?
Her lunch arrived. Even though she missed breakfast, she barely ate. She sat quietly on the sofa, read a book, stared into space, and waited for instructions. A feeling of helplessness settled into her chest like nothing she’d ever known.
About 4:30 PM, the beep sounded. The door opened, and she dutifully obeyed. His demeanor, less malicious than before, seemed merely callous. The forbearance of the early morning and the tour were gone. Anthony had a goal for his actions: Claire needed to understand who was in control. She had done this to herself. He told her. She needed to do what she was told. But did she? No.
He made her say: “No, I didn’t do what I was told.” And behaviors have consequences. Could she remember that? “Yes, I understand behaviors have consequences.”
That evening they didn’t dress appropriately as they prepared for dinner in Claire’s suite. Anthony decided Claire would model some of the lingerie. Dinner was eaten while wearing a flowing black silk negligee.
Every time she thought he was done and would leave, he regrouped. Maybe a drink of water or check the messages on his iPhone, then he resumed. The violence ended, but the domination continued. Although Claire wanted to scream, she didn’t. The more she obeyed, the less ruthless his instructions. After midnight, Anthony left her suite. He didn’t say whether her door would be unlocked in the morning, and she couldn’t remember if she heard the familiar beep. She wanted to check, but her body barely moved. Instead, she closed her eyes and went to sleep.
Chapter 6
Human beings, by changing the inner attitudes of their minds, can change the outer aspects of their life.
—William James
HER EYES DIDN’T open until she heard the door and her breakfast arrived. It usually came after she awoke. Looking at the clock, she saw that it was 10:30 AM, the latest she’d slept since her initial arrival. The young lady with the food apologized. “I’m sorry, Ms. Claire. I know you were still asleep, but Mr. Rawlings would like you dressed and in his office by noon. Catherine said you need to eat.” She handed Claire her robe as she got out of the bed.
“Is Mr. Rawlings working from home again today?” Claire’s head pounded and body ached. This was way too late for coffee, and perhaps the activities of yesterday were affecting her.
“Miss, today is Sunday. Mr. Rawlings is usually home on Sundays.” The young lady left the suite. Claire made a mental note: Watch out for Sundays.
Timidly, Claire approached the mirrors in the bathroom. Lowering the soft robe, she saw long red stripes on her back and new bruises. She didn’t cry; instead, she steamed with anger. Of course, it was directed toward him but also at herself. She wanted this nightmare to end, but she couldn’t figure out the solution. Claire wasn’t accustomed to the feeling of helplessness, and she didn’t like it. Her only solution was to remain resolute until an opportunity for escape arose.
At 11:57 AM Claire knocked on Anthony’s office door. The door opened, and he looked up from his desk. “Good afternoon, Claire.”
Smiling respectfully, she replied, “Good morning, Anthony. I believe it’s still morning.” Claire walked into his office and stood before his desk: the same place where twenty-four hours earlier had been the terrifying scene of his rage and domination. With her back straight, chin high, and smile plastered on her lips, she looked at his eyes and wondered who he would be today.
The blouse she chose and her make-up covered the visible signs of the prior day’s happenings. Anthony sat quietly and studied her. The silence made her uncomfortable. She prayed he couldn’t hear her heart beating too fast or notice her wet palms. Long ago, she learned that awkward silences were an interview technique. She wouldn’t be the one to break the silence.
Finally, he said, “I believe you are correct, for another two minutes.” Anthony’s eyes seemed lighter. So Claire breathed easier and smiled. She was on time. He continued, “Lunch will arrive here in a few minutes. I thought we would discuss some of the glitches that our business deal has encountered.” He stood and moved toward Claire.
She kept her ground, neck straight, and watched as he circled the grand desk. He stopped only inches away. She inhaled his fragrant cologne and tilted her neck upward to see his face. He didn’t speak but indicated with a gesture that they move to the conference table where he pulled out a chair for her to sit; she did. He sat at the head of the table with Claire to his right. The room was silent as Claire thought to herself how his gentlemanly behaviors were such a farce.
With her smile still intact, Claire asked, “Glitches? I’m not sure what you’re referring to.”
BEFORE RESPONDING, HE sat back and contemplated Claire Nichols. Her eyes contained an intense fire. She had more daring than half of the presidents of his many companies. After what he put her through, he couldn’t help but be astounded.
“I wasn’t sure you would come here today.”
“I wasn’t aware I had a choice. I believe my job duties include doing as I’m told.”
“That’s correct.” He chose his words carefully. “Perhaps you can be trained.”
CLAIRE’S MOUTH TWITCHED, but she stayed steady. Getting upset would only accomplish losing control. By losing control she would be giving it to him. He may take it, but by God, she wasn’t giving it. “I’m trying my best. Now glitches?”
A knock came as the door opened and their lunch arrived. They sat in silence as the young lady placed their food in front of them and asked Mr. Rawlings if they needed anything else. He informed her they were currently fine. She retreated from the office and closed the door behind her.
“Glitches, yes—I spent 215 thousand dollars for a business deal. I make deals that will be lucrative to me. I expected a better return for my money than I’ve experienced in the last three weeks.”
If this was supposed to shock Claire, it didn’t. She casually picked up her fork, ate a piece of broccoli, and responded. “I would believe that yesterday you successfully increased your return.” Stabbing another piece of broccoli, she added, “Besides, wasn’t it you that decided your business holding would be locked away for almost two weeks?” She ate more broccoli. Part of her feared retaliation, but the other part believed he appreciated the bravado.
“That is true, and after what I’m currently witnessing, I’m considering the possibility that it was worth it.” He watched her expression as he spoke. “And we have no deadline for completion of our contractual agreement.”
Claire didn’t know if she should be happy that he seemed impressed. She did think an estimated timeline would be nice, but she didn’t mention that either. Instead, she said, “Then apparently, the glitches have been resolved.” She felt she appeared respectful enough to avoid confrontation, but impertinent enough to demonstrate resilience. The light brown gleam around his irises, somehow told her he wouldn’t explode. She would learn to read him. They continued to eat.
Claire let Anthony do most of the talking. He discussed more of the house rules. She could roam the
house; however, in anticipation of more glitches, she was not permitted to go outside or consider leaving the property. His office and the corridor of his suite were off-limits. Her schedule would be hers for most of the day—unless told otherwise by him or Catherine. He didn’t work from home that often, but when he did she would be required to be nearby and available at all times. On days he went to the office, his only requirement would be that Claire be back in her suite by 5:00 PM to receive evening instructions. He was a very busy man and wouldn’t be home every evening to dine with her; however, on the nights he intended to be home, she would receive instructions for time of dinner, apparel, and other plans he may have. If he were in town, she would receive instructions as to his intentions regarding visiting her suite and the estimated time of his arrival. Claire verbally responded to all of his rules.
The young lady with the food came back to clear the dishes and brought a carafe of coffee with two cups. Claire’s headache was improving with food, but more coffee would be helpful. Anthony told the young lady that he and Ms. Claire would be having coffee on the sun porch. She thanked him and left with the coffee. Claire didn’t remember a sun porch from the tour.
Walking beside Anthony, they left the office. Located in the rear of the main section of the mansion, through the archways behind the grand stairs, and past the sitting room, they stepped down into a room made completely of glass. Claire felt faint as her eyes adjusted to the sunshine, and she inhaled the fresh spring air. The room was decorated with brightly cushioned rattan furniture as well as tropical plants. Anthony sat on a loveseat and Claire on a chair. The sides of the room were opened to allow a cool fresh breeze. Her bogus composure disappeared as the sensation of the fresh spring air blew her hair, and she listened to the faint sounds of nature.
When she was a child, her dad, a policeman in Indianapolis, knew how much Claire loved the outdoors. Each spring he’d take her to one of the many state parks. They would spend the weekend together hiking, fishing, talking, and wandering. Her grandfather, his father, had been FBI. It was ingrained in them to be cautious. On those weekends he let Claire believe she had control over their plans and the direction of their adventures. Remembering their activities she smiled, knowing he did most of the steering and all of the protecting. The aroma of the fresh spring air brought the memories of those adventures soaring back to Claire’s consciousness.
