by Gow, Kailin
“Yes,” he answered, as Eric came around the front drive. “Why do you ask?”
“I’m not used to seeing it from the front. It’s beautiful!” He thanked her. She continued, “But, it looks older than fifteen years to me—the style I mean.”
“I patterned it after my family’s home from when I was a child.”
Claire knew he’d lost his parents and didn’t want to stir up bad memories, but her curiosity got the best of her. “I thought you built your fortune from nothing. How did your parents have a house like this?” They were now getting out of the car.
“It was my grandfather’s, not my parents’. My father was weak; however, my grandfather’s house and money were all lost over twenty-five years ago. My grandfather trusted the wrong people.”
Claire wasn’t sure what that wealth of information meant. Catherine told her that Mr. Rawlings didn’t allow many people to get close. She was sure this family history had something to do with that. As they walked to his office, she tried for a little more information. “It truly is amazing. Did you pattern the inside after it, as well?”
“Mostly, I even found and purchased some of the original artwork and antiques; however, I wanted my home equipped with all the modern conveniences and security equipment. Every inch of this house is under constant surveillance. I won’t make the same mistake my grandfather made.”
Claire considered what he was saying; he meant every inch of the perimeter. He was stopping someone from getting in who wasn’t supposed to be there.
Standing behind his desk, punching some buttons on his computer and rummaging through papers, Tony continued, “Haven’t you ever wondered how the staff knows exactly when to enter your suite?”
Claire’s knees wobbled, and she needed to sit down. “You mean my suite is under surveillance? Like there are cameras?”
Tony looked up from the papers and met Claire’s eyes. Seeing the repugnance, he smiled. His words slowed, adding malice. “Yes, of course. It’s all video recorded and saved.” Claire sat on the nearest chair. Suddenly, making the most of her newfound discomfort, he added, “Perhaps we could have a premier viewing, critique, and work on revisions.”
She detested his existence. “Tony, please tell me you’re joking, some sort of sick joke.”
His vile smirk gave spark to his darkening eyes. “But, my dear Claire, I am not. Now the staff doesn’t have access to the view of your bed. Only I have that. They do have view of the sitting area and the doorways to and from your dressing room and bath. That’s how they’ve been able to come and go without you seeing them.”
“But why? Why would you do that? Why would you keep it?”
Tony picked up his needed papers and a flash drive and moved to leave his office. “Because I can. I can watch and decide what I like and what I believe can be improved. You’ll understand after you get a chance to view it. Maybe tonight, but now I must be going.” He started to walk toward the hall doors.
Thinking her legs couldn’t support her weight; Claire stayed seated. The thought of him watching them, of her watching him with her, made her physically ill. She seriously believed if she stood she wouldn’t be able to control the revolt currently occurring in her stomach.
Tony reiterated, “It’s time to exit my office.” He watched as she sat motionless and heartlessly added, “And in case you were wondering—yes—this room, too, is under surveillance, except for my desk. I do have a great view of the sofa and this open area.” He nastily grinned and gestured to the setting of one of her worse nightmares. Something she’d pushed away. Now, she knew he had it on video and watched it! “Claire, I need to go. Get out of the chair, now.”
Absently, she stood, thinking only about keeping her breakfast down. Claire tried desperately to keep all other thoughts out of her mind as she left his office. Before she knew it, she was back in her suite. Her head spun. She wanted to flop on the sofa and stop the thoughts bombarding her consciousness, but he could see her.
Was there anywhere he couldn’t see her?
THAT NIGHT THEY dined on the back patio. It was shaded and the night air felt warm. The yard looked picture perfect. Even with the recent heat wave which had been accompanied by a drought, his lawn was lush and green thanks to the marvels of a sprinkling system and ground’s crew. Tony was doing what she despised: talking about his trip to Europe, the time in New York, anything except the cameras and videos.
Claire couldn’t understand how he could behave one way, say something, and then act as if it never happened. She, however, was having difficulty thinking of anything else. Her appetite gone, she barely ate any of her dinner.
Once they were done dining, Tony led Claire to the movie-theater. It was her retreat—a place to escape and watch singing and dancing. Tonight, Tony didn’t intend to watch a musical. He programmed the video system and entered a passcode. Suddenly, the screen was full of dates and locations, such as: 2010, May 05, S.E. suite. He had the ability to scroll to different dates and different locations. It wasn’t just her room. There were locations like: garages, kitchen, foyer, stairs, theater, pool, S.E. 2 floor hall, S.E. 1 floor hall, etc.
In some humiliating form of torture, he chose: 2010 March 20, S.E Suite, and then programmed the time. He scrolled up and the time decreased: 9, 8, 7. He returned to approximately 8:00 AM and hit enter. There on the movie screen, bigger than life, was Claire’s suite. She was wearing a white robe and lay curled up on the floor near the hall door. Claire didn’t need to watch, she knew too well what would happen. She also knew the Claire on the screen was covered in bruises, her hair was a mess, and she could see the demolition of the room. Now she heard a beep and the door opened.
Claire jumped, also hearing the sound and seeing Tony enter. “Good morning, Claire.” Claire looked at Tony.
“Good morning, Anthony. I want you to know, I’ve decided to go home. I’ll be leaving here today.”
Tony then spoke, his black eyes shining as he smiled. “Do you not like your accommodations?” His smile widened. “I don’t believe you’ll be leaving so soon. We have a legally binding agreement…” Tony took a bar napkin from his suit pocket. “…dated and signed by both of us.”
Claire didn’t want to watch anymore. “Please, Tony. I don’t want to see this.” She covered her eyes.
Tony physically removed her hands from her eyes. “I promised a viewing. I said you will watch, and you will watch.”
The video had progressed in real time. Claire looked up in time to hear her own voice obviously filled with alarm.
“It is not the end of this discussion. This is ludicrous. An agreement doesn’t give you the right to rape me! I’m leaving.”
Knowing what was to come. Claire closed her eyes as she heard Tony’s hand contact the screen Claire’s left cheek.
Unknowingly, her own fingers drift toward her left cheek. Opening her eyes she saw herself fly across the floor, and Tony walk over to that Claire. She closed her eyes again, hearing the voice on the screen with the cruel tone. “Perhaps in time your memory will improve. It seems to be an issue. Let me remind you again, rule number one is that you do as you are told. If I say a discussion is over, it is over, and this written agreement which states whatever is pleasing to me, means consensual, not rape.”
The real Claire still had her eyes shut. She knew the Tony on the screen was straightening his jacket. She could hear him continue in a disturbing, authoritative voice. “I have decided that it would be better if you did not leave your suite for a while. Don’t worry, we have plenty of time, 215 thousand dollars’ worth of time” She opened her eyes again to see the screen Tony step on broken crystal and speak again in a tone that made the real Claire shiver. “I’ll tell the staff that you may have your breakfast after you clean up this crystal.” Tony left Claire’s room.
“Please stop the video!” Claire cried. She couldn’t help it. “Please, I can’t watch anymore.”
Relishing Claire’s suffering, Tony said, “Oh, there’re so many
videos. We can watch for hours.” He hit some buttons and went back to the menu. “For example…” The screen read: March 19, 2010. “…how do you suppose your suite got into that condition? I’m sure we could find out.”
“Please!” she pleaded. Her head hurt and stomach twisted in knots. She couldn’t stand this. She tried desperately to make it stop. “Please… you’re leaving tomorrow. Wouldn’t you rather spend tonight making movies instead of watching?”
Her eyes were red and puffy, and her nose ran from crying.
Tony smirked at her desperation. His tone dripped with ruthlessness. “Maybe we should watch some more—find out where you need improvement.”
“I’ll do anything you say—anything you want me to do differently—just tell me. Just please don’t make me watch.” Claire was now on the floor in front of Tony, kneeling, crying. She hated that she’d been reduced to begging, but these videos ruined her whole compartmentalization. How could she keep these awful memories hidden if she was forced to watch them?
His dark eyes pierced her soul. His voice was cold as ice. “You will do whatever I say, even if it is to watch, but…” He hesitated to add emphasis. “…I don’t want to spend my last night, for over a week, here with you in this condition.” He stood, causing her to fall back onto the floor. “I’ll be in your suite in a few minutes.”
Claire stood.
Tony continued, “Go up and get ready. Wash your face! You look like hell, and as far as attire… I’m thinking some new lingerie.”
When she started to leave the theater, Tony gripped her arm. She stopped, met his gaze, and listened to his steely tone. “Claire, what do you say?”
She looked at him as they stood silently for a moment, and Claire’s confused mind spun. She couldn’t fathom what he wanted. When it hit her, fire ignited in her moist eyes. She swallowed her protest and managed to articulate, “Thank you, Tony.”
Loosening his grip, he responded, “You may demonstrate your gratitude when I get upstairs.”
Claire continued to stand, afraid to move. Her mind was too garbled. She didn’t know what to do or say. All she could do was pray that she would never see another of those videos. As if sensing her bewilderment, Tony remained in control of her motion. “You may go to your suite now.”
It was after sunrise when Claire felt Tony get out of her bed. She listened as he picked up his clothes, and she knew he was dressing. Next, she heard him open a drawer and rifle through it. She opened her eyes, and in the dim light, saw him writing a note. When he turned to look at her, she closed her eyes and feigned sleep. Doing her best to keep her breathing steady, she reminded herself, he wouldn’t be back for over a week.
At that moment in time, she detested everything about Anthony Rawlings.
Chapter 12
Lust and greed are more gullible than innocence.
—Mason Cooley
NATHANIEL DIDN’T MIND the commute between New York and New Jersey, especially when he drove the winding drive toward his home. Each time the beautiful combination of river stone, limestone, and brick came into view, he momentarily remembered the two-room apartment he’d shared with his wife. For a young soldier recently home from fighting the Japs, it was ample. Being a soldier and a veteran were the only attributes Sharron’s family saw in him. They were the only reasons they allowed their daughter to marry Nathaniel Rawls.
Today, as he stepped into the marble entry, he wished her high-and-mighty father could see his daughter now. Oh yes, Nathaniel Rawls did make something out of himself, and now, with Clawson’s ideas, there was so much more to be made. If his father-in-law were still alive he would gladly shove this up his—
“Good evening, Nathaniel.” Sharron’s greeting came from the archway to the sitting room. She had his bourbon waiting. Dinner would be precisely at 7:00 PM. Everyone knew that. Perhaps it was the military training, but punctuality was never questioned. “How was your day?”
“It’s better now.” He took the glass she handed to him and kissed his wife’s cheek. The sparkle of his wife’s eyes reflected the flames from the large fireplace. “How was your day, my love?”
Sharron chatted about the pressing concerns regarding the household staff, while Nathaniel thought about Rawls Corp. Of course, he responded and acknowledged her concerns, but his mind swirled with Clawson’s ideas. Just before 7:00 PM they heard Samuel and Amanda descending the grand stairs. They all congregated in the dining room.
He may think about work, but dinner was not the time to discuss it. Even though Nathaniel and Samuel had spent the day together debating ideas, Nathaniel and his son spent dinner talking with their wives, discussing weather, politics, sports, movies, etc…
A man’s home was his castle, and Nathaniel loved the castle his queen and family were able to enjoy.
Chapter 13
Look deep into nature, and then you will understand everything better.
—Albert Einstein
CLAIRE WAITED ABOUT ten minutes after hearing the door to her suite shut. During that time, she lay still, barely breathing, and pretending to sleep. She didn’t want to face him, talk to him, or even see him. Though appearing peacefully asleep, her mind was a whirlwind of questions: How long until I’m sure he won’t come back? Can he see me? Is he watching? Oh God! What did he write?
Finally, her curiosity won. She got out of bed and started to walk to the table to read his note. Suddenly, the thought hit her like a physical strike. She remembered the cameras and the staff. Reaching for her robe from the floor, she secured it around her nude body. Sitting on the table where he’d left it, was his note:
I believe we have a blockbuster on our hands. It’s hard to say, until we thoroughly review the footage I plan to return a week from Wednesday. Eric is available if you want to visit the Quad Cities. I trust last night’s film reminded you of my rules. Don’t disappoint me.
Never in her life had she remembered being so overwhelmed with emotion. Her entire being emitted loathing, directed completely and totally toward one man: Anthony Rawlings. She hated him, his sadistic ploys, and nasty reminders. Claire picked up the note, crumbled it into a ball, and threw it against the wall. It created significantly less mess than the vase of flowers had five months earlier.
Her mind tried desperately to compartmentalize the videos. She wanted to put them away—someplace she would never find them. Think of something else, she told herself. It was too difficult. She climbed back into bed and smelled his aftershave. Turning over the pillow, the cool side smelled fresh. That, with the realization he wouldn’t return until a week from Wednesday, gave her a sliver of peace. She tried to concentrate. What day is it now? Sunday. She felt her muscles relax. It was Sunday, his day to be home—but he was gone. Her eyes closed as tears began to slip onto her pillow. She drifted away to another place.
“MS. CLAIRE? MS. Claire, you must wake.”
Claire tried to focus. She’d been somewhere in a dream. Now hearing Catherine’s voice, she rolled over and saw her standing at the edge of her bed.
“Catherine, what are you doing?”
“Ms. Claire, it’s after 1:00 PM. You need to wake and eat. You’ve already missed breakfast and now lunch. I’m worried about you.” Claire saw Catherine’s concerned expression and heard her fretful tone.
From the moment Tony left the room and Claire read the note, she’d been crying, even in her sleep. Now, opening her puffy eye lids caused pain, which added to the ache in her body, head, and heart. She’d never felt more alone and isolated than she did. “Thank you, Catherine, for your concern, but I believe I’ll stay in bed today. I’m not feeling well.” She tried to sound strong, but with the words came more tears. The salt stung her already swollen eyes. Claire wanted to concentrate on Catherine, but her mind wouldn’t stop thinking of Tony and what he’d done. Not wanting Catherine to see her in this condition, Claire rolled her face into her pillow, making her words muffled. “Please leave me alone.”
Catherine didn’t leave. Inste
ad, she sat on the edge of Claire’s bed and tenderly stroked Claire’s hair as her head moved with the sobs. Catherine remained silent and comforted her until the sobs subsided and Claire caught her breath. “Ms. Claire, you’ll feel better if you shower and eat. Please let me help you.” Catherine’s concern and affection reminded Claire of her mother or grandmother; however, she knew if one of them were present, they’d tell her to run not shower.
Claire didn’t want to eat, shower, or even get out of bed. Her only desire was to be out of his house. At that moment, she didn’t care if it was by car or death. She just wanted out. The feeling of helplessness sat heavily on her chest. She had tried to survive this ordeal. She had even convinced herself she could handle whatever he sent her way. This new situation was too much. He broke her. Since March, she maintained her spirit, despite the loss of her body. Yesterday, he took that too. She turned to look Catherine in the eye and asked, “How have you been able to work for him all this time?”
Catherine stopped stroking Claire’s hair and gently took her hand. “Mr. Rawlings is a good man, Ms. Claire. He truly is.”
Claire shook her head as the tears and sobs resumed. “No! No, he isn’t! I’ve never met a more sadistic, cruel, and bad man.” She closed her eyes, enduring the sting of her tears, the pounding in her head, and taste of her runny nose.
Catherine handed Claire a tissue. “Mr. Rawlings hides his feelings with certain behaviors. He’s afraid to face his own emotions, and he uses this dark persona as a cover. It’s not who he truly is. I’ve known him a long time.”
Claire’s words came between whimpers. “Catherine, I can’t.” “I can’t get up.” “I can’t face the staff.” “They all know.” “They’ve all seen me… seen him… I just can’t.”
