This time she remembered the condom. “Do you have any more protection?”
Harry released his embrace, grasped her hand, and led her to the bedroom. Going to the bedside stand, he opened his wallet, and with a triumphant look produced a small silver square packet.
Claire’s smile and lifted eyebrows begged the question, did you expect this?
“What can I say? Once a Boy Scout—always prepared.” His infectious levity made her giggle. Harry crawled on the bed and patted the mattress. She willingly followed, unable to restrain the large ridiculous smile overtaking her face.
Gently easing her onto the pillows, Harry moved to the foot of the bed. With his own devilish snicker, he allowed his lips to brush the skin of her ankle, calf, knee, thigh, hips, and stomach. By the time he reached her breasts, Claire’s expression morphed into a pleasure clouded gaze, and her back arched as he teasingly suckled each nipple.
Weaving her fingers through his unruly hair, she asked the question burning in her mind, “How many of those packets do you have?”
Harry lifted his eyes to hers. “This is my last one.” She exhaled. “I suppose we’d better make it count.”
The thought alone electrified her skin, taking her beyond words. She gasped as her head foolishly bobbed in response.
She heard him say, “I know a few other ways to utilize our resources,” as his kisses moved back toward her stomach and south.
Acquiescing to his suggestion, Claire fell against the soft pillows, allowing her body to enjoy the excursion.
Phillip Roach reviewed the video: 23:42:34: Mr. Rawlings leaves Claire’s suite. Phillip notes she appears unharmed, perhaps slightly stunned, as she closes the door. Phil rubbed his temples and ridiculed himself for sending the note. Thankfully, since he hadn’t heard from Mr. Rawlings, he assumed Claire managed to hide its existence from his employer. There was something in Mr. Rawlings’ voice as he waited in that car, something which alarmed Phil. Now, shaking his head at the stilled image of Ms. Nichols closing the door while simultaneously looking into her closed hand, Phil acknowledged Claire’s talent. This petite woman could influence Mr. Rawlings, in ways few others could.
The video restarted, 03:17:25: Ms. Nichols had a crowd at her door. Listening to the dialogue prior to the door opening, Phil determined Harrison Baldwin to be the one to gather the group. Baldwin looked and sounded tense while he banged on her door. As Claire appeared, she looked recently awakened, having slept in her clothes. Though her face was barely visible through the crowd and Baldwin’s embrace, she looked uncharacteristically disheveled.
The others went away while Baldwin entered the suite. Phil rewound the feed and listened again. Though difficult to hear everything, it sounded as though they said something about charges. Claire specifically said no charges to the police woman.
The camera didn’t activate again until 11:13:48, when Mr. Baldwin opened the door to allow room service to enter with a cart, the exchange polite and short. Baldwin wore the same clothes from the night before.
At 13:37:16, Mr. Baldwin pushed the cart into the hall and left the suite. At 14:16:32, Ms. Nichols exits her suite wearing a beach cover-up, hat, sunglasses, and flip-flops and carrying a beach bag.
Phil decided to get a closer look at Claire’s suite. He stopped on his way to the pool. When he reached her door, he found it ajar with a housekeeping cart parked before her entrance. Casually, Phillip Roach stepped around the cart and waved to the housekeeper, in the bedroom changing the sheets. Noticing the blanket and sheet upon the couch, Phil grinned and clicked a picture. Although it was none of his business, he suspected Mr. Rawlings would be as happy about this discovery as he.
Phil clicked a picture of the coffee table with an empty bottle of wine and three glasses. Next, he nodded politely to the housekeeper, left the suite, and walked toward the pool.
Easing into a lounge chair shadowed by a large umbrella, Phil’s eyes settled upon his new obsession. Despite her eventful night with multitudes of visitors, Claire looked rested and relaxed, casually lounging under a deep burgundy umbrella, her bare legs stretched out before her, wearing a black bikini. On the table to her left, Phil saw her iPhone, a plate with part of a sandwich, and a tall glass with amber liquid. The lemon upon the rim and the small bowl of various colored sweetener packets indicated the glass contained iced tea. Her sunglasses were on top of her head as she read from the iPad.
He leaned back, snapped a photo and began his email to Mr. Rawlings.
Claire adjusted her eyes to her iPad. As long as she kept it out of the sunshine and her sunglasses off, she could read the screen. Sighing, she reread Meredith’s blog for the third time. The content wouldn’t change. She wasn’t seeking new information—only assessing. The procedure felt strangely familiar, evaluating each new situation for possible fallout. She’d lived two years of her life that way, taking in everything around her, and gauging if, no not if—how Tony would react. Claire no longer feared physical retaliation; yet part of her felt the need to placate Meredith’s blog, hoping to mellow his response. Claire reread:
Freedom of Speech:
While Freedom of Speech is protected by the First Amendment of the United States Constitution, it is not apparently immune to money and influence. I wrote a retraction scheduled to appear today in Rolling Stone and People Magazine. It was a retraction to an article I wrote over three years ago. (Hyperlink to 2010 article)
As an independent correspondent, I have experienced the highs and lows of our ever changing world of media. In the past, I’ve proposed ideas which have been accepted or rejected in principal. Never, until now, have I had a publication refuse to print my finished product, after first accepting the concept.
(Hyperlink to Rolling Stone article) and (Hyperlink to People Magazine article); for the record, my retraction was to include additional information which these esteemed publications have since refused to print. A third nationally recognized magazine refused to print any of my retraction.
In an effort to inform the public, as is your right to know, my blog will serve as the sounding board designed to reach the masses. Here, as is my right, I will write what no magazine was willing to print:
Ms. Claire (Rawlings) Nichols has agreed to sit down with me and openly discuss her relationship, marriage, and divorce with Anthony Rawlings. Mr. Rawlings is one of this country’s leading entrepreneurs and listed as one of the top ten wealthiest people in the United States. His influence in the world of business is without bounds. That same influence has been working overtime to stop Ms. Nichols’ right to free speech.
As of yet, I do not know any details of their relationship. It is, however, my opinion that since Mr. Rawlings’ legal team is working diligently to contain her voice; the final product will be worth writing… and reading!
Continue to follow this blog to learn more about the TRUTH only Ms. Nichols can share!
Looking to her phone on the table beside of her, Claire wondered if she should call Tony. After all, she didn’t want Tony’s fine legal staff presenting Meredith with a restraining order. Claire tried earlier to reach her old friend, but she was busy in another interview.
Claire closed her eyes and debated the effectiveness of her case, she would tell Tony: I was upset after you left last night. You should know that. I fell asleep before I could call Meredith. The blog was already up and viral by the time I woke up.
There were over 300,000 hits. Her planned words were all true. Claire just wasn’t sure if she could talk to Tony, after what happened last night with Harry.
Thinking about last night, and this morning, caused a smile to sneak onto her face, momentarily forgetting the blog. She lowered her sunglasses over her eyes, placed the iPad face down on the small table, and relaxed against the soft lounge chair.
Absorbing the sunshine, she recalled her night and morning.
When she and Harry finally talked about what they’d done, Claire was reassured by their like mindedness. Neither wanted to jeopard
ize their friendship, and both thought they were comfortable with the additional benefits. After all, they’re both consenting adults.
Harry previously accused Claire of being distant regarding her past. If that were true, he was in another state. Until this morning, he’d kept his personal past hidden. Even Amber hadn’t mentioned anything.
After their morning’s use of Harry’s last condom, he wheeled the cart with coffee into the bedroom. Sitting on the bed, sipping coffee, and wrapped only in a sheet, with Harry once again dressed, felt absolutely licentious. Despite all they’d done, the decadence was stimulating. She remembered peering at him over the rim of her coffee mug, secretly wishing he had more silver packets, and knowing their daily coffee chats would never be the same. She listened as Harry offered a small glimpse into his history:
He’d only had two serious relationships. He acknowledged other sexual encounters, but there were only two he considered girlfriends. One started in college and lasted three years. Claire listened, thinking that was longer than her time with Tony. The most recent lasted about a year and a half and that had ended a few months before Claire arrived in Palo Alto.
At first, it surprised Claire she didn’t know any of this. Then she realized how little she knew about Harry’s past. He’d been very forthcoming regarding his work at SiJo and previous police work, but that was all in relation to his investigating skills with Tony.
This morning, he told her about regular medical care and his belief that he was healthy and free of all communicable diseases. He even offered to have a routine check if it would ease Claire’s mind. He winked and his blue eyes twinkled when he mentioned with a clean bill of health and her on the pill, they could avoid the bothersome condoms. While Claire appreciated his candor, she wondered if this was what dating had become, the exchange of medical records. It wasn’t like she ever had a chance to consider that with Tony, and she had seen a doctor in prison, without a doubt, her medical record was clear. The pill—that was something worth considering.
As he volunteered a larger glimpse of his personal history, Claire wondered why she’d felt the pressing need to share her past despite knowing so little of his. She reasoned it was due to his help researching Tony’s past. After all, Harry hadn’t asked Claire to investigate his ex-girlfriend.
It was the name of Harry’s most recent girlfriend which caused Claire to twinge. She wasn’t sure what it meant. Could it be jealousy? She didn’t think so. However, not only had she met his ex, she’d talked with her. Now the more recent coolness she’d noticed from Amber’s personal assistant made sense: only months before, Harry and Liz had cohabitated.
“Do you find it weird working with her every day?” Claire asked.
“No. It’s over. We both know it. Besides she’s great at what she does.”
Wow, that was an open ended statement, Claire thought.
“And Amber doesn’t want to lose her, just because we had a thing.”
“That’s incredibly mature. Does she feel the same?”
“Well, I think so.” He shrugged. “We haven’t talked about it.” Looking closely over the rim of his mug with a look of disgust, he added, “Not everyone hires private detectives to follow their ex’s every move.”
That reminded Claire of Phil’s secret message from the night before. With everything else, she’d actually forgotten. Harry’s eyes widened with curiosity when she told him about the wine delivery and the note.
Taking her empty cup, Harry kissed her nose and said, “My, your list of admirers continues to grow. How did I end up being the one to stay the night?”
The idea of Tony or Phil staying made Claire uncomfortable. Mostly because she’d fantasized about one and hardly knew the other, but Harry’s tone made the blood rush again to her cheeks. She couldn’t believe she was blushing like a school girl. “Lucky, I guess, Mr. Baldwin.”
“I would have to agree.” His smile warmed her.
They also talked about her last night in San Diego. Despite Mr. Rawlings’ request—more of a mandate Claire thought—to stop her discussions with Meredith, she had a scheduled meeting and planned to keep it. She planned to do what she’d told Tony: go on with the interviews but halt production. Recounting the sickening feeling of fear for Harry, Amber, John, and Emily, she believed this might just be the ticket to keep them safe. However, she did worry about Meredith’s reaction. Undoubtedly, she would want her article or articles published, preferably sooner than later.
Harry asked, “So, would you mind company for the rest of your stay? I’ll make myself scarce while you and Meredith are working.” Claire smiled and remained silent. She liked his requests. They were so much nicer than decrees. Harry continued, “I think with all of your visitors, I should stay… for your safety, of course.”
“Didn’t you say Tony’s plane went back to Iowa?”
“Yes.” He hesitated and then asked, “Does that mean your answer’s no?”
“It means you need a better reason.” Her eyes twinkled.
“How about, I want to?”
“That works for me, but, maybe you could…” She raised her eyebrows.
This time his cheeks reddened. “Yes, I was thinking a stop at the drug store was in order.” Claire didn’t respond verbally. She just nodded.
The vibration of her iPhone, against the glass surface of the small table, pulled Claire from her memories. She read the screen: “TONY CELL.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Turn your face to the sun and the shadows fall behind you.
—Charlotte Whitton
Claire read the words “TONY CELL” from her iPhone. She wanted to be the one to call him, but her memories faded into dreams as she lay on the sunlit lounge chair. Mindlessly, she realized her plate was gone and her tea was full. The vibration and ringing confirmed her earlier concern; Tony or Shelly must’ve seen Meredith’s blog. Claire knew she needed to meet his confrontation head-on. If she didn’t, she risked him flying back to San Diego, and seeing as how her sleeping situation had recently changed, that wouldn’t be good. After the fifth ring, she squared her shoulders and swiped the screen.
“Hello, Tony.”
“Claire.”
She couldn’t determine his mood by his one word response. “To what do I owe this honor? First, a visit—now a call.” Claire tried in vain to sound nonchalant.
“It seems that your friend blogged about your impending disclosure.”
“Yes, I read that.”
“We discussed this yesterday. I was under the impression we’d reached an agreement.”
Claire reached up and touched the pearl dangling daintily from her neck. “As I recall, our agreement states the articles won’t be printed, unless something happens to me or someone associated with me.” She attempted to maintain her businesslike tone. “I said I would go on with the interviews.”
Sarcastically he asked, “Tell me Claire, do you expect bodyguards for everyone? I’ll need a list of names.”
She shook her head, “I expect distance and respect.”
“And I expect my directives to be followed.” Claire recognized the change in Tony’s tone. It was harder with increased volume. “Her blog no longer exists.”
“That’s unreasonable,” she replied. “She didn’t know anything about your directive. I hadn’t had the chance to speak with her.”
“That’s your undoing, not mine.”
“Actually, I beg to differ. I was upset by your visit last night—more accurately by your gift. Instead of calling, I fell asleep. By the time I woke, she wasn’t available, and the blog was viral.” As Claire spoke, she powered-up her iPad and searched for Meredith’s blog. The web address she’d used earlier was met with the Error Response: “Server not found.”
“Shit, Tony, what have you done?”
“I believe I presented you with a sign of commitment, and now, I have presented you with a warning. Following my rules isn’t optional. I expect you to remember that, if you want your requests
to be considered.”
Claire’s blood boiled. She remembered his rules and his redundant lectures regarding those rules; however, as much as she wanted to argue and fight, she wanted her loved ones safe, and John’s law license reinstated. With great effort, Claire’s voice strained with projected compliance, “I will speak with Meredith this evening. Nothing more will appear in print or online as long as people stay safe and John gets his license.”
“Your second request will take some time.”
“Tony, it wasn’t a request.”
“Your bravado is appreciated, but I won’t be swindled. I don’t make mistakes or unsubstantiated threats. It would do you well to keep that in mind.”
“From business metaphors to chess, the thing is, for a swindle to have occurred I would need to be losing. On the contrary, I’m in California, and you’re in Iowa. I would say I have the initiative.”
“Well, I see your weakness, your hole, and I’m confident that you’ll blunder. The queen will be mine.”
“Yes, I know the term. Now, didn’t you tell me last night that I continually exceed your expectations?” She didn’t wait for a response. “I think you’ve forgotten, to win at the game of chess it isn’t the queen you seek, but the king.”
“You may consider Meredith’s blog to be a gambit, but I doubt she shares your point of view. I look forward to the end game.”
Claire sighed. “I will talk with her tonight.”
“By the way, I like the black bathing suit, but I’d prefer it here at the estate where it wouldn’t be seen by as many people.”
Her head darted from side to side. Behind the trunk of a palm tree, under the shade of an umbrella, she saw Phillip. “Goodbye, Tony.” Before he could comment, she disconnected the line, stood, and made her way toward Phil’s umbrella; they needed to talk.
The Consequences Series Box Set Page 83
