Aleatha Romig - Behind His Eyes

Failure is no more a permanent condition than success! For even if you succeed, there’s still another test.

—Gene Bedley

As Eric approached the house, Tony took in the dark windows and glanced at the corner of his iPhone—after 10:00 PM. Since Claire’s windows faced toward the backyard and woods, he couldn’t see them or her balcony. He could imagine them and her suite … and her in her suite, with no other purpose than to wait for him. It was a thought that seemed to be recurring more and more often, slipping unexpectedly into his consciousness. Why not? She was in his house solely for his pleasure and enjoyment, and after the day and evening he’d just had, he deserved some him time.

After three months, he admitted—at least to himself—that this arrangement was working better than he ever predicted. Each test he presented, or that presented itself, solidified his control and power over Claire’s life. He controlled everything about her—almost. Tony had allowed Catherine to share in his power, to a point. He set boundaries and Catherine adhered to them. She couldn’t overturn any of his decisions. Tony didn’t want Claire to think she could pit one of them against the other. Besides, Catherine’s reign dealt with mundane day-to-day issues—clothing and schedules. Tony controlled the more important matters, and of course, if he decided to trump Catherine’s plans for a day, he did.

That would happen on days that Tony decided to work from home. He’d made it clear that when he was home, Claire was to be available to him at all times. On those days, he’d not only trump Catherine’s plans, but Claire’s too.

From the first time he’d allowed Claire access to the grounds of the estate, Tony saw how much she enjoyed that little liberty. Without saying it, she savored those outings as her own personal escape. The fact that she willingly and of her own accord returned to the house at her appointed time, appeased his sense of control, enticing him to allow that privilege to continue.

Each morning Claire followed a routine that included swimming and weights. Tony enjoyed the benefits of her workout and had no desire to stop that activity; however, by 10:00 AM on the days that he worked from home, her plans no longer mattered. She was expected to be in his office. Sometimes he’d acknowledge her presence; other times he’d be preoccupied. It didn’t matter. On those days, her time, her schedule, and her body were at his disposal. He found it as intoxicating to make her sit and waste her day as it was to use her services. One of the best aphrodisiacs he knew was looking up from his computer or watching during a telephone call as Claire looked longingly out the window. Hell—he’d even find himself imagining that scene while in his corporate office.

As he walked through the dimly lit hallway toward his office, his anticipation grew. The day had been long. There was no better word. It wasn’t bad or upsetting; it wasn’t good or rewarding—it was long. Not only were there multiple big deals and negotiations in the works, Tony had to spend the evening at a dinner meeting that turned into a few drinks and more negotiations. Public outings weren’t his thing.

Fundraisers and social functions that could double as tests were increasingly more fun. Being a multi-tasker extraordinaire, Tony could shake hands, carry on a conversation, and monitor Claire’s every move. That said, his preferred evening destination was more intimate, and lately had become even more inviting. At the end of a long day, he wanted to be behind the iron gates of his estate.

Inside the top side drawer of his desk, Tony found Claire’s driver’s license. For a long time it had been stashed away with other items from her apartment, but just like her grandmother’s necklace, it was time to present Claire with a new gift. A grin came to his lips as he considered the small card; it would have a companion, or should he say, a tool for a test. The companion card arrived to his office earlier in the week. It was an American Express platinum card with Claire’s name embossed upon the front. He planned to tell her that it was her reward for her recent public behavior—that wouldn’t be a total fabrication. The way she handled the reporter recently was stellar; she’d been presented with an opportunity to reveal her true status and chose instead to abide by his rules. Nonetheless, providing her limited access to a credit card and her driver’s license had other benefits. Over the last two months, she’d been seen with him on multiple occasions; he needed a cover story. If she ever attempted to reveal the truth, he needed something to make her accusations seem implausible. What better cover than his money? He’d taken away her debt—he could prove that. With her new credit card, she wouldn’t only be seen as his companion, but as a woman spending his money. No one would believe that she wasn’t enjoying his fortune of her own free will.

When he first brought Claire to Iowa, he wasn’t sure how involved the plan would become. Each day presented additional choices and decisions. Thus far, in his opinion, Tony had developed the perfect plan—one that continued to weave fresh possibilities. As each new thread was revealed and sewn into place, Tony’s omnipotence grew. There wasn’t an angle he hadn’t considered.

He placed her driver’s license and the credit card into a small, feminine leather wallet, flung his jacket on the desk chair, and headed toward Claire’s suite. The summer heat was sweltering, and the loss of one layer of clothing felt liberating as he briskly walked up the backstairs. Mindlessly, he imagined that in a very short time he’d be losing more layers. It was a scenario that had been playing in his head over and over throughout the god-awful dinner meeting. Grinning, he wondered if that was what had kept him from going off and telling his dinner guests what he really thought of their ideas.

Often, when he first got home, Tony would go to his suite or office and relax before joining Claire. On those days, he turned on the feed to her suite and watched as she prepared for his arrival. Tonight, it was too late for him to check the video feed, and honestly, he was too anxious to use her and forget his long day. It didn’t matter. Her behavior had become reassuringly predictable.

In stunned disbelief, Tony opened Claire’s door to an empty suite. He walked to the closet/dressing room and then to the bathroom. With each unoccupied space, his sense of gratitude for her recent obedience swiftly morphed into a combination of alert and anger. Where the hell was she? Why wasn’t she where she was supposed to be?

Throwing the wallet—the reward he’d meant to present to her—onto her table, he stormed out of her suite. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he called out for Catherine. She’d better damn well know Claire’s whereabouts. As he turned the corner, the glow of the pool’s colored lights illuminated the windows at the back of the sunporch. The movement of the water caught his attention. He’d found Claire.

He stood unseen within the darkened room and watched her every move. It was like his hidden cameras, but somehow more intimate. Claire moved slowly, floating on her back and staring up to the sky. It wasn’t that he gave his acquisition much thought; however, there were times that it amazed him that Claire could find pleasure in the most mundane of activities.

As he watched, his thoughts of anger and betrayal returned. She was outside enjoying a swim, when she was supposed to be available to him! She had the whole damn day to do whatever she wanted. Disappointment and fury overcame him. Perhaps he was wrong to present her with a new freedom. After all, he’d thought they were past reinforcing the most basic of his rules.

Cloaked in the shadow of the night, he stepped from the house and approached the pool. Within seconds his linen shirt dampened and clung to his back. Each step away from the air conditioning reminded him of the oppressive summer heat. Even in the darkness, he felt the heat of the day’s intense sun roll off the concrete deck. His voice boomed over the hum of the pool’s filter and the distant call of country crickets. “Claire, what in the hell are you doing?”

She didn’t move as she blissfully floated, staring upward. Momentarily, Tony followed her gaze. It was a sky and there were stars. He saw no reason for her to give it her full attention. “Claire, get out of the damn water!”

Each insubordination added fuel to his nearly combustible disposition. Walking out of the shadows to the edge of the pool, he saw how the brightly illuminated water ebbed and flowed over Claire’s flat stomach and her bathing-suit-clad breasts moved with her steady breathing. Her hair floated in a halo around her face, and the streaks of blonde that infiltrated her chestnut hair reflected the fountain’s colorful display. She wasn’t watching the stars: her eyes were closed. His volume decreased, but his tone remained determined. “Claire, you know better. You know my rules. You’re supposed to be in your suite.”

It was then her eyes sprang wide and she righted herself, beginning to tread water and twist her head from side to side. “Tony, you startled me. Catherine said you wouldn’t be home until late.”

He stared at her for a moment, waiting—he wasn’t sure for what, perhaps an apology, perhaps an explanation. She continued to tread water as she looked up at him with her damn green eyes. It wasn’t his plan for the evening, but as the perspiration dripped from his shoulder blades to the middle of his back, Tony knew what he wanted.