Three hours! He’d been waiting in her suite for three fuck’n hours!

Catherine told him that Claire had gone to her lake for the day. Tony glanced toward the windows, as darkness fell over the land and enveloped her suite. He told himself, the damn day is done!

During the entire three hours that he’d been there, Tony hadn’t moved or turned on a light. Truly, he thought it was interesting how well his eyes adjusted. Never before could he remember experiencing each moment of diminishing illumination. As the darkness prevailed, the crimson hue grew.

He worked to contain the fury in his chest and soul. It had been years since he’d experienced this depth of rage. Honestly, he hadn’t moved because he feared if he did, he’d break something or some things. That’s what used to happen when he was younger. He would break an object or punch a wall. There was one time at Blaire Academy when he punched another kid. The kid deserved it. He had said something about Tony’s grandmother. The damn teachers broke it up and no one was seriously hurt; nevertheless, his grandfather didn’t care about the why. He warned Anton to never let it happen again, and he hadn’t. It was surprisingly easy—remain detached. That was how he could buy companies and fire a roomful of people. They weren’t people: they were marks on a ledger.

Initially, this technique worked with Claire, but with each day she’d become more than that. Now, in the quiet suite, with time standing still, his thoughts ran together: He’d allowed her to become more than that—more than just a Nichols! He’d trusted her—hell, he sent her to the spa, allowed her to shop, and even allowed her to remain in Chicago without him. For what? So that she could spit in his face? So that she could publicly discuss their relationship? What else had she told Meredith Banks? Maybe she had the whole thing planned. Of course, it was her plan to get away from him.

That was probably it … she arranged it from the spa—hell, he never thought about her using a phone from the spa, or maybe she used a pay phone? He’d supplied her with enough cash. What if she bought one of those disposable phones? The release said Claire and Meredith were sorority sisters. Claire probably contacted her for this purpose!

There were so many possibilities of how she’d betrayed him. It was true—he didn’t know the exact mode, but he knew the final result. The papers were lying on her table—the black and white evidence of her deceit! She’d never meant a word of what she said that day in the dining room. The whole damn speech about trust was a sham, and he was a goddamn fool for falling for it.

Tony’s train of thought came to a screeching halt as the sound of the opening door filled the otherwise silent suite. While the moonlight pooled in rectangles on the soft carpet, Tony stepped into the dark shadows and neared the woman who’d consumed his thoughts for the last eight hours—no, for years!

Before she could turn on the light, he stepped behind her. With the redness nearly beyond penetration, her presence and her scent fueled the fury and pain within him. He wrapped his arm around her throat while pulling her ponytail with his other hand. Nearing his lips to her ear, he attempted speech through gritted teeth. “Where the fuck have you been?”

Tony heard the desperation in his voice as it filled the dark room. That desperation poured more crimson onto the fire of his rage. No damn woman, especially a Nichols, would have this much control over him!

She didn’t speak!

He spun her around—he wanted to see her face, see her lying eyes. Gripping her shoulders, he questioned her again. “I asked you a question. Where the fuck have you been?”

“Tony,” she gasped. “I didn’t think you were coming home until tomorrow.”

His patience expired hours ago. He wanted answers and he wanted them now. He slapped her cheek. Damn her, why wasn’t she apologizing for her disloyalty? Why wasn’t she answering his fuck’n question? “I have asked you a question twice. I will not ask again.”

His palm stung as it once again connected with her cheek and temple. The red behind his eyes obscured the growing physical evidence of his more forceful contact. Truly, he didn’t even see the tears as they began to fall from her pleading eyes.

“Tony, please stop. I was hiking in the woods.”

Letting go of her shoulders, he shoved her onto the sofa and followed. Leaning over her petite body, his words sounded too desperate for his own ears. “Do you expect me to believe you were in the woods until this time of night?”

“I was in the woods”—lies— “The sun was setting”—bullshit –“It was so beautiful.”

He couldn’t take it anymore! He wanted the truth! “Shut the fuck up! You were out there because you knew I was coming home, and you didn’t want to face me after what you did!”

“I don’t know what you mean. You told me you were coming home on Saturday—this is still Friday. I haven’t done anything.”

She was lying. He struck out again. Claire reached for her cheek as she tried to hide her face. He pulled her chin toward him; she wasn’t looking away! His breath bathed her tear-drenched face. “Liar!”

He searched her eyes. Why weren’t they contrite or smug? She’d successfully humiliated him, broken his rules—why wasn’t she assuming credit for her deceit?

Tony stepped away. He couldn’t look at her expression another minute. Inhaling deeply, he pushed the sound of her sobs from his ears and stepped toward the light switch. While the light filled the suite, Tony concentrated on inhaling and exhaling as he walked toward the table. Maybe if she read the release she’d accept responsibility.

The sound of her whimpering on the sofa tempered the red, causing it to wane, but when the tips of his fingers touched the pages of the news release, the crimson violently resurged through his veins. He didn’t want the red to be so intense—if he didn’t keep it down, he knew it had the ability to control him. Tony didn’t want to give in to it, but he sure as hell wasn’t giving that control to Claire. His neck stiffened. He refused to proceed lightly; it was his choice. Claire’s damn emotions weren’t going to deter his quest for truth. Stepping toward her, he held out the pages and steadied his voice. “Then tell me—tell me how this is a misunderstanding.” The pages in his hand shook. Despite his best effort, his words came out too close together. “I jumped to conclusions last time. Tell me how I’m doing that now.”

Tony wondered why he was giving her the chance to talk her way out. Maybe he wanted to push that bravado. Would she try to talk her way out of this? Most people would know better—they would accept the consequences and leave him alone. Should he even allow it?

Claire’s voice interrupted his internal debate. “Tony, I’m sorry. I really don’t know what you are talking about.”

He threw the pages toward her and watched as they scattered on the floor near her feet. He didn’t move; instead he stared and watched as Claire moved to the floor. Tony knew every word—hell, he’d read it fifty times. He watched as she fumbled with the pages, and her breathing became ragged.

“Tony, oh my God, I did not agree to an interview.”

He was once again beside her. What kind of pull did she have on him? He pointed to the picture. “So you’re telling me that the picture of you talking to this woman is a print shop fabrication and this is a colossal misunderstanding?”

“It is me, but—”

He seized her shoulders, lifted her from the floor, and pinned her against a wall. The falling picture and fear in her eyes didn’t register.

Her voice begged for understanding. “I wasn’t giving an interview.”

She was lying to him! He slapped her again! If he had to, he’d force the truth out of her. He leaned down until their noses almost touched. Would she have the audacity to look him in the eye and continue lying? “Then what in the hell were you doing?” He shook her again. “Claire, I trusted you! You told me I could trust you, and I believed you. I sent you to a spa day. This is how you thank me? This is how you repay me? By breaking all my rules? By public failure?”

Abruptly, he released her shoulders. He wasn’t going there. He refused to reveal how betrayed he felt. That would give her too much power. She didn’t have the power, he did. And he would prove it!

When he turned around, Claire was scurrying to pick up the papers. The sight of her face finally registered: it was red and blotchy, yet her voice fought for steadiness. “What is this?”

Fine—he could be steady too. “It’s an exclusive Internet release of an upcoming story. It’ll run simultaneously in People and Rolling Stone.”

In an effort to control the emotions he didn’t want to feel, he stepped away, went to the bookshelf, picked up a book, and threw it into the fireplace. The release served as a small vent. After a deep inhale, he answered, “Shelly, my publicist, found it today and immediately forwarded me a copy. I flew home as soon as I could.”

While she read, Tony walked to the sofa, sat, and watched. The pages in her hand trembled as tears fell onto the printed words. What the hell did she think—that he wouldn’t find out? That he wouldn’t know she’d betrayed his trust?

“Tony, I did go to school with Meredith. She did come up to me the other day and start talking. I didn’t know she was a reporter. I wasn’t giving an interview. I didn’t say anything about you.” She cried, “Your name was never mentioned!”

Tony didn’t speak; instead, he nodded toward the pages. Claire continued reading. When it appeared as though she were finally done, she didn’t move. She didn’t look up, or speak—or anything. Tony waited. The only sound in the suite was that of their breathing. Tony’s was getting louder while Claire’s became shallower. Eventually, she laid the pages on the carpet and kept her eyes downcast.